Daily Science Fiction showcases some of the best science and fiction fantasy being written today!
Original science fiction and fantasy emailed to you every weekday.
Friday, 31 December 2010
EVERY DAY FICTION: UPDATE
Every Day Fiction is a magazine that specializes in bringing you fine fiction in bite-size doses. Every day, we publish a new short story of 1000 words or fewer that can be read during your lunch hour, on transit, or even over breakfast.
Feel free to browse around the site, check out our archives, or even sign up to receive a short story in your inbox... every day!
Thursday, 30 December 2010
BENEATH CEASELESS SKIES: UPDATE
Issues available in the Amazon Kindle Store
"The Sumer King," by Megan Arkenberg
"Shit," I said, and that sat there ugly and twitching between us for a few seconds before his stallion decided he'd had enough and wanted to go check out the mares. The King just had enough time to swoop up into his saddle before the horse made a beeline through the crowd. "Come and see me sometime, Livia!" he called, and then he was gone, swallowed up in the blue.
"Transitions of Truth and Tears," by David G. Blake
Garran spotted the fountain long before he reached its base. Water spurted into the air, sprung from a stone wineskin held by a life-sized statue of the founder of Vihal...one of the murderers of Beliath. Garran repeated that fact in his head as he pushed through the last throng of people, a part of him both amazed and horrified that no one had stopped him yet; a much deeper part shamed that he had not stopped on his own.
"The Suffering Gallery," by Matthew Kressel, from BCS #57
Mielbok stared at the boy. "I'm Mielbok the White Worm! Mielbok the Foul! Mielbok the Eater of Minds! What can you do for me, human? To me, you’re just food not yet ripe. A fruit just waiting to be plucked! Quiet yourself, before you wake the Lady. She'll make a mockery of you!"
From the Archives:
"The Sacrifice Pit," by Brian Dolton, from BCS #16
Sanquor shook his head. How could such foolishness, such misunder- standing, have taken root? Of course the thoravids had to be destroyed; of course any trace of them had to be scourged. They were an abomination in the sight of the Tetharan.
Thursday, 16 December 2010
BENEATH CEASELESS SKIES: UPDATE
Issue #58 -- Dec. 16, 2010
"Red Dirt ," by Ian McHugh
The shadows on the buildings seemed alive with movement, although the air was too cool for mirages. The memory of my dream still lingered, fooling my weary brain into believing that I glimpsed animal shapes writhing there. I hurried my pace along the empty streets, wondering if I should just pay the Commissaire's bribe and be done with the place.
The shadows on the buildings seemed alive with movement, although the air was too cool for mirages. The memory of my dream still lingered, fooling my weary brain into believing that I glimpsed animal shapes writhing there. I hurried my pace along the empty streets, wondering if I should just pay the Commissaire's bribe and be done with the place.
"Lession's Tower," by Fox McGeever
Lession's first catch was an old drunk, a silver-haired sailor who was staggering through one of the back streets. When he bit a chunk from the drunk's shoulder, the man went limp. The initial thrill of tasting meat soon evaporated. The flesh was old, sour, steeped with alcohol. He couldn’t take this back for Hurkerna. No. Goat would taste far better.
Lession's first catch was an old drunk, a silver-haired sailor who was staggering through one of the back streets. When he bit a chunk from the drunk's shoulder, the man went limp. The initial thrill of tasting meat soon evaporated. The flesh was old, sour, steeped with alcohol. He couldn’t take this back for Hurkerna. No. Goat would taste far better.
From the Archives:
"Sorrow's Blade," by Rita Oakes, from BCS #24
Meurig scrambled to his feet, confused. “Your pardon, that I missed prayers,” he said to Father Ambrose. “My heart is too heavy for my words to rise.” He had pierced the skin of worlds, however briefly. Now Rhiannon was a sword again, and Caedmon would die."
"Sorrow's Blade," by Rita Oakes, from BCS #24
Meurig scrambled to his feet, confused. “Your pardon, that I missed prayers,” he said to Father Ambrose. “My heart is too heavy for my words to rise.” He had pierced the skin of worlds, however briefly. Now Rhiannon was a sword again, and Caedmon would die."
ABSENT WILLOW REVIEW: UPDATE
December 2010
Emma Bovary
by Lee Robertson
Fade to White
by Michael James McFarland
Yesterdays Tomorrows
by Devin Hodgins
The Mirror
by Brandon Taylor
The Last Boy Left in Town
by Chris Castle
Button Breather
by Chris Castle
Adversary
by Wayne Faust
Popcorn
by Christine Dougherty
What God Made First
by Stephen McQuiggan
Unicorn 1
by Anna Skyora
Next Hero
by Emily Crawford-Margison
Tuesday, 14 December 2010
HUB: UPDATE
Issue 133
Fiction
And The Northmen Brought Their Gods by Louise Morgan
Non-Fiction
Reviews
Corvus
The Terror and the Tortoiseshell
Corvus
The Terror and the Tortoiseshell
Feature
Open Sourcing Armageddon by Alasdair Stuart
http://www.hubfiction.com/
Monday, 6 December 2010
ABANDONED TOWERS: UPDATE
New fiction and poetry from
Christopher Heath
Doug Hilton
Sandra S. Richardson
Carol Scott
Dustin Wier
Timothy A. Sayell
Trent Amor
Tim McDaniel
Erik VanBezooijen
Sandy Wardrope
Robert Mancebo
David Pilling
S.J. Higbee
Richard Marsden
Harry Calhoun
Richard H. Fay
Emily Hayes
Troy D. Young
Christina Getty
Denny E. Marshall
Michael D. Turner
Rick Coonrod
Robert William Shmigelsky
Chad Weiss
Allen Kopp
IRON BOUND: UPDATE
December 2010
Tall Tale Newly Told by Changming Yuan
Un Lound Secret by Sunil P. Narayan
Meeting by Joanna M. Weston
The Statue by Rich Feitelberg
Blood of Warriors, Blood of Kings by Alva J. Roberts
The Rekein Boy by Tannen Bell
Douglas by E. J Leora
Etchings by Ben Johnson
Thursday, 2 December 2010
BENEATH CEASELESS SKIES: UPDATE
Issue #57 -- Dec. 2, 2010
"The Suffering Gallery," by Matthew Kressel
Mielbok stared at the boy. "I'm Mielbok the White Worm! Mielbok the Foul! Mielbok the Eater of Minds! What can you do for me, human? To me, you’re just food not yet ripe. A fruit just waiting to be plucked! Quiet yourself, before you wake the Lady. She'll make a mockery of you!"
