There is a man at the door.
I watched him walk up the garden path from the vantage point in my living room, before he passed out of sight as he reached the front door. He kept his gaze forward as he journeyed through the garden, so I feel confident that he didn’t spot me as I watched his approach. He is wearing a long dark trench coat, tied up tight at the waist and with the collars turned up, and his hands are thrust into deep pockets. He completes his look with a short dark hat, tilted slightly forward to cover the upper part of his face. It gives him the look of a private detective from a noir film of yesteryear. I know for a fact that I have never seen this man before in my life.
The Wheel of the World – Adam Fout
Hawkflame stood on the muddy bank of the great Castandar river, he and his father, the Fabricator, gazing up at the Wheel of the World, and behind them was a hovercart as large as a boat, and in the hovercart was the world’s death.
Continue reading “The Wheel of the World – Adam Fout”The Wall – Bill McGuire
Squad Commander Fraser shifted his machine pistol onto the other shoulder and squinted into the low-hanging sun. The hummocky terrain beyond the wall was baked hard, any remaining grass withered white, bouncing the harsh rays into his eyes. Little by little the barren zone merged into scrubby brush, dessicated and barely alive, which stretched as far as the eye could see. They’d been told to expect quite a crowd later in the morning, spotted heading their way by the security drones the previous evening. So far he’d seen not a soul.
Continue reading “The Wall – Bill McGuire”The M6 Southbound – Hannah McIntyre
Rain pours into the dry soil, trickling in through the crevices. Dry roots, hiding like ants in the ground, now burgeon with moisture. Upon my trunk, yellow blooms of fungi quiver as beads of water form on their flat tops. Amongst the irregular vibrations of the road traffic, I feel the familiar bubbling of cells as we expand symbiotically. For days I have been wilting with thirst, but as water disperses throughout me, I feel suppleness return to even the spindliest of branches. I sway alongside my sparse brethren in the man-made gusts of the motorway.
Continue reading “The M6 Southbound – Hannah McIntyre”A Song to a Micronaut – Ethan Campbell
Grandfather, a frequent babbler now, turned to me with that distant look in his eyes. A proselytizer with no certain direction, he reached aimlessly for the ear of an ear. He said:
Continue reading “A Song to a Micronaut – Ethan Campbell”Stained – Corinna Underwood
The fading summer sun struggled through the murky leaded panes. In its wake, dust-plankton drifted languorously down to the sticky linoleum floor. The only sound was the low tick of the old-school clock that hung above the bar. The doors were unlocked, but no patrons had arrived yet. It had been like this for the last eighteen months. Andy smiled. Since his father died last spring, the young man had run off most of the regulars and encouraged a smaller group made up of the homeless, the unemployed, the divorced, and the divorcing; those who might not wash or change their clothes daily; those who had been forgotten; those who drank to forget. He’d taken care of them one by one.
Continue reading “Stained – Corinna Underwood”Shrine of Solarious – Alan J Wahnefried
Fargas lay on a ridge, terrified.
What is happening? he thought. I am a good man. I pay my taxes to the prince and levy to the priests when I must. I treat people well, most of the time. Is the world ending? Priests claim the world will end in fire. I wish a priest were here to tell me what to do. I’m on common land. No prince, priest, or freeholder could fault me for being here.
Continue reading “Shrine of Solarious – Alan J Wahnefried”Dreamweaver – Ali Z Ahmed
WARNING: once you have let the machine enter your mind, there is no going back.
This discretionary label was added to the DreamWeaver several years after it had been commercial. At first, people were unaware of its true consequences, rather ignorant of its ethical and moral significance, and more concerned of its usage and of course, its application.
Continue reading “Dreamweaver – Ali Z Ahmed”Day 28 – Richard Berry
It’s not easy being the only ninja in Kirkby in Ashfield.
People expect. People expect me to uphold the highest traditions of the Japanese medieval spy assassins. But there are certain everyday little practical difficulties associated with my creed.
Example.
Continue reading “Day 28 – Richard Berry”Broken Mirror, Bleeding Hand – Andrew Senior
Continue reading “Broken Mirror, Bleeding Hand – Andrew Senior”One day he was in high glee, for he had made a looking-glass which possessed this peculiarity….The most beautiful landscapes, when seen in it, looked only like crooked spinach, and even handsome people became repulsive….
From The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Anderson
Emerging Worlds 