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"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.”
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