"The Suffering Gallery," by Matthew Kressel
Mielbok stared at the boy. "I'm Mielbok the White Worm! Mielbok the Foul! Mielbok the Eater of Minds! What can you do for me, human? To me, you’re just food not yet ripe. A fruit just waiting to be plucked! Quiet yourself, before you wake the Lady. She'll make a mockery of you!"
"A Bounty Split Three Ways," by Peter Kovic
A floating tree starts as a seed in the sky but needs no soil. It takes air, sun, and rain and turns them into leaves and branches. It doesn’t need roots either. It only grows more leaves and branches, until a full-grown floating oak is like an uneven ball of leaves. I asked L'Acoste, are they the work of nature or some wizard so long ago that he had been forgotten? His response was "who knows these things."
From the Archives:
"The Shades of Morgana," by Dean Wells, from BCS #48
Sully could practically feel her glance brushing along his skin like silky smooth lips. It could, more to the point, the thing inside him, exploiting his senses as if they were its own. She stood and stretched, then strolled to the doors of carved tulgey wood that opened into the mews outside. Sully caught her fragrance, the scent of her feminine places, a smell of spice and rich dark petals of bloodleaf. "Sabrina? Don’t get too close."
A floating tree starts as a seed in the sky but needs no soil. It takes air, sun, and rain and turns them into leaves and branches. It doesn’t need roots either. It only grows more leaves and branches, until a full-grown floating oak is like an uneven ball of leaves. I asked L'Acoste, are they the work of nature or some wizard so long ago that he had been forgotten? His response was "who knows these things."
From the Archives:
"The Shades of Morgana," by Dean Wells, from BCS #48
Sully could practically feel her glance brushing along his skin like silky smooth lips. It could, more to the point, the thing inside him, exploiting his senses as if they were its own. She stood and stretched, then strolled to the doors of carved tulgey wood that opened into the mews outside. Sully caught her fragrance, the scent of her feminine places, a smell of spice and rich dark petals of bloodleaf. "Sabrina? Don’t get too close."
3 LOBED BURNING EYE ANNUAL
Three-lobed Burning Eye Annual - vol. V
Edited by Andrew S. Fuller
Edited by Andrew S. Fuller
This collection features stories of horror and wonder by: Vera Searles, Graeme Penman, Edward Morris, Dirk van Nouhuys, Neil Ayres, Jason Hauser, Bret Tallman, Lida Broadhurst, Miranda Ciccone, Isaac Fellows, Nadia Bulkin, Matthew Chrulew, Kelly Barnhill, John Medaille, D. E. Wasden, Mari Ness, Chuck Von Nordheim, Ward Crockett, Georgina Bruce, Jessica Reisman, Adam Browne, J M McDermott, Cheryl W. Ruggiero, Ferrett Steinmetz, Jennifer Stakes, Shweta Narayan, DeAnna Knippling, Justin Lee, Seth Cadin, and Jennifer Hollie Bowles.
Order here http://www.legionpress.com/3lbe5.html
Monday, 1 November 2010
WILD STACKS
Almost all types of fantasy will be considered, from horror to heroic fiction, sword & sorcery, urban fantasy, steam-punk, supernatural, surreal, weird fiction, and noir crime. No hard science fiction, erotica or stories designed to gross out."
Welcome to Wild Stacks: the Library of the Imagination, the online magazine that is home for stories that explore and expand the imagination. Wild Stacks is published quarterly by The Alchemy Press. Issue 1 is due shortly. Meanwhile, for Issue 0 we're proud to present stories from Allen Ashley, Mike Chinn and Anne Gay.
Friday, 22 October 2010
BENEATH CEASELESS SKIES: UPDATE
Issue #54 -- Oct. 21, 2010
Issues now available in the Amazon Kindle Store
"Dying on the Elephant Road," by Steve Rasnic Tem
Abe experienced the odd sensation of Madame Oljon inside his head aligning her face with his, pushing eyes and lips forward past his own as they both stared at the small figure near the center of the room sitting cross-legged on a high cushion, naked save for a loincloth, smiling idiotically (not unlike, Abe thought, the wizard Philoneus’s own idiotic smile).
