Alive: Slice of Life Vignettes

By Sherri Fulmer Moorer

What does it mean to be alive? It’s every experience we have, big and small. Sometimes, it’s big changes that alter the trajectory of life that bring us to life. More often, it’s the small things that happen in day to day living that shape us into a new creation.

Alive - Slice of Life Vignettes celebrates the moments that make us truly alive, whether it’s a major discovery, a triumph, a loss, or a mundane conversation that gives us a glimpse of a different reality. These sixteen stories show women facing emotional moments and shifting paradigms to find what it means to be truly alive. These scifi, mystery, general fiction, holiday, paranormal, and suspense stories embrace the ways life speaks to us and helps us to grow into experiencing life to the fullest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sherri Fulmer Moorer
• Release date: Nov 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005439279

Sherri Fulmer Moorer

What is reality? Do we experience it, or create it? Or, in a universe of expansion and chaos, is it a canvas where we experience all possibilities of existence?Welcome to a place where you can explore the fragile state of reality. Where every thought, word, decision, and action are steps to break or create the nature of what is real. Where all things work together in the multidimensional flow of reality to make all things are possible.

Book preview

Alive – Slice of Life Vignettes

By: Sherri Fulmer Moorer

Copyright 2020 by Sherri Fulmer Moorer

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Cover photo credit: chinaface

Stock Photo ID: 1053779830

Photo Upload Date: October 12, 2018

Alive

Marcella’s eyes fluttered in the light pressing against her eyelids. Memories swirled: of sunshine, of trees, of smiling people. The buzz of machinery mixed with more somber images of enclosed rooms, needles, and dark boxes. She jolted, snapping against restraints.

She’s coming around.

What’s happening?

More disjointed images. White dresses, maternity dresses, drab uniforms, lab coats, black dresses. People surrounding her in a tunnel of vision; laughing, crying, working, relaxing, celebrating, mourning, laying roses and lavender on her chest.

We’re reading neural spikes. Adjust the servos.

Marcella moaned, pulling against the restraints as she watched the red fire of the swollen sun burning across the landscape.

The end has come.

Rushing around the lab with her white lab coat fluttering behind her as she checked readings and news reports on the monitor banks. Comparative analyses. Furiously tapping calculations into her computer. Shouting as images of solar flares seeped through the thinning ionosphere.

No! We aren’t ready!

Mercury and Venus burning in the sky; harbingers of their fate. Tidal waves crashing into skyscrapers. Volcanos quaking the ground; explosions of ash spreading through the sky and raining on Earth.

The world grew fuzzy and swirled around her. Her legs collapsed. Blank eyes staring at a cold metal floor.

Her neurological functions are still firing randomly.

Is this host unstable?

Negative. The neurological connections sparked too fast. Her server is processing memories from the surviving biological components.

Launch the sedative program.

Marcella slumped against the bed as the images faded to soft organ music. The smell of roses and lavender filled her nose again.

They aren’t real.

The real roses and lavender were as dead as the ground they grew from. Dead flowers, dead people, dead Earth. It was a simulation; a computer program designing her senses.

A flat line whining. Voices shouting. Floating over two bodies: her own, and a robotic replication lying beside it.

Red flares. White light. Darkness and then light rising again.

Get her into a cryogenic chamber before there’s further neurological damage from the radiation.

Damage? What had they done?

Silence. The flat line blipped, settling in a rhythm of beeps.

She’s stabilizing. Remove the restraints.

Marcella’s eyes snapped opened, taking in the face of a nondescript woman standing over her. Marcella, how do you feel?

Not human, a soft motorized sound tingled in her ears as she raised her arms to study her heavy, lineless hands. I died.

The woman helped her to a sitting position. We couldn’t stop it. The sun went nova.