Post Apocalyptic Science Fiction Novels & Stories

Christopher Hudson, eldest son and CEO of The Hudson Group, has his eye on four hundred and seventy acres of land in Bethel, Vermont. He wants to purchase the land and build a luxury resort. It is his vision that the resort will be the corner stone of The Hudson Group for years to come. The problem is the land will cost him more than he wants to pay. Selena Fitz and her friends are The Fantasy Fiction Writing Club. After a typical day at work, she relaxes with her club buddies with a glass of wine and her laptop at the ready. That’s when she discovers that she switched the club’s flash drive with the flash drive she gave her boss. The stories on the flash drive detailed all the dirty things the club members wanted to do to Christopher Hudson and his brothers. Desperate to get the drive back, the club members break into the Hudson Mansion. Instead of retrieving the flash drive, Selena is presented with an opportunity of a lifetime all because she owns a piece of land that her family has handed down from generation to generation.

"Long ago...the werewolves went extinct and were slowly forgotten by the rest of the world - and never heard of, except in fiction stories. Until a group of selfish scientists rose together and decides to artificially create their own army of these creatures." ༺༺♡♡༻༻ Amara’s world crumbled when she witnessed werewolves kill her parents. Her vengeful uncle raises her, teaching her just one thing: How to hate and destroy the werewolves. When she gets older, she was suctioned off to infiltrate a werewolf pack, she’s horrified to discover that the alpha, Kyle, is her mate. Torn between her mission and the bond, she plots their downfall. As she uncovers shocking truths about her uncle and her past, Amara’s loyalty wavers. When the pack faces a deadly attack orchestrated by her uncle, Amara must decide where her true allegiance lies. With her newfound family and love on the line, can she save the pack, or will her uncle's sinister plan succeed?

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

I gave Evan Cole six years. I changed my name, walked away from the Moretti family, and became the kind of woman he could handle: quiet, useful, easy to overlook. I paid the bills, fixed his proposals, opened doors he thought had opened by luck, and waited every time he said we were almost ready. Then Maracame back. His first love. The woman he swore he hated until the second she needed him again. After that, I became the problem. Too jealous. Too dramatic. Too hard to please. Evan thought I would break down and beg for my place. While he played house with Mara, I saved every receipt, every post, every lie. Then I cut off the money behind his perfect little life and called my family. On Christmas Eve, he asked if I would wait. I smiled and let him believe Leah was still waiting. By the time he learned my real name, Alessia Moretti was already gone, and the mafia princess he never knew had finally chosen herself.

When Eric Sutton—my charming CEO husband—found out I handed a million-dollar project to his assistant Vivien Cheney, he figured his three months of radio silence had finally broken me. Suddenly, he's all, "Let's go to Iceland for our honeymoon!" Vivien heard and threw a fit. Threatened to quit. Classic. Eric, who treated her like royalty, freaked out. After three days of begging, he bailed on the trip—said it was for "work"—then handed her my ticket. Later, he shrugged it off. "Romance's petty. Work comes first. You're my wife. You get it, right?" Right. I just stared at Vivien's new post: a couples selfie—cheek to cheek, hands shaped like a heart. I didn't say a word. Just nodded. Eric thought I was finally playing the role: calm, supportive, mature. Promised an even better honeymoon when he got back. Too bad I'd already quit. Too bad he'd already signed the divorce papers. We were done.

I happen to come across a popular post regarding a company's finance department on social media. "Seriously, that person in the sales department is such an idiot! All I wanted was to claim reimbursement under her name for the bag I bought, and yet she still refused! "Since she doesn't want me to reimburse my bag, then she can forget about reimbursing everything! This time, I'll teach her a lesson about what happens when she offends a member of the finance department!" There are many bashing comments in the comment section, but the original poster doesn't care at all. She continues adopting a haughty tone. "What am I scared of? The finance department is extremely vital to the company! I refuse to believe that the boss has the courage to offend me, the most important person alive, just to stand up for a sales employee who's easily replaceable!" As I stare at the familiar profile picture belonging to the original poster, I can't help but mentally sneer. She wants to suspend all of my reimbursements, huh? Go ahead, then! This time, I'd like to see what the consequences are for offending a member of the finance department!

In the third year of my marriage, I endure a full day of painful labor to give birth to my first child. However, my husband steals the baby to give to his true love. I try my damnedest to stop him, but all I get is a barrage of insults. "It's just a baby! I'm the one who planted the seed, so I get to decide who gets the fruit!" I'm overwhelmed by grief as I watch my husband leave. However, he shares a happy post on his social media. "Mother and daughter are safe." His true love comments, "Thank you for giving me a child, Jaspie. I'll be the happiest woman in the world with you two by my side." Clueless friends bless them and wish them well. I silently comment, "Give me back my child." All I get is another round of insults. Then, I'm blocked. I don't want to endure this anymore. I hire a lawyer to draft divorce papers before making a police report. "Officer, I want to report my husband for child trafficking."

“Your body is made to carry my pup! Do that without objection and leave after giving birth to him,” Travis husked, his voice causing vibrations on earth. Rhea Duncan stared at him unblinkingly and scoffed, “I didn’t want to stay here anymore either. I’m still enduring your annoying nature because I have no choice.” • Rhea Duncan was inseminated by her best friend, Phoebe Barton, so that she could snatch her boyfriend from her. Her scheme was successful, but what Phoebe didn’t know was that she had just made her best friend a surrogate mother to the most eligible and enigmatic man in the country, and the alpha of his pack. What happens when a random human invades Alpha Travis’s world unexpectedly? What happens when Rhea Duncan realizes that the world she assumed was fiction is actually real, and she has just become a surrogate mother for the leader of that world? Will they accept that it is fate or just an accident?

The Last Call of Order is a teen fiction novel. The story took place at Urbama or as others call it- the city of crimes, where numerous crimes happen within the day but invisible to the public. A young boy, Xyler Darkenlor who mysteriously killed his mother was abducted. For an unknown reason, he was chosen to enter an institute where he was trained at a young age to be an Arial, the highest position in the killing chamber. To be accepted, he was let to pick a code name Niko which then he uses to forget his name. Niko receives order from his superiors in the chamber. They are being paid high for every completion of one mission. In one mission, he met Reca a highschool student who was shifting as a counter lady in one restaurant. He was intimiced by her beauty and ended up having relationship with her hiding his real identity. In a short period of time, Niko learned that Reca was actually the daughter of an ambassador that is currently involved in the order given by his superior, Kana. He was ordered the next day to kill her.

On the very day I sold my company shares to raise money for my wife’s medical treatment, my phone flashed with a notification about a trending post. "My husband or my lover, which should I choose?" An anonymous reply shot to the top of the comments. "Why choose? I want both." What followed was a casual, shameless confession. A staged car accident right after the wedding, a fake overseas treatment plan, parents who helped maintain the lie, and millions siphoned off under the excuse of life-saving medical fees. The money was never for treatment. It funded luxury vacations, hotel suites, and a long-term affair. Someone asked if she was afraid her husband would find out. Her answer was chilling. "Why would I be afraid? He thinks he took my first time and swore to take responsibility for me forever. He doesn’t know it was just a repair surgery I did for his sake." The post ended with a vacation photo. A woman in a bikini, smiling under the sun. And on her waist, a tattoo with the letters 'NG.' The same tattoo worn by my wife.