"Beloved of the Sun," by Ann Leckie
I had seen the image in the Zuxugo girl's cloak, in the basketful of butterflies she had brought, but those had been stylized and lifeless. These butteflies were alive, brown, with one wide, staring eye on each upper wing. They didn't fly straight as the hawk would have, but bobbed and circled, haphazard. Their wings were far more delicate than any gold or stone image could depict.
Audio Fiction Podcast 047
"More Full of Weeping Than You Can Understand," by Rosamund Hodge, from BCS #53
For the first few years, Violet only passed information, while the reports of faery incursions began to grow. Then--when they went to London for her introduction into society--three things happened. The faeries turned the Prime Minister’s fingers into twigs and his eyes into acorns. Papa died. And Thomas discovered what she was.
From the Archives:
"System, Magic, Spirit," by T.D. Edge, from BCS #17
But experience had taught me that dissertations on magical systems are incredibly dull for all save the oblivious nincompoop who actually believes anyone wants to listen. No, when people ask you what you 'do', all they really want is a snappy line or two they can repeat over dinner later. Well, to hell with that.
Issues now available in the Amazon Kindle Store
"Dying on the Elephant Road," by Steve Rasnic Tem
Abe experienced the odd sensation of Madame Oljon inside his head aligning her face with his, pushing eyes and lips forward past his own as they both stared at the small figure near the center of the room sitting cross-legged on a high cushion, naked save for a loincloth, smiling idiotically (not unlike, Abe thought, the wizard Philoneus’s own idiotic smile).
"Beloved of the Sun," by Ann Leckie
I had seen the image in the Zuxugo girl's cloak, in the basketful of butterflies she had brought, but those had been stylized and lifeless. These butteflies were alive, brown, with one wide, staring eye on each upper wing. They didn't fly straight as the hawk would have, but bobbed and circled, haphazard. Their wings were far more delicate than any gold or stone image could depict.
Audio Fiction Podcast 047
"More Full of Weeping Than You Can Understand," by Rosamund Hodge, from BCS #53
For the first few years, Violet only passed information, while the reports of faery incursions began to grow. Then--when they went to London for her introduction into society--three things happened. The faeries turned the Prime Minister’s fingers into twigs and his eyes into acorns. Papa died. And Thomas discovered what she was.
From the Archives:
"System, Magic, Spirit," by T.D. Edge, from BCS #17
But experience had taught me that dissertations on magical systems are incredibly dull for all save the oblivious nincompoop who actually believes anyone wants to listen. No, when people ask you what you 'do', all they really want is a snappy line or two they can repeat over dinner later. Well, to hell with that.
Monday, 18 October 2010
ABSENT WILLOW REVIEW: UPDATE
The Worg King by K.R HagerThe Pen by J Rodriguez
Carved by Craig Pirrall
A Shepherd of Mules by John Conners
Karma, Inc by Barry Sykes
The Guardians by Robert Walford
Love and Fame by Steven Gulvezan
Eustace by Curt Jeffreys
Remembering Human by Bint Arab
Kiss Me Blarney Stone by Tony Peak
Hallo-Whoosh by Pamela J. Jessen
Beast of the Red Path by Christopher Hivner
http://absentwillowreview.com/
Thursday, 14 October 2010
HUB: UPDATE
Issue 130
Fiction
If You Believe In Me by Emma Jane Davies
Feature
The Crimson Rivers
Reviews
Toy Story 3
X-Necrosha
Friday, 8 October 2010
BENEATH CEASELESS SKIES: UPDATE
Beneath Ceaseless Skies
An Online Magazine ofLiterary Adventure Fantasy
Issue #53, Second Anniversary Double-Issue -- Oct. 7, 2010
An Online Magazine ofLiterary Adventure Fantasy
Issue #53, Second Anniversary Double-Issue -- Oct. 7, 2010
"Lady of the Ghost Willow," by Richard Parks
I had little talent for poetry, but my instruction in the classic metaphors was probably no less extensive than Akio's. The poem was both an entreaty and a question; that much was clear. But what was the answer? One who might be able to tell me was beyond speech now and might be for some time, if not forever.
"The Curse of Chimère," by Tony Pi
I walked down the aisle, passing frozen spectators whose eyes were riveted to the screen and weeping blood. I recognised the Mayor immediately by his bold muttonchops, and beside him, the actor Franchot Aucoin, whose lecherous exploits were as legendary off-screen as on. Both men were bleeding as though their eyes had been gouged out and pressed back in.
I walked down the aisle, passing frozen spectators whose eyes were riveted to the screen and weeping blood. I recognised the Mayor immediately by his bold muttonchops, and beside him, the actor Franchot Aucoin, whose lecherous exploits were as legendary off-screen as on. Both men were bleeding as though their eyes had been gouged out and pressed back in.
"The Girl Who Tasted the Sea," by Sarah L. Edwards
A lift of a wing and their soaring arc encompassed the whole of the house. They swung around it and Abby could see them now, the twin pillars of stone upon which she’d lived all her life. Suddenly she was dropping nearer, nearer, and then they landed in the carved hollow in one pillar just a foot above the tide. She ignored the trembling in her legs as she crouched at the edge and dipped her fingers in the water.
A lift of a wing and their soaring arc encompassed the whole of the house. They swung around it and Abby could see them now, the twin pillars of stone upon which she’d lived all her life. Suddenly she was dropping nearer, nearer, and then they landed in the carved hollow in one pillar just a foot above the tide. She ignored the trembling in her legs as she crouched at the edge and dipped her fingers in the water.
