Fiction

Ledge

Mother, I have seen such marvels. Like the ocean aglow at night with a cold green fire and a fish with a child’s face and two fleshy whiskers. (No man would eat it. We blessed the creature and tossed it back.) I’ve seen a corpse with golden hair in a boat set adrift; his eyes were the slits on a newly born kitten.

In Dec. 2015 (Issue 59)

Fiction

The Glass Bottle Trick

by Nalo Hopkinson

The air was full of storms, but they refused to break. In the wicker rocking chair on the front verandah, Beatrice flexed her bare feet against the wooden slat floor, rocking slowly back and forth.

In Oct. 2014 (Issue 58)

Fiction

The Dryad’s Shoe

by T. Kingfisher

Once upon a time, in a land near and far away, there was a girl whose mother died when she was young.

In Oct. 2014 (Issue 58)

Fiction

Miss Carstairs and the Merman

by Delia Sherman

The night Miss Carstairs first saw the merman, there was a great storm along the Massachusetts coast. Down in the harbor town, old men sat in taverns drinking hot rum and cocking their ears at the wind whining and whistling in the chimneys.

In Oct. 2014 (Issue 58)

Fiction

The Scrimshaw and the Scream

by Kate Hall

The morning after she lost her art, Felicity sat at her speckled mirror, inspecting the glossy, gray-white feathers covering her cheeks and forehead.

In Oct. 2014 (Issue 58)

Fiction

Vici

by Naomi Novik

“Dragon-slaying is an honorable death, and generally quick, from my understanding; and will legally clear your debts. Unless you would prefer to commit suicide?” he inquired.

In Dec. 2011 (Issue 57)

Fiction

Crystal Halloway and the Forgotten Passage

by Seanan McGuire

The dire bat’s headless body lay on the floor of the cave like an accusation, blackish blood still seeping from its neck. Crystal looked at it and shuddered, disgusted, before giving it a sharp kick.

In Dec. 2011 (Issue 57)

Fiction

Torn Away

by Joe R. Lansdale

The license was invalid by a couple of months, and the photo on it looked somewhat like him but it was faded and not reliable. I told him so. “Oh,” he said. “I should have noticed it was out of date.”

In Dec. 2011 (Issue 57)

Fiction

Her Lover’s Golden Hair

by Nike Sulway

Lily’s hand is not resting carelessly in her lap. Lily’s sandy feet are not up on the dashboard. Lily’s salty hair is not blowing into a knotted, lovely mess.

In Dec. 2011 (Issue 57)

Fiction

The Swordsman Whose Name Was Not Death

by Ellen Kushner

Curious, he had asked the wounded man, “Did you slam into me on purpose?” People did sometimes, to provoke a fight with Richard St. Vier, the master swordsman who wouldn’t take challenges from just anyone.

In Nov. 2011 (Issue 56)