Permutations
Data Stream 0
26 stories
Climate Change Apocalypse Stories
A climate change apocalypse is a slow or sudden end-times scenario caused by global heating, sea-level rise, storms, drought, famine, wildfire, ocean collapse, mass migration, or wider ecological breakdown. Unlike single-disaster apocalypses, climate stories often unfold through accumulation: each heatwave, flood, failed harvest, and political compromise becomes part of a larger planetary transformation that ordinary people must endure.
Read original climate change apocalypse short stories on this page from world-class authors, selected from the Ash Tales archive.
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Traveller's Unrest
“Ale’s going off,” he shouted into space across the empty inn. Beric swilled the last mouthful. There was a sickly sweet taste to it, and it was flat, almost syrupy.
Like Wildfire
The riots were three blocks over and the power was cutting in and out, so she packed her camping gear and drove hard and fast out of the valley, leaving the smog and concrete behind.
The Gates of Morbach
Chains and ropes creaked on the other side of the great gate. Beyond, Grade could hear the sounds of life and livestock, mingling with the rain.
Fourteenth Birthday Chat
“Hear that si–” …lence, boy? That’s right, the generator’s down.
The Chosen Ones
As we wake up, our first glance is towards the giant floor to ceiling window. We anxiously rake the blackness until we spot it, still there, hanging on.
Assyria the Beautiful
There is a Rand McNally Histomap taped to the front of my closet, a map of human history that spans nearly floor to ceiling.
Hey, Are You Awake?
I’ve been pregnant less than a week when the earthquake hits.
The Green Priest
Halvar sheltered under the branches of an old willow tree, hidden from sight by a thick curtain of fronds that trailed the river’s surface.
Mirage
My child’s hand pulls me toward the horizon, points. I pause and stare.
Dance up the Sun
I got out of bed, and shivered. Edith said it was the middle of April, and even I remembered April being warmer than this. The clock had run down in the night, even though I’d wound it up at bedtime.
The Ocean, The Monster
The ocean is a monster, Georgie told Judy when he watched her throw a sand dollar into the water. How many is that now?
After the Deluge
endings
The Cabin
It’s the silence that gets to you.
The Last Cherry Orchard
Bastian sat heavily in the angle formed by tree trunk and crust. He pushed a hand through the topsoil, and cried at the unnatural chemical balance revealed in the narrow, pigmented furrows.
You Skyscraper Kind
A long time ago, someone scrawl’d the story of the dust men on the fire escape wall. It say dust men come an’ take our wives an’ children. They come sayin’: ‘You skyscraper kind livin’ in drowned old world places.
The Balmoral Revenants
I saw them come for the bench, the one presented to Ruth on her retirement from teaching. I’d got used to staying up late and taking a peek at the grounds from behind the curtains.
The Perfect Storm
“We opened the Gates of Heaven with pouring water.
Ends Meat
There it was again – that smell. Barrick glanced at his father. He had his eyes closed but he probably wasn’t asleep, just too exhausted by hunger to keep them open.
Escape from L.A.
Cuervo Jones to Snake Plissken: “You might have survived Cleveland. You might have escaped from New York. But this is L.A., vato. And you’re about to find out that this fucking place can kill anybody.”
Earth Day 2117
Joss McIntyre sat on his favorite knoll and looked down at The Camp spread below in the small steep-walled valley. Though early Spring, the tree under which he sat was fully leaved, providing welcomed shade against the heat of the bright sun.
Heat and Darkness
When the impending heatwave was announced, with a warning that people should plan to stay inside their homes for at least a week, my first thought was that this would be an opportunity to move in with Dahlia. Given her health problem, she was likely to need help.
Drowned World
Elani sheltered under the branches of an old willow tree, hidden from sight, her aluminium canoe bobbing on the water.
Desolation
They were called “The Good People”. They turned up at the settlement every six months, near as Arch could tell.
The Watcher
He sat in the hide and watched the rain fall. He watched the big, broad leaved trees shudder with every raindrop, and he watched great evergreens weather the storm without acknowledgement.
A Letter to 2499
Dear Future World, Future Humanity, if you are even there then!