"More Full of Weeping Than You Can Understand," by Rosamund Hodge
For the first few years, she only passed information, while the reports of faery incursions began to grow. Then--when they went to London for Violet’s introduction into society--three things happened. The faeries turned the Prime Minister’s fingers into twigs and his eyes into acorns. Papa died. And Thomas discovered what she was.
Audio Fiction Podcast 046
"The Girl Who Tasted the Sea," by Sarah L. Edwards, from BCS #53
They landed in the carved hollow in one pillar just a foot above the tide. She ignored the trembling in her legs as she crouched at the edge and dipped her fingers in the water.
For the first few years, she only passed information, while the reports of faery incursions began to grow. Then--when they went to London for Violet’s introduction into society--three things happened. The faeries turned the Prime Minister’s fingers into twigs and his eyes into acorns. Papa died. And Thomas discovered what she was.
Audio Fiction Podcast 046
"The Girl Who Tasted the Sea," by Sarah L. Edwards, from BCS #53
They landed in the carved hollow in one pillar just a foot above the tide. She ignored the trembling in her legs as she crouched at the edge and dipped her fingers in the water.
Monday, 4 October 2010
INNSMOUTH FREE PRESS: UPDATE
Issue 5
The Concierto Of Señor Lorenzo
by Kenneth Yu
The Night We Burned Our Hearts Out
by Paul Jessup
The Changeling
by Tom Hamilton
Beneath The Cold Black Sea
by Martin Hayes
Borgan’s Deli
by Jarrid Deaton
The Green World
by Julio Toro San Martin
The Song of Tussagaroth
by James Lecky
Nibbling
by Cheryl McCreary
HUB: UPDATE
Issue 129Fiction
Tashi’s Future Lover by Dave Hoing
Reviews
Saturn’s Children
Against The Darkness
Infoquake: Book 1 of the Jump 225 Trilogy
Saturn’s Children
Against The Darkness
Infoquake: Book 1 of the Jump 225 Trilogy
Feature
Marble Hornets and the Urban Myth Creation of Doom! by Phil Lunt
Marble Hornets and the Urban Myth Creation of Doom! by Phil Lunt
Friday, 1 October 2010
HEROIC FANTASY QUARTERLY: UPDATE
Issue 6
Fiction
David Pilling - Heart of Man
Robert Rhodes - The Sea Wasps
Poetry
Charles Saplak - Ambition, Purpose, Outcome
Shennandoah Diaz - The Dance
Artwork by Mariusz Gandzel.
IRON BOUND ISSUE 1
A new ezine of sword and sorcery and fantasy fictionIssue One includes
Ty Johnston - Behold Now the Behemoth
A.D Dawson - The White Rabbit/ The Mole Hole/ Rose's Baby
Jesse Dedman - Moranet's Rebirth
David J. West - Sailing to Valhalla
James Lecky - The Cold Legions
http://ironboundmag.wordpress.com/
Thursday, 30 September 2010
BENEATH CEASELESS SKIES: UPDATE
"The Guilt Child," by Margaret Ronald
Carla caught her breath as the shape came clear: a face of pipes and fittings and gears, its eyes glowing faintly with the sheen of werglass. The mouth was only an expressionless line of cable, but when the voice spoke again there was no question whose it was. "Who is she?"
Carla caught her breath as the shape came clear: a face of pipes and fittings and gears, its eyes glowing faintly with the sheen of werglass. The mouth was only an expressionless line of cable, but when the voice spoke again there was no question whose it was. "Who is she?"
"Invitation of the Queen," by Therese Arkenberg
I demanded the return of Tahileh. She was mine, and had been working for Leuhovesen instead for far too long. I thought of the cries I heard the night before when I slept beneath the attic, but I refrained from saying anything, which given Leuhovesen’s temper that day was probably wise.
Audio Fiction Podcast 045
"Winecask Bellies and Owl Wings," by Liz Coleman, from BCS #50
So I made a horse. I made bones of iron and a mane of silk. Tendons of rubber from the king's caravans. I gave it a belly made from a wine vat. Around this I wrapped a skin of black and brown velvet--brindled bars such as no horse had, but that would make a cage to contain its life. I would ride this horse to freedom, away from my prison to the wastes where I’d fly with my sisters on owl wings.
From the Archives:
"The Tinyman and Caroline," by Sarah L. Edwards, from BCS #17
It came to Jabey that Sloan’d never looked at these glasses in proper light; what if they were just a cheap shiny? But the sudden sharp panic receded as he pulled them from his pocket and unwrapped the linen. They were indeed a tiny pair of opera glasses, with a simplicity and a heft about them that suggested expense.
I demanded the return of Tahileh. She was mine, and had been working for Leuhovesen instead for far too long. I thought of the cries I heard the night before when I slept beneath the attic, but I refrained from saying anything, which given Leuhovesen’s temper that day was probably wise.
Audio Fiction Podcast 045
"Winecask Bellies and Owl Wings," by Liz Coleman, from BCS #50
So I made a horse. I made bones of iron and a mane of silk. Tendons of rubber from the king's caravans. I gave it a belly made from a wine vat. Around this I wrapped a skin of black and brown velvet--brindled bars such as no horse had, but that would make a cage to contain its life. I would ride this horse to freedom, away from my prison to the wastes where I’d fly with my sisters on owl wings.
