Story Ideas

[6]: Lethal Machine

The title of this might only be temporary but I'm not sure. This I just thought of yesterday though so I don't have a well thought at story yet (same applies for most of my other works). I have a little bit I wrote though so enjoy!

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When Atlas gets involved in a fatal accident, he is forced to undergo a surgery that would permanently change his body into an inhuman shell in order to survive. No longer living as a human, how will Atlas survive in a society that shuns the existence of a human machines?

February 27, 7:31 a.m.

It was a cold, foggy morning today. The sun had just barely risen over the horizon, fighting a hopeless battle with the clouds that floated in front of it, blocking the little sunlight it would've provided. The birds were already up for the day, chirping away at nothing in particular as they perched their talons upon the thin willow branches that grew near the riverbed.

Nature's vitality continued to grow as daylight approached, but the rest of the world did not. Despite all the bustling that was going on outside, the city was dark. Streetlights had only turned off a while ago to greet the approaching sun, but that was the only thing it greeted. Everyone else remained in their homes, afraid to face the outside world.

Atlas was unsure what to think of it. Did he act like the rest of them before he underwent his surgery? Was he just as afraid of this beautiful land that stood before him?

Ever since he opened his eyes for the first time after his operation, Atlas had only been briefed on a few things about his identity, but besides from that, he couldn't recall anything from the accident or his previous life. All he remembered was being told to "find the moon" when he woke up.

Being the only thing he recalled from before his accident, Atlas had stared at the moon plenty of times once he was allowed to go outside, but to no avail. He couldn't remember a single thing.

It was disappointing for sure, but he couldn't be bothered with things that wouldn't change anything in the end. It was a futile struggle.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .