The Automaton

Hello readers, it’s a little earlier than I thought, but I have the newest addition to mcscriptor ready to be read!

Now before starting, I think it would be valuable to say that this Novelette is designed to make you think. It’s also my first attempt at a, metaphorical story. Comments and feedback are welcomed! Here it is, The Automaton.


The Automaton

 Max Smith was an everyday man. He had more or less the same lifestyle as all of his friends and neighbors.

Every day he would get up, eat breakfast with his wife and ready himself for work.

He would go to work, file away at papers for eight hours, sometimes eight and a half. He made decent money doing it to. When he was done clearing away his desk, he would return home at about 5:30.

After a dinner of pizza, chicken, sometimes salads, he would sit down on the computer or the TV. He would sit, he would watch and tap away at the keys. Occasionally stopping to use the bathroom or wipe a bit of drool from the side of his mouth.

When he was tired, he would change into his pajamas. Finally he would slide into bed, and a modest six or seven hours of sleep later, he would wake up.

He hit the snooze button on his clock, before finally stumbling out of bed.

Breakfast, ready, work. Wave hello to the co-workers. He was perfectly content in his highly scheduled life.

Until one day, the schedule changed. Max met a man by the name of Sage. Sage was a wise man, probably in his thirties, great grey eyes, and seemed to constantly have an air about him that Smith couldn’t quite finger, as Sage sat with his face buried in book, pen in hand.

The two conversed for a while, Sage turned out to be an avid reader, and he seemed to understand many points of life Max had never considered.

Sage asked Max about his life. Max gladly recited his daily routine and job, everyday conversation that he would have made with any of his co-workers.

Sage seemed quite intrigued. A look crossed his face.

“Not you too my friend. You are a victim of the clock. Think my friend, I beg you to think. You think as a clock, you live as an Automaton. That is no life, and there is more than that. Consider it please. Don’t live as the Automaton.”

Minutes passed, Max began to consider Sage a bit more strange than he had thought. Unfortunately, he didn’t take the strange new friend to heart. His watch beeped. His shift began in ten minutes.

Hopping into his car, he arrived at work, but was displaced to find that when he got there, he couldn’t park. His car was too large. He circled, and circled again.

No parking spaces. It couldn’t be!


© Copyright M.C. Scripturus and mcscriptor, 2013

So what did so think? This is a single part story, so next time will be something different. I hope you enjoyed that, and many other stories to come. -M.C. Scripturus

The Beyond, the Grand Finale

Behold, Part 3 of the Beyond, also the final part. I hope you thoroughly enjoyed it.


Sooner than I expected, White pulled up in not a car, or a truck, not even in a bus, but in an armoured banking truck that looked like it would be fit to transport the Hope diamond. I didn’t know where it came from, but I didn’t want to find out either.

The trek was about an hour. Everything was running along smoothly, despite the terrain.

Soon we arrived at the El mansion or, near it anyway. The whole escapade was one surprise after another, and the security was no disappointment either, for there must have been a quarter of the countries’ military stationed there, everything from helicopters to police officers in armoured suits; holding hundreds of thousands of people at bay behind wrought iron gates.

People yelled and screamed, clawing over one another trying to stay afloat. This was rioting at its peak. No one in their right mind would dare to infiltrate this facility. But I wasn’t right-minded.

Nearby a man stood upon a mammoth stack of crates yelling to the skies some crazed speech about the space agencies across the world had fallen, and how El was their last hope of survival, referring to him as the “harbinger of the new beginning.”

Soon someone toppled the boxes leaving the man to plummet to his fate. Momentarily transfixed, I was snapped back to reality by a bug eyed woman pulling at my sleeve yelling, “We must get on that ship! Get past those barbarians!”

It was true; it was like the whole world had turned barbaric. Now we acted like a giant pack of rabid dogs, desperate for blood. We worked our way back to the mobs edge, glass crunching under foot. I put my hand to my ringing ear as we discussed ideas.

Then, like the crack of lightning that stuck nearby, I had an idea. At the border of the crowd were two, tired and harried looking men in uniform.

To me, the thought of killing a man was absurd, absolutely absurd. Murder was a dark act, and when something was killed, it couldn’t be un-killed. But this wasn’t murder, I though, pausing in my own thoughts.  It was necessary. I told myself it was nothing. Anything that could generate reason, I did, to repel the on setting plague of guilt. Though considering we were all going to die soon anyway, what did it matter?

Several minutes later, we appeared donning stained and battered uniforms. Nobody would bother to check for ID, papers or anything. Who would?

We joined a small contingent of other uniformed men, who were wheeling stacks of crates to a large side door on the building. I thought perhaps, if they were destined for the ship, perhaps we could stow away in one of them?

As I walked with the others though, I couldn’t help but wonder how many of them actually belonged in that uniform, and how many shared the same idea we did.

My vision began to tunnel the further we got forward. Two-hundred feet, one-hundred feet, fifty feet. All I saw was the goal at hand, and all I heard was white noise.

Zero feet, I began to perspire as we reached the massive doors. It was only about a five minute walk from the gates to here but it felt like an eternity. The air suddenly turned thick and my breaths swallowed.

The doors opened to reveal a large, monochromatic room, stacked high with crates identical to the ones we had brought. The room smelled of metal and must.

I cracked a smile; this must be a cargo hold.

The others quickly retreated back down the path and out of sight, excitedly, I motioned White inside. We had to be swift if we were going to make ourselves hidden before the others returned.

But they weren’t coming back.

Just as we stepped in, a deafening roar sounded out shaking the ground beneath us. I looked out to see that the ground was getting farther and farther away. We were flying, and the mansion itself was the ship! Finally, the ship lurched precariously to one side.

In that single horrific moment, White lost his footing, falling to his knees, and began sliding down the slanted floor straight towards the open doorway.

I cried his name and lunged for him, just managing to grasp his hand before he fell. I was being dragged with him, but thankfully, I hooked myself to the door’s edge before I could go with him. I was safe, he was not.

I urged him not to let go. Desperately I pulled him back to me, but his weight grew strenuous on my arms and for just an instant, my grip slipped, and he fell. For good.

I only caught a glimpse of his face, accepting of all things, but nonetheless unforgettable. He would have no ceremony, no grave to be buried in. He would be cremated with the rest of the world. A blanket of cries and fire to mourn his death but no more.

A brave man, gone in a second.

So why me? Why was I here over anyone else? Was there a reason, or was I just lucky?

I yelled to the sky, as if I expected someone to answer. I dropped to my knees and cried out first in silence, then in a wallowing choke.

“Give me a sign! Show me the light to guide the way!”

No answer came, but as the doors slid shut and I collapsed against the floor, out of the tiny window, I gazed a single, bright star.

If that wasn’t a beacon of hope, I don’t know what was.

The ship lurched again, and I slid backwards, felt something strike my head and then everything fell into darkness.

That is how I came to be where I was, lying silently, head throbbing, on the middle of a cold steel floor, aboard a ship destined for nowhere, with only myself to speak to.

What would come next I didn’t know, life was full of surprises, so I guess I’d just have to play it by ear.


© Copyright M.C. Scripturus and mcscriptor, 2013

I shall start by saying, that I am incredibly happy to say that I have now completed the first novelette to be uploaded to mcscriptor.

I hope that you all enjoyed that to the maximum, and there is to be much more content. I can’t really speak for your opinion, so make sure you let me know what you thought in the comments.

Additionally, I’m also in the process of getting mcscriptor up on every social media I can find, so I’ll have those links soon. They can be found both in the sidebar and in the page labeled, “Find Me”. So far the FaceBook page is a go, so make sure you check it out.

I’ll try to refrain from ranting so I’ll cut it short now. But thank you for reading. I shall be back soon, (within a week) for some brand new content! -M.C. Scripturus

The Beyond Part 2

So here is Part 2 of The Beyond. Enjoy and make sure to tell your friends, family and any and all lovers of literature. Feedback welcomed!


            Finally the world gathered enough sense to communicate; it turned out that the recent weather spike and the cataclysm that followed was due to a traveling star, hidden behind our own sun, managing to elude space agencies across the globe.

It finally decided to appear before us, intending to fry us all to a crisp in the process.