From the Archives:
"The Tinyman and Caroline," by Sarah L. Edwards, from BCS #17
It came to Jabey that Sloan’d never looked at these glasses in proper light; what if they were just a cheap shiny? But the sudden sharp panic receded as he pulled them from his pocket and unwrapped the linen. They were indeed a tiny pair of opera glasses, with a simplicity and a heft about them that suggested expense.
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
DAILY SCIENCE FICTION: UPDATE
Edited by Jonathan Laden and Michele Barasso, Daily Science Fiction does exactly what it says on the tin - delivering sf and fantasy stories to your inbox every weekday.
Recent authors have included Colin Harvey, Cat Rambo, Melissa Mead, Ree Young and Debs Walker.
It'll only cost you a little time to subscribe and any new market for short fiction is always worth supporting.
http://dailysciencefiction.com/
Thursday, 16 September 2010
ABSENT WILLOW REVIEW: UPDATE
Kathy Watness – Crossroads
Morgen Knight – The Best He Could Give
Valerie Geary – All That Was Left
Rebecca Roland – The Leaving is Joyful
Paul Demopoulos – For Peanuts
Thomas Cowan – Mr Mao’s Meat World
Allison C. Meier – The Rat King
J.B Ronan – A Piece of Home
Donovan Hall – The Dying of the Light
Ryan Neil Falcone – Adrift
James W. Morris – The Fools
Philip Roberts – Words in the Dirt
http://absentwillowreview.com/
Morgen Knight – The Best He Could Give
Valerie Geary – All That Was Left
Rebecca Roland – The Leaving is Joyful
Paul Demopoulos – For Peanuts
Thomas Cowan – Mr Mao’s Meat World
Allison C. Meier – The Rat King
J.B Ronan – A Piece of Home
Donovan Hall – The Dying of the Light
Ryan Neil Falcone – Adrift
James W. Morris – The Fools
Philip Roberts – Words in the Dirt
http://absentwillowreview.com/
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
ONIRISMES
Onirismes is a bilingual webzine (English - French), dedicated to publishing short fiction and poetry that belong in the fields of speculative and fantastic literature (Fantasy, Science fiction, and all kinds of interstitial experiments).
Word limit: Between 2000 and 4000 words for short stories. We have no fixed rule for poetry, just don't send us the Iliad.
Thursday, 9 September 2010
BENEATH CEASELESS SKIES: UPDATE
Issue 51"Two by Zero"
by Garth Upshaw
Katherine's hands found the button at the throat of her dress, and she unstrung the tiny loop that kept it fastened. I gazed at her milk-white skin and swallowed. Katherine laughed. Her fingers flew down the front of her dress like birds, shedding waves of fabric with every motion. She stepped out of the pile of material at her feet and stood naked before me.
"The Swallow and the Sea"
by E. Catherine Tobler
'Twas Abigail who answered, standing some way across the deck. It sounded like the entire crew took a collective breath at the sight of her. Water streamed from her now ill-fitting gown. It seemed as though she was coming apart, becoming water as she crossed to us. Through corset and skirt, it drenched her.
Audio Fiction Podcast 044
"And Blow Them at the Moon," by Marie Brennan, from BCS #50
A church grim like Magrat could taste death, scent it on the air, feel it in the marrow of her bones. Every mortal carried a little bit; death was always a possibility, from accident or disease. But sometimes the possibility grew stronger, closer, when a man stood at a fork in the road, then chose the path that led toward peril.
From the Archives:
"Kreisler's Automata," by Matthew David Surridge, from BCS #10
The Prodigy scampered forward at once and sat before the pipe organ’s keyboards. Kreisler was with him. Together they began to play, calling the automata back to their city. Just as we had planned. And I, I ran after the Clockwork King, driven, as ever, by the thought of Olympia. For I had more that I would know.
'Twas Abigail who answered, standing some way across the deck. It sounded like the entire crew took a collective breath at the sight of her. Water streamed from her now ill-fitting gown. It seemed as though she was coming apart, becoming water as she crossed to us. Through corset and skirt, it drenched her.
Audio Fiction Podcast 044
"And Blow Them at the Moon," by Marie Brennan, from BCS #50
A church grim like Magrat could taste death, scent it on the air, feel it in the marrow of her bones. Every mortal carried a little bit; death was always a possibility, from accident or disease. But sometimes the possibility grew stronger, closer, when a man stood at a fork in the road, then chose the path that led toward peril.
From the Archives:
"Kreisler's Automata," by Matthew David Surridge, from BCS #10
The Prodigy scampered forward at once and sat before the pipe organ’s keyboards. Kreisler was with him. Together they began to play, calling the automata back to their city. Just as we had planned. And I, I ran after the Clockwork King, driven, as ever, by the thought of Olympia. For I had more that I would know.
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
HUB: UPDATE
Issue 128
Fiction
The Traveller by Stephen Ellis
Features
Why You Should Read Clive Barker
Reviews
Dante's Journey
Human Centipede (First Sequence)
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
DAILY SCIENCE FICTION
Original science fiction and fantasy emailed to you every weekday
An Adventure in the Antiquities Trade
by Jeff Hecht
The flimsy blue paper was faded, its edges rough where a dull paper cutter had slit the seals. I had carefully unfolded it and slid it into a plastic sheet protector before Mr. James arrived to examine it. I served him English Afternoon tea and settled him in a gently aged leather armchair in the office of my antique document shop before I placed the letter before him.
by Jeff Hecht
The flimsy blue paper was faded, its edges rough where a dull paper cutter had slit the seals. I had carefully unfolded it and slid it into a plastic sheet protector before Mr. James arrived to examine it. I served him English Afternoon tea and settled him in a gently aged leather armchair in the office of my antique document shop before I placed the letter before him.
