Weird Ships Novels & Stories

In fact they weren't even human. Ten years ago, a message was picked up via satellite claiming to be from another solar system. No one knew exactly what was going on but shortly after receiving the transmission, anomalies had been picked up, UFOs were what the news outlets called them. Then came the space ships. Camille remembered seeing them on the TV when she was just twelve. She had been both terrified and in awe as the first images of the colossal ships were broadcast around the world. There were five of the hulking structures in total, each like a hybrid of skyscrapers, satellites and a war ship. Lights blinked on their bellies like on planes while they sailed through the skies almost s

As they neared the end Mark caught sight of a boat in the water, unlike any he'd seen before. He could see it was a double-hulled Catamaran, but it wasn't a sailboat. It was like two speedboats welded together then given to Ferrari to turn into something fast and cool. A large cabin sat astride the two hulls with angled windows, topped by a small seating area upstairs, and the entire ship was coated in a kind of metallic charcoal colour. It looked fast, predatory and dangerous. "This is the Betsy," Captain Wales announced and Mark chuckled. "Something funny, lad?"

"We have a situation at the southern border outposts. Three hours ago, a fleet of dreadnoughts breached the southern mist-barrier of our territorial waters. They do not fly the banners of the southern rogue factions, nor do they carry the sigils of any known shifter pack on this continent." Aurelia stepped forward, her golden eyes narrowing. "Commander, describe their ships." "They're enormous, of petrified black mahogany, reinforced with crimson steel," Marcus reported, jaw clenched. "Their sails are pitch black, woven with blood-red crests depicting a serpent coiled around a eclipsed sun. They have dropped anchor in the Bay of Whispers, and their envoy is already marching up the King's Roa

—thousands of derelict ships, some made of iron, some of glass, all caught in a permanent, silent graveyard around the planet. "We aren't the first to escape," Mara said, her voice hollow as she stared at the monitors. "We're just the latest." The derelicts were a grim mirror of their own history. They saw ships that looked like the Sun-Forge’s spires, and ships that looked like the Great Engine’s older brothers. All of them were cold. All of them were empty. "The Siren didn't just let them go," Audrey realized, her eyes fixed on a massive, shattered vessel that bore a striking resemblance to the First King’s original bunker. "She hunted them. Look at the puncture marks. Those aren't from as

I felt the falling temperature as well and noticed that there must something terrible happened, so I said to her: "Well, Miss Isabella, if it's hard to say you could just ignore me will be alright." Isabella, who had been silent at first, suddenly interrupted me, then changed back to her sloppy appearance at the beginning and said: "Weirdness is the result of the unwillingness of people after death, the spiritual wisdom born after a hundred years of immortality, and the rumours spread by word of mouth. In the final analysis, weirdness is the existence of hatred and resentment, do you understand, little cutie."

The scene projected wasn't a memory; it was happening now. The black ships we had seen on the horizon had reached the shore. They weren't empty. They were packed with Shadows, not the ink-monsters from the woods, but people. Thousands of them. They were pale, translucent versions of everyone the Shop had ever 'audited' or deleted. The ships were docking at the base of the North-Point Lighthouse. "They aren't coming to fight," I realized, watching the wall. "They're coming to Checkout."

"Sila ay... tinatahi ang ating planeta. Ang mga linyang iyan ay mga Sub-atomic Filaments. Binabago nila ang molecular structure ng ating hangin para maging habitat ng mga Weavers. Pinapatay nila ang Earth para mabuhay sila!" ​ANG PAGLITAW NG WEB-SHIPS ​Mula sa mga bitak ng "sapot" sa langit, lumabas ang mga Web-Ships. Hindi sila mukhang barkong-pangdigma; ang kanilang anyo ay parang mga dambuhalang needle-shaped vessels na yari sa puting kristal. Sa bawat pagdaan nila, nag-iiwan sila ng mga hibla na dumidikit sa mga ulap.

We were sucked into a sea of oblivion and spat out on a busy strip lining a bay that shone beneath the blistering sun, glittering as though hoards of treasure had been buried in its depths. Crowds of unusually dressed people parted around us, sparing glances at Orion and I as they passed. I couldn’t have cared less about the pointed ears, fluttering wings, or scaled tails, not when faced with the network of sprawling businesses, alleyways, and taverns all curved around the bay itself. I stopped breathing all together when I spotted the numerous ships gently bobbing as they stood parked beside a labyrinth of docks. They were massive, larger than anything I’d seen on television.

"How many ships?" "Six iron-clads, sir," the scout replied, looking up with wide, anxious eyes. "But they aren't firing their batteries. They are moving slow, towing a massive, floating iron platform behind them. High Alpha Torin says it looks like a deep-sea siege crane." Natalia turned her gaze toward the open horizon. Through the thick, swirling sea-mist of the Midnight Sea, the familiar, low-profile silhouettes of the western warships began to break the gray winter light. They didn't sound their mechanical horns this time; they moved in a synchronized, eerie silence, their smoke-stacks belching thick black soot that cast a dark shadow across the frozen water.

Vanessa, still reloading her rifle, snapped her head up, already alert. “What is it?” The screen flickered, displaying satellite footage of something massive rising from the depths of the ocean floor. Impossible. The Return of the Nightmare Rook’s voice crackled through the cockpit comms, strained but urgent: “We’ve got multiple signatures... coming up fast!” Through the storm-filled horizon, dark shapes emerged, pushing through the churning waves. A fleet of unmanned warships, their steel hulls gleaming, automated and deadly. At the center of the advancing armada...