There was a silver lining in a way though. All the politics and war, internal squabbles and external battles seemed to suspend themselves, so that everyone could focus on the more pressing crisis.

Plants withered and died all over, drought plaguing the most water rich places, wildfires ripping apart even the densest forests, and the heat rose to over eighty degrees at its coolest temperatures.

Albeit a useful tool, technology had become vital parts of everyday life in nearly everywhere. When it ceased working, now we were not only running like mice fleeing from a carving knife, but we were running blind, and deaf.

I thought the chaos was unleashed already, but that would be nothing compared to when the world realised it was going to become a contest of survival before the oceans boiled over like a giant tea kettle and we burned in its wake within a matter of days.

It was almost like utter disaster had a grace period. A point where you could almost relax and see your life flash before your eyes, saying good-bye to everything you once loved.

When it truly came down to survival, you would do anything. You would kill for what you needed, and you’d go to extremes for what you didn’t.

Perhaps it was only by mere chance, or perhaps there was some miracle light shining down on me, but I was a big fan of history, and my basement happened to contain a telegraph that I used to communicate with one of my old friends when we were bored. (Not that I knew why, but I suppose it was useful for something like if the world were ending.)

His name was White Smith.

I frantically sent out an SOS to get a return a short time later. What I found was so mind-blowing that I actually had to read it over more than once.

White asked if I had ever heard of a man called El Vain. I had, as he was a billionaire that lived in the area. His mansion was a fortress, and he had money. Beyond that, few people knew much about him, but apparently now was the time he chose to make himself known. El had decided to launch the Beyond Project.

The Beyond project was a multimillion, possibly billion dollar project that he had been keeping under wraps for who knew how long?

It was a project with one mission; finding a home in outer-space.

A flying fortress built for a legion of people. El was either the most paranoid person in history or he had a filthy little secret he wasn’t sharing with any of us.

There was a problem though; I doubted there would be even five-thousand people aboard whatever ship he had built and intended to leave in. I had to be one of them.

Getting to the mansion itself would be the first hurdle. With use of the telegraph, I sent White another message. We made arrangements to get ourselves to the mansion. We would leave everything behind, except for what we absolutely needed. No material possessions mattered anymore. Parting with everything I had ever owned was not an easy feat either, as one could imagine.


© Copyright M.C. Scripturus and mcscriptor, 2013

Part 3 should be up within a few days. Am I building your excitement? Until next time. -M.C. Scripturus

The Beginning

So this is the first short story post on mcscriptor! Because of its size I will be uploading it in two or three parts.

Here is part one of The Beyond!


The Beyond

A Short Story by:

M.C. Scripturus

            I opened my eyes slowly to find a dull grey ceiling above me. The floor trembled with an unceasing hum. Around me the room was filled with crates only a shade lighter than the floor. Not a single distinction to be found.

My head ached and my mind was still foggy, I knew that my consciousness had just returned.

I mentally reviewed what had happened to get me here.

It was one morning when it all started. I lived in a bustling metropolis, like that of a relentless beehive, things were always moving. The air was most often alive with the sounds of barking dogs, wailing sirens, and the roar of car engines just to name a few.

I flicked on the radio as I brewed my morning tea. The clock blinked on and off, clearly in need of resetting. I expected to have news or music as one normally would, but all I found was static.

I began to suspect something was wrong, maybe a power outage? I thought I’d check with one of the neighbors.

I strode to the door and cracked it open slowly; I was amazed, no, shocked when I looked out, rubbing my eyes and stepping onto the deck just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. Oven like heat blasted me, along with the putrid tang of smoke. Though that wasn’t the worst, the sky, as I had always known it to be blue, was now red as blood.

And it was as if my eyes were deceiving me, but there were two suns in the sky! It looked as if the very world were burning before me.

It was the prophesized apocalypse, such a mire of fear and confusion that I never thought possible. How would you have reacted?

But the whole song and dance was just beginning.


© Copyright M.C. Scripturus and mcscriptor, 2013

So what did you think? I’m open to your comments so be sure to leave some! Are you looking forward to part 2? It will be up tomorrow or the day after. Until next time. -M.C. Scripturus