HUB: UPDATE
Issue 127
Fiction
Murderess Lane by Louise Morgan
Reviews
Halting State
And Another Thing
Halting State
And Another Thing
Feature
Interview: Guy Davis with Richard Whittaker
Interview: Guy Davis with Richard Whittaker
Friday, 27 August 2010
BENEATH CEASELESS SKIES: UPDATE
Win a signed copy of Marie Brennan's new novel--
"And Blow Them at the Moon," by Marie Brennan
A church grim like Margat could taste death, scent it on the air, feel it in the marrow of her bones. Every mortal carried a little bit; death was always a possibility, from accident or disease. But sometimes the possibility grew stronger, closer, when a man stood at a fork in the road, then chose the path that led toward peril.
"Winecask Bellies and Owl Wings," by Liz Coleman
So I made a horse. I made bones of iron and a mane of silk. Tendons of rubber from the king's caravans. I gave it a belly made from a wine vat. Around this I wrapped a skin of black and brown velvet--brindled bars such as no horse had, but that would make a cage to contain its life. I would ride this horse to freedom, away from my prison to the wastes where I’d fly with my sisters on owl wings.
"Eighth Eye," by Erin Cashier, from BCS #49
The spider creeps closer, dragging its meal behind. Moira counts its eyes again. Seven. The spider's the only thing that has reality. It's realer than she is, right now. She's already on her way out--has been since the burns, really. She tries to breathe, but the wrappings are so tight, and the weight on her chest is so heavy.
From the Archives:
"The Five Days of Justice Merriwell," by Stephanie Burgis, from BCS #13
My voice sounds thin and choked when I speak. "Let the soldiers choose for themselves," I say. "Let those who wish to flee leave now, in good faith. I will not have them stay to be murdered for a cause they cannot support. But let food and bandages be stockpiled through the day, and close the gates"--I almost say, at nightfall, but it is always night now--"before midnight. We will hold my father’s fortress until the last."
Monday, 23 August 2010
HUB: UPDATE
Issue 126
Fiction
The Nightmare of You and Death in the Room by Adam Christopher
Feature
On Being Scully, and SyFy's new series, Haven
Reviews
Scott Pilgrim vs The World
Changes
Starhyke
On Being Scully, and SyFy's new series, Haven
Reviews
Scott Pilgrim vs The World
Changes
Starhyke
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
THE LORELEI SIGNAL: UPDATE
When the Dead Lands erupt with Undularnia’s ancient enemies, the Sentinel does not rise to combat. Can a lovelorn girl manage to wake him and save her people?
Maddy's entire life has been cursed by fire. Her parents were killed by it. Her body and heart have been scarred by it. And now her village has gone up in flames and Maddy is being accused of wielding, through witchcraft, the one thing she hates most. What happens when you hide from the fire in your heart? And what happens when you finally embrace it?
When Hamrick becomes involved with a young woman - he fails to see the danger she brings
A whore and a Hestian virgin find out they’ve more in common than they think, when their shadows cross in ancient Ionia.
When you think to call in old favors in seeking vengeance - be sure you don't ask for more than is owed.
Cadida's in trouble again. But then, when is Cadida not in trouble? Captured by raiders, she's thrown into a cave to be eaten by demon. Or is it a demon?
Sometimes even a modern princess needs a little saving.
SORCEROUS SIGNALS: UPDATE
Matters of conscience can weigh heavily on a person - particularly when there is family and a familiar involved.
Everything has a cost and a consequence - the true cost of magic is sometimes only apparent when the magic is gone.
Marjan has always known Irascible, the dragon she is the exercise rider for, hated her. Now she has to actually race him in the biggest race of the season. Will she be able to control enough to make it though the race. To heck with winning -- surviving is the more important goal.
Innates are those who have a specific inborn magical talent - and they are hunted and 'quieted'. Ryal is a mage who assists in hunting these fugitives. However, when he meets a powerful innate, mind to mind - he finds he must make a decision to reveal himself as an innate and be quieted or let this person continue killing others. It is a decision that must be made in a split second.
When revolt brings a disgraced relative of the Emperor back to his home, the body guard of his spoiled daughter learns just how much danger can be hidden by beauty.
A Noble Fir tree is horrified to find himself uprooted -- only to discover he's now human and must help Ann-Marie on her quest.
The King Therein Resides - Thomas Canfield
Monday, 16 August 2010
ABSENT WILLOW REVIEW: UPDATE
Under Ravenswing by Lucy Suitor Holt
The Invader by J. Westlake
In The Belly of the Viridian Whale by Sean L. Patterson
Blade by Anne Petty
A Sea of Dust and Stone by Marie Fleming
HUB: UPDATE
Issue 125
Fiction
Jump by Jennifer Williams
Reviews
Predators
Hawkmoon: The Mad God's Amulet
Predators
Hawkmoon: The Mad God's Amulet
Feature
Life In The Shadows: Joan De La Haye
Life In The Shadows: Joan De La Haye
Thursday, 12 August 2010
BENEATH CEASELESS SKIES: UPDATE
Issues now available in the Amazon Kindle Store
"Eighth Eye," by Erin Cashier
The spider creeps closer, dragging its meal behind. Moira counts its eyes again. Seven. The spider's the only thing that has reality. It's realer than she is, right now. She's already on her way out--has been since the burns, really. She tries to breathe, but the wrappings are so tight, and the weight on her chest is so heavy.
