From Modern Mythcraft to Magical Surrealism

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Fiction

Fiction

Virgin of the Sands

Graham came out of the desert leaving most of his men dead behind him. He debriefed, he bathed, he dressed in a borrowed uniform, and without food, without rest, though he needed both, he went to see the girl.

Fiction

The Immortality Game

Decades later the music was what really tipped Glen off. He heard a song on the radio, a brand new release, and remembered the day he’d first heard it, twenty years earlier.

Fiction

A Prince of Thirteen Days

I clear my throat. “Mister Statue Man,” I say, because I haven’t grown up on the Border without learning to be polite around magic. “Do you think you might have sex with me?”

Fiction

Sandmagic

Where are the uncles? Cer thought. The uncles must come. But the uncles were not there, and Cer heard a terrible scream from inside the garden walls.

Fiction

The Devil in Gaylord’s Creek

I got my sword out of the trunk. Its name was Stella Mortua. John Ray hadn’t had a clue, but Francis told me what it meant: The Dead Star.

Fiction

Creation

I learned about creation from Mrs. Grimm, in the basement of her house down the street from ours. The room was dimly lit by a stained-glass lamp positioned above the pool table. There was also a bar in the corner.

Fiction

Study, for Solo Piano

The windows go first, from enemy fire and bad frosts. Then the moss and ivy move in, and the birds, and the rain. At last, the brick begins to crumble. By the time the Circus comes, it will be a ruin.

Fiction

A Hunter’s Ode to His Bait

“I’ll take her.” He tossed the pouch of silver at the woman. It landed at her feet, and she hurried to pick it up. Her husband was dead, and she had eight other children to feed.

Fiction

The House of Gears

The notes had referred to a Monsieur Samhet, who lived in a strange house in the hills. They were vague about Samhet’s accomplishments, but he seemed capable of resurrecting with an insolent ease that intrigued Cabal.

Fiction

The Woman Who Married the Man in the Moon

Stories never end. We end. If we could but live long enough, we would see how all tales go on and on past the telling