Short Fiction
How We Fly by Lisa A. Koosis
Here's where we first meet: in a room with moss green recliners and faded Monet reproductions on cinderblock walls, a scatter of ancient magazines on low tables, IV poles and wheelchairs. I notice her first, maybe because she's so vibrant and young amid men and women with colorless hair and exposed wrists, skin so thin it might be vellum. Dressed in baggy denim overalls and a yellow tee-shirt, the girl sits cross-legged in the recliner, a magazine open in her lap. A tube winds from beneath her sleeve to a bag hanging on the IV pole beside her.
My first thought: she doesn’t look like someone who's been told she’s going to die.
The Tortuous Path by Bud Sparhawk
What he was doing was strictly against the rules. Acolytes were not supposed to fraternize with the passengers, officers, or, most especially, crewmen.
That’s what made it so exciting to break the rules.
Deutoroi by Samantha Henderson
They're coming, rumbled the oak.
Oh, damn you, she thought. She usually avoided talking to the trees. It inched her that much further towards the madness that took her mother in the end. Tell me something I don't know.
There are three. Did you know that? said the oak, taking her at her word.
Night Of The Manticore by Tony Pi
The guests, likewise taken by my idea, clamoured for Mason to show his contributions to the Grand Expo. At first, Mason turned beet-red under the barrage of pleas, but slowly, the spirit of competition overtook him. He smirked and called out to the Hespereian alchemist across from me.
"What do you say, Fowler? Shall we show them a true manticore?"
How We Fly by Lisa A. Koosis
Here's where we first meet: in a room with moss green recliners and faded Monet reproductions on cinderblock walls, a scatter of ancient magazines on low tables, IV poles and wheelchairs. I notice her first, maybe because she's so vibrant and young amid men and women with colorless hair and exposed wrists, skin so thin it might be vellum. Dressed in baggy denim overalls and a yellow tee-shirt, the girl sits cross-legged in the recliner, a magazine open in her lap. A tube winds from beneath her sleeve to a bag hanging on the IV pole beside her.
My first thought: she doesn’t look like someone who's been told she’s going to die.
The Tortuous Path by Bud Sparhawk
What he was doing was strictly against the rules. Acolytes were not supposed to fraternize with the passengers, officers, or, most especially, crewmen.
That’s what made it so exciting to break the rules.
Deutoroi by Samantha Henderson
They're coming, rumbled the oak.
Oh, damn you, she thought. She usually avoided talking to the trees. It inched her that much further towards the madness that took her mother in the end. Tell me something I don't know.
There are three. Did you know that? said the oak, taking her at her word.
Night Of The Manticore by Tony Pi
The guests, likewise taken by my idea, clamoured for Mason to show his contributions to the Grand Expo. At first, Mason turned beet-red under the barrage of pleas, but slowly, the spirit of competition overtook him. He smirked and called out to the Hespereian alchemist across from me.
"What do you say, Fowler? Shall we show them a true manticore?"
The Wishing Stone by Edward Greaves
"This stone could work miracles!" Arrod stared at the scintillating gem in his fingers.
"It better," said Lady Damaske. "For the cost, I better not be disappointed."
"Have I yet failed you?" he replied.
"This stone could work miracles!" Arrod stared at the scintillating gem in his fingers.
"It better," said Lady Damaske. "For the cost, I better not be disappointed."
"Have I yet failed you?" he replied.
Flash Fiction
Anything Chocolate by Caren Gussoff
When White Roses Freeze by Amy Power Jansen
Poetry
Changeling by Mary W. Jensen
Small by Richard Schiffman
Uttu's Garden by Gwendolyn Clare
Waiting by WC Roberts
My Wife by Albert Melear
Anything Chocolate by Caren Gussoff
When White Roses Freeze by Amy Power Jansen
Poetry
Changeling by Mary W. Jensen
Small by Richard Schiffman
Uttu's Garden by Gwendolyn Clare
Waiting by WC Roberts
My Wife by Albert Melear
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