The spider creeps closer, dragging its meal behind. Moira counts its eyes again. Seven. The spider's the only thing that has reality. It's realer than she is, right now. She's already on her way out--has been since the burns, really. She tries to breathe, but the wrappings are so tight, and the weight on her chest is so heavy.
"The Book of Autumn," by Rachael Acks
They thought of it as a game, these dusty old men. Tease the dim, pretty little poppet with bits of magic to keep her dazzled and quiet. They’d never realized how much I had actually understood until I’d raised my head from my work and pulled back my hair so they could see my eye, see that I’d received the curse of knowledge. Then they were frightened, and rightly so.
Audio Fiction Podcast 042
"Prashkina's Fire," by Vylar Kaftan, from BCS #48
The nightmares had mostly stopped now, and my face only ached on hot days. I never looked at myself in the stream, so I wasn't sure what color the scars were, but my fingertips told me the skin was tough and dead. As for the rest, once I washed myself out with lemon juice, I just went on with my rituals in the temple, because someone had to. I tried not to remember. Not to let it rule me. But now that he was at the temple too, I felt a little safer.
From the Archives:
"The Puzzle Box," by Chris Tissell, from BCS #25
“You?” I stood, furious, and as I did the red brazier-light glinted on something behind the throne that I could not see. “Did you not have enough of father’s blessings while he lived? He gave you gifts, and horses, and talked of the great kingdom you would inherit. Meanwhile I sat in your shadow and the heap of your scorn. No, brother. For this once I will have something that you have not had first.”
They thought of it as a game, these dusty old men. Tease the dim, pretty little poppet with bits of magic to keep her dazzled and quiet. They’d never realized how much I had actually understood until I’d raised my head from my work and pulled back my hair so they could see my eye, see that I’d received the curse of knowledge. Then they were frightened, and rightly so.
Audio Fiction Podcast 042
"Prashkina's Fire," by Vylar Kaftan, from BCS #48
The nightmares had mostly stopped now, and my face only ached on hot days. I never looked at myself in the stream, so I wasn't sure what color the scars were, but my fingertips told me the skin was tough and dead. As for the rest, once I washed myself out with lemon juice, I just went on with my rituals in the temple, because someone had to. I tried not to remember. Not to let it rule me. But now that he was at the temple too, I felt a little safer.
From the Archives:
"The Puzzle Box," by Chris Tissell, from BCS #25
“You?” I stood, furious, and as I did the red brazier-light glinted on something behind the throne that I could not see. “Did you not have enough of father’s blessings while he lived? He gave you gifts, and horses, and talked of the great kingdom you would inherit. Meanwhile I sat in your shadow and the heap of your scorn. No, brother. For this once I will have something that you have not had first.”
Friday, 6 August 2010
A FLY IN AMBER: UPDATE
Stranger’s Child by Anna Schwind
The Capture of Snake-Eyed Sue by David Washburn
Music of a Family Man by Gwen Veazey
Rainbow’s End by Aubrie Dionne
Seeds by M.M. Bergstrom
Wagon Wheels by Angelina Morris
APHELION: EXTRA UPDATE
A new short story has been added to the current issue of Aphelion:
The Sound of Apples By Koos Kombuis
Desmond awoke with the extremely uncomfortable feeling that everything was spinning -- not just the room, but the very earth beneath his feet. And that was just the beginning...
Wednesday, 4 August 2010
APHELION: UPDATE
The Navigator By Mark Ward
He had been a farmer, until the spider plague drove him from his land. Now a stranger wanted him to set sail on a mad voyage to the deepest waters known to man.
My Salieri Complex By Marina Julia Neary
Kemp had grown up sickly, an outcast, but had become a star among the students at University College in Victorian London. Then Griffin arrived, and made him seem almost ordinary -- Griffin and his strange, secret project.
The Way of Children By Kristen Lee Knapp
The war was not going well. The sorcery used by the invading Azbeki army, fueled by the lives of children, was too powerful. Mutan had to make a choice...
The mender had been given an impossible task: heal the fractured mind of the vicious Tyrant, or die.Homer and The Goddess By Cary Semar
The poet and storyteller Homer had a few things to learn about the importance of pleasing his audience. For example, dismissing the existence of the Gods was a Very Bad Idea.
Terra Incognita By E.S. Strout
They were trying to bend time as a way around the impossibility of moving faster than light. The side effects were...interesting.
Shift / Change By Roland Allnach
The new guy working the night shift at the morgue called himself John Smith. His reasons for being there were a little complicated -- and related to the obscene side business run by the other employees. *** Contains adult situations ***
A World of Good By Kevin Gordon
The Large Hadron Collider had unleashed something that turned Europe into a firestorm that was consuming the world's oxygen far faster than natural processes could restore it. For the rest of the world, all that was left was survival, one day at a time.
The Edge of Tomorrow By Bruce Memblatt
The heart attack had killed Justin Clarke, for a minute or so. When he came back, his view of reality was ... different.
