Dystopia Ideas Novels & Stories

"If you take out the hub, the hospitals, the shelters... people will die." Dante looked at the hub, and for a second, he saw the skyline of the city as a cage. It was the same cage her father had built. It was the cage the Trust used to keep people compliant. "If she breathes in the dark, then the rest of the world doesn't deserve the light," Dante said. He pulled the detonator from his pocket.

“Did people know?” “No.” “That’s bad.” “Yes.” Root asked: “Were they unhappy?” “No.” Everyone froze. The older Elena continued: “That was the worst part.” No rebellion. No screaming prisoners. No obvious dystopia. People lived happy lives. Because dangerous selves never emerged. Impulsive selves rarely emerged. Extreme risk-taking disappeared. Certain forms of art became rarer. Certain inventions never occurred. Certain relationships never formed. Not banned. Unselected. The woman whispered: “My world became kind.” Mara asked:

And then a plague hit the land and wiped the world of its beautiful palm trees, towering glass buildings, and self-driving machines that can take you to faraway places. The plagues, called the Death Waves, were said to have lasted for decades. The people’s medical system and high-powered machines could not beat their unseen enemy. When the plague finally went away on its own, the Old World became no more. More than half of the world died, and the remaining half killed for survival. In fear of another Death Wave, the people abandoned their societies and hid inside caves and under the ground. They protected themselves and trusted no one. At night, they would sneak unto their neighbors and stea

“You’re welcome, but for what?” “Everything.” That, along with the deeper kiss he pressed to her lips, was answer enough. ****** Author’s Notes I love futuristic, post-apocalyptic, and/or dystopian fiction. I wouldn’t want to live it, of course, but it’s fun to imagine how bad things could get, and how good people would function in the aftermath. In this book, I also explored a bit how harsh times make even good people do some questionable things. Can you forgive a good character if he (or she) does something morally ambiguous for the ones they love? I like complex characters and questions like that. I hope I gave a modicum of competency to exploring the idea.

A ·− N −· Y −·−− B −··· M −− Z −−·· C −·−· O −−− D −·· P ·−−· E · Q −−·− F ··−· R ·−· G −−· S ··· H ···· T − I ·· U ··− J ·−−− V ···− K −·− W ·−− L ·−·· X −··− Thank you all for reading my book hope you all are liking it. This book is the opposite of Utopia and if you know the definition of that…. then you will understand this world. Yet remember there will be holes in this story, and to fill those holes you must use your imagination to fill them in. Sometimes in writing less is more, a mystery even.

The weight of the radiation seemed to increase, making every breath a labored effort. Our conversation shifted from casual banter to whispered anxieties. We spoke of our hopes, however faint, for a better future, and of our fears—the fear of the dome collapsing, the fear of starvation, the fear of the creatures that lurked just beyond our reach. We spoke of the stories we’d read in the library, of a time before the radiation, a time of green fields and clear skies, a time when humanity wasn’t clinging to survival in the shadow of a shattered world. These stories, fragments of a lost past, were our only solace in the vast, desolate wasteland. They provided a spark of hope that kept us going.

Femur formed the fencing in front of the houses, rib bone curved over plants offering them fragile shade and shelter, the points of spears leaning up against the side of a house were tipped with carved points of bone, a door handle, a piece of jewellery… She blinked, and the bone disappeared from view. “Not real,” she whispered. “Not even in the dream. So what does that mean?” But she understood the message. This Utopia was built on the death of Havermouth’s population. Not just Havermouth’s population, she continued. All the world. This was the world if the Mer won the war. And, having been given this glimpse into it, was no longer sure if that was a bad thing.

I thought she's going to reject her because of her facial expression, but she kneel before me. “Take me as your alliance and let's create a Disparate Utopia where people can live up with peace and nature.”

Perfect. She didn’t have any clue why mother named me after his city. The queen was the second youngest princess of the City of Utopia. A very beautiful island of beautiful people. Nothing could compare to what the place has to offer. Stretches of fine white sands. Ranges of mountains. Smiling people. A place of freedom. Sighing, she find herself making her way to the kitchen. Hands on her stomach, she felt so elated she saw Darcy, Sweetie Darcy, who is busy doing something on the counter.

Then again, he’s not the one exiled and preoccupied with planning a revolution. Still, for a moment I envision a future world where Sinclair is the King of the united packs, and Damon’s regime is a long-forgotten nightmare. In my heart I know this is the kind of society my mate could create as leader; Gabriel’s utopian world could be our own, if only we could take back our home.