Stories


Beautifully written science fiction and fantasy.



The Lost Heirs of Rose McAlder – Kate Lechler

When Rose McAlder died at eighty-five, it took us all of an hour to congregate on her property, rubbing our hands and stamping our feet against the October chill. We hadn’t known it was she who had lived in the big old house on the corner of Seventh and Price all those years. When the news broke that morning—not only was Norbury’s local recluse dead, but she also happened to be a famous author—we poked…

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Just Five Minutes – George Allen Miller

“Can I get five for fifteen?” an old man said. Jerome looked up from the sidewalk and into the old man’s eyes. Junior was a local; he’d grown up two houses down the street, though he didn’t live there anymore. He usually slept in the alley behind Tenth Street, beside a dumpster. His wrinkled face, half covered with patches of gray beard, held a mix of sadness and pain, just like every other long time…

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Chambers of the Heart – B. Morris Allen

Despair and Ecstasy are the simplest. Ecstasy is the small and cozy room of a cottage that looks out on a broad meadow in the forest. In the spring, elk come to posture and to mate, and the wildflowers bloom on every side. In the fall, mist dances in silver swirls framed by gold and bronze and copper trees. It is always spring or fall. Despair is a vast, dark hall of low ceilings and…

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The Naked Me – N. Immanuel Velez

Jareth eased into a parking spot, turning off the rock ‘n’ roll screaming from the radio. The wind nipped at his skin, so he zipped up his jacket a little tighter. His silver necklace winked at him in the reflection off the convenience store windows. A month ago this place would have been teeming with evening rush hour customers, but not today, not anymore. The bell dinged. Plastic sheeting and caution signs still covered the…

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A Nightingale’s Map of the City – by Suzanne J. Willis

The white stone buildings of the city gleam like scattered pearls, their peaks and towers reaching for the vertiginous blue of the sky. Atop the spires and turrets and minarets, domes and curlicues of gold-leaf sparkle, making the city seem dusted with slow-burning embers. The ghost of the giant Gustav, the city’s architect and creator, walks cobbled alleyways that are carpeted in moss, skimming past the tiny ferns growing from arched doorways. It is the…

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Halfsies – Eric Del Carlo

The new word seemed somehow old-fashioned. Halfsies. Like how Tariq’s sun-shrunken, onetime surfer grandfather would say “rad” when he deemed some event or circumstance especially good. Halfsies, as a term, sounded funny and harmless. But it wasn’t meant to be funny, Tariq had learned. And it sure as hell wasn’t harmless, not according to Tariq’s friend from the liberated camp, Kayleigh, who explained to him, “It’s a prejudice word.” The human soldiers who had come…

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