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THE LAST WAKING A Story of Rybs

The first thing Rybs noticed was not the silence. It was the smell. Not the antiseptic scrub of hospital corridors, not the rubber-wheeled squeaking of night nurses doing their rounds, not even the low electrical hum of machines measuring the precise distance between a man and his death. No. What filled his nostrils when his eyes opened was something older. Something the world had apparently decided to produce in his absence. Moss, maybe. Wet stone. The particular sweetness o

Exploring UK Sci-Fi Enthusiast Groups: A Journey into Online Sci-Fi Communities

So, you’ve found yourself tangled in the vast, swirling cosmos of sci-fi fandom, huh? Maybe you’re a die-hard fan of space operas, or perhaps you’re more into the eerie, mind-bending speculative fiction that makes you question reality itself. Whatever your flavour, if you’re in the UK and itching to connect with like-minded souls, you’re in for a treat. Let’s dive headfirst into the quirky, vibrant world of UK sci-fi enthusiast groups and explore how these communities are sha

Motrat Brontë, Ted Hughes dhe Sylvia Plath.

Dy herë në vit, unë ia kushtoj vetes një ose dy vizita te shkrimtarët, poetët dhe njerëzit e kulturës. Nuk është pelegrinazh. Nuk është as ndonjë ritual romantik për ta ndjerë veten më afër hijes së tyre. Është më shumë një detyrim i brendshëm, një borxh moral ndaj atyre që kanë krijuar botë të tëra me mendje, me vetmi, me vuajtje dhe me talent. Ndaj disa prej tyre kam një afërsi të kahershme, i njoh mirë, i kam lexuar gjatë. Disa të tjerë i kam takuar më vonë, por me të njëj

Rybs' Crosses Bridge!

Story I: The Violent Landing The ship didn't land, it convulsed onto the shores of north-west Britain, vomiting smoke and radiation onto the rocks near Aberdeen. Rybs stood in the wreckage of the cockpit, tasting copper and ozone. Through the viewport, the Shetland Islands lurked in the mist like broken teeth. He had forgotten, perhaps willfully, that somewhere near these shores lay the remains of what he once called his wife. "Override the kill-switch," he whispered to the

Rybs, The Holder Of Secrets

Aftermath! The ship came down like a dying star tearing through the perpetual fog that had swallowed the British Isles whole. Fire screamed against cloud and moisture until the sky itself seemed to recoil. Rybs had aimed for the northwest coast near Aberdeen ironically close to the Shetland Islands where fragments of his past life might still be buried beneath the poisoned earth. Perhaps even Sarahs remains. The thought clung to him like radiation sickness quiet persistent im

Q-Life

by Emanuel Bajra To those who still listen. I think it began on one of those half-lit mornings when the city couldn’t decide whether to rain or to hum. The light was silver but tired, the kind of colour that feels already used by someone else before it reaches you. Rands was awake, or rather halfway between waking and remembering what waking used to feel like. The walls were breathing again; they did that every few hours, a slow pulse that matched the city’s circulation syste