Sealed Away By Philip Roberts
Bill was working another long, cold night shift at the courier company when he found the unlabeled package. He didn't think much about it (although it was strangely warm) until it started to whisper to him.
Awakening By Roderick D. Turner
Jack's best ideas came to him in dreams. They made him the top man at the small advertising agency. But lately, the dreams had started to overlap with his real world.
How Monsters Are Made By Jack Pettie
Dr. Waters had been working with Victor for months, trying to ease the effects of the still-secret childhood trauma that had haunted him for most of his life. But today, she would learn more than she ever wanted to know about him.
Jenny Ogiwara and the AntiFems By Gary W. Feather
Captain Jenny Ogiwara and her band of mercenaries -- the best of Gomez's Gals -- had been sent in to deal with an AntiFem takeover of a mining town on the moon of a gas giant in the Miranda system. As always, the job was harder than the brass expected.
Immortality Bites By Ray Prew
Living forever was no guarantee of happiness. In fact, Tim Adler found it to be complicated and sad -- at least every time he had to leave a family behind, or watch them die.
In The Icehouse By Dave Weaver
The ice core samples taken at the Antarctic research station provided vital evidence in the climate change debate. Unfortunately, it contradicted what the science team had been sent to prove. Now John Mathers had a choice to make between truth and survival.
http://www.aphelion-webzine.com/
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
AURORA WOLF: UPDATE
Mermaid Silk by Jamie Simo
Spider Hunt by Kenneth Yu
A Sea-Fairy Tale by Steven R. Southard
My Little Green Problem by Agnes Cadieux
Skarthonian Consequences by Timothy P. Remp
Agony of Lost Souls by Opal Edgar
Monday, 2 August 2010
ABYSS AND APEX: UPDATE
Poetry
Frank The Lamp by Rich Ives
Kafka On Vacation by Karen Greenbaum-Maya
Leaving Evolution by Shivani Sivagurunathan
Tiamat by Joshua Gage
Frank The Lamp by Rich Ives
Kafka On Vacation by Karen Greenbaum-Maya
Leaving Evolution by Shivani Sivagurunathan
Tiamat by Joshua Gage
Saturday, 31 July 2010
RAY GUN REVIVAL: UPDATE
Issue 56
Dark Encounter
by James Hartley
The Battle Over Procyon
by James Coughtrey
The Green Planet
by Gordon Ross Lanser
Lifeline
by T.M. Hunter
The Vnimajici
by Caleb Jordan Schulz
Checker
by J.D. Williams
Of Machinery and Sea Life
by Pete Carter
JUPITER: UPDATE
Issue 29
July 2010
Features fiction from:
Rosie Oliver
Emma Knight
Mike Wood
Nigel Fisher
James Lecky
Cover art by Greg Hughes.
Friday, 30 July 2010
BENEATH CEASELESS SKIES: UPDATE
"Prashkina's Fire," by Vylar Kaftan
The nightmares had mostly stopped now, and my face only ached on hot days. I never looked at myself in the stream, so I wasn't sure what color the scars were, but my fingertips told me the skin was tough and dead. As for the rest, once I washed myself out with lemon juice, I just went on with my rituals in the temple, because someone had to. I tried not to remember.
The nightmares had mostly stopped now, and my face only ached on hot days. I never looked at myself in the stream, so I wasn't sure what color the scars were, but my fingertips told me the skin was tough and dead. As for the rest, once I washed myself out with lemon juice, I just went on with my rituals in the temple, because someone had to. I tried not to remember.
"The Shades of Morgana," by Dean Wells
Sully could practically feel her glance brushing along his skin like silky smooth lips. It could, more to the point, the thing inside him, exploiting his senses as if they were its own. She stood and stretched, then strolled to the doors of carved tulgey wood that opened into the mews outside. Sully caught her fragrance, the scent of her feminine places, a smell of spice and rich dark petals of bloodleaf. "Sabrina? Don’t get too close."
BCS Audio Fiction Podcasts
The BCS Audio Fiction Podcasts will be taking a short hiatus in July, but they will return in August with audio stories by Vylar Kaftan, Erin Cashier, and more.
From the Archives:
"Blighted Heart," by Aliette de Bodard, from BCS #22
I felt the first cut like a violation. Pain burst in my chest, would not cease. I screamed and screamed until my voice was raw. No. No. I never asked for this! I saw a priest lift out a bloody, pulsating thing dizzyingly high above me, and a sensation of emptiness spread from the hole in my chest and swallowed me.
Sully could practically feel her glance brushing along his skin like silky smooth lips. It could, more to the point, the thing inside him, exploiting his senses as if they were its own. She stood and stretched, then strolled to the doors of carved tulgey wood that opened into the mews outside. Sully caught her fragrance, the scent of her feminine places, a smell of spice and rich dark petals of bloodleaf. "Sabrina? Don’t get too close."
BCS Audio Fiction Podcasts
The BCS Audio Fiction Podcasts will be taking a short hiatus in July, but they will return in August with audio stories by Vylar Kaftan, Erin Cashier, and more.
From the Archives:
"Blighted Heart," by Aliette de Bodard, from BCS #22
I felt the first cut like a violation. Pain burst in my chest, would not cease. I screamed and screamed until my voice was raw. No. No. I never asked for this! I saw a priest lift out a bloody, pulsating thing dizzyingly high above me, and a sensation of emptiness spread from the hole in my chest and swallowed me.
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