Far Fetched Fables

“Too Poor to Sin” by H.L. Fullerton(Originally published in Mysterion.)Grandfather squandered our family's fortune on forgiveness, forcing Father to enlist in the Legion and serve the angels. This was before he met Mother and they had me, though the angels' war still rages. Father doesn't say much about his years of service, except that it would've bankrupted us had he bought an honorable discharge. Instead he quit, kept his wages and is banking on God's leniency. He says he amassed those sins in God's name -- he only killed those the angels ordered him to -- and that should count for something, despite the angels' claim that sin belongs solely to the sinner. Father says God knows you can't climb to heaven without breaking a few bones.H.L. Fullerton writes fiction — mostly speculative, occasionally about angels — which is sometimes published in places such as Lackington's, Daily Science Fiction, and Tales to Terrify. On Twitter as @ByHLFullerton.About the Narrator:Devin Martin is just starting out as a writer, editor, and narrator. He almost had a career teaching robots how to kill, but escaped at the last moment. He lives with his brilliant scientist of a spouse and they call Cardiff their home. He almost never tweets @devinxmartin. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“Penelope's Song” by Samuel Marzioli(Originally published in The Third Spectral Book of Horror Stories.)Penelope gazed through her bedroom window, mesmerized by the motion of the night. Flowers trembled, grass ruffled and trees swayed, flailing their branches. The sight of it unsettled her. In fifteen years she hadn’t learned much about the world, but she did know this: when the wind was absent like it was tonight, a garden wasn’t supposed to move an inch. It could only mean one thing; the Gnasher had returned.Samuel Marzioli is an Italian-Filipino writer of mostly dark fiction. His work has appeared in numerous publications and podcasts, including The Best of Apex Magazine (2016), Shock Totem, Orson Scott Card's InterGalactic Medicine Show, and Pseudopod. For more information about his current projects, check out his blog at marzioli.blogspot.com.About the Narrator:Margaret Essex lives “the good life” on a small piece of rural New South Wales, Australia, with an amazing man, a couple of pets, all the usual biting and stinging critters that make great horror stories for their visitors, and several rambunctious wombats." See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“Avarice” by Michael Rimar(Originally published in Darwin's Evolutions.)Shadow blocked the glare of Uttum’s twin suns. Saleem looked up at the source, a man dressed in robes pale as bleached bone.“Offering for the poor?” Saleem kept his tone weak and pitiful, offering his wicker basket to the stranger.“I have more than offerings for you, my young friend.” The stranger crouched down to look Saleem face to face. Eyes green as palm fronds regarded him with benevolence. Strands of ebony hair poked from underneath a spotless turban.Saleem tensed. Anyone who called him friend usually wasn’t. Yet he didn’t run. Anyone foolish enough to run in the heat brought attention, and in the City attention equaled guilt. “Have I offended you in some manner, Isha?” He hoped to flatter the stranger by using the formal address.“Isha?” The man flashed straight white teeth and looked about as if to see no one overheard. “You may call me Hendari. I am told I should talk to you.”Saleem’s eyebrows rose a fraction. Hendari. The god of prosperity. Only the wealthy and powerful were so bold to name their children after gods. “What would a great man need of a child beggar?”“Is this part of the bartering?” Hendari’s green eyes glistened with mirth. “You are less a child, and more than a beggar. I know who it is I need, and that is you.”Michael Rimar has matured. He no longer writes witty bios with clever puns. He has stopped comparing his two daughters to pets, especially after the cease and desist order. He sees nothing funny about writing science fiction, fantasy, and some horror, although many of his stories might be considered humorous, and purposefully humorous, not this-is-so-bad-it’s-funny kind of humorous. As proof, his story, A Bunny Hug for Karl, was nominated for the 2014 Prix Aurora for the best in Canadian Science Fiction and Fantasy. He is an associate publisher of Bundoran Press and co-editor of their anthology Second Contacts, which was awarded the 2016 Aurora for Best Related Work. He has also co-edited Lazarus Risen, nominated for the 2017 Aurora for Best Related Work. Mike has been published in Orson Scott Card’s InterGalactic Medicine Show, Writers of the Future XXI, and On Spec, all serious publicationsdespite having the occasional humorous story. If you want to learn more about Mike visit mikerimar.com. Seriously.About the Narrator:Growing up, everyone told Christopher Herron that he couldn't read books for a living, it simply wasn't a real job. Always one to have the last laugh, however, he decided to start down the long road of becoming a professional narrator. To help him on his way, he created the youtube channel Tall Tale TV, where he hones his skills by narrating several short stories each week for authors looking to collaborate. He can be found at TallTaleTV.com, Facebook and Twitter. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“In the Late December” by Greg van Eekhout(Originally published in Strange Horizons.)Here's a secret of the North Pole: Santa powders his hands with talc before donning his thick red mittens.It is a small secret, true, but some would give anything to steal even that. A secret is a detail, and here in the late December, a detail is as precious as a true name.Santa, a red exclamation in a white world, walks the reindeer line, stroking sugar-and-cinnamon fur. The reindeer shiver and snort and stamp their hooves, the lines connecting them to the parcel-laden sleigh jingling. Santa looks over to his candy-brick castle and waves good-bye, but no one stands in the doorway to wave back. With a sigh, he climbs onto the sleigh's driver's seat, the bench creaking beneath his weight. He pauses, holding the smooth and supple leather reins, and considers how to start the team. Onward? A-heya? Giddyup? Ho-ho? No, he's already used those. He makes a point of uttering a different word to inaugurate every outing, because he's been doing this for a long time, and if he didn't deliberately insert some bit of novelty into the procedure, he fears his jolly round head might well explode. That is another detail.Then he has it. He snaps his fingers (no mean feat in his mittens) and with a brisk snap of the reins, he shouts, "Zorxa!"Zorxa was a great emperor whose realm once encompassed sixteen degrees of the Curvature, and though his despotic rule made him a natural enemy, Zorxa knew how to accept a gift as well as anyone.Greg van Eekhout lives in San Diego with his astronomy/physics professor wife and two dogs. He used to develop educational software for a living, but now writes full time, which he enjoys much better. His novels range from adult science fiction and fantasy to middle grade and include The Norse Code, the California Bones trilogy, Kid vs. Squid, and The Boy at the End of the World. His next book, a middle-grade novel about dogs on a spaceship, is due out in Fall 2018. You can find more about him at his website: writingandsnacks.com.About the Narrator:Eric Luke is the screenwriter of the Joe Dante film Explorers, which is currently in development as a remake; has written for the comic books Ghost and Wonder Woman; and wrote and directed the Not Quite Human films for Disney TV. His current project, Interference (a meta horror audiobook about an audiobook... that kills), is a bestseller on Audible.com. His website for creative projects is Quillhammer.com. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“M” by Russell Hemmell(Originally published in Not One of Us.)We look like them, Christian thought, admiring the fresco in the charnel house and its ghastly figures, scary and eerily beautiful. He adjusted the heavy cloak over his shoulders. The evening was damp and cold, and he was tired after a whole day on the move. But he could not avoid that feeling of elation. He had followed her for too long, and days had become months. Years. Winters, summers, clear starry nights of patient stalking. Across desolate lands and overcrowded cities, poverty and luxury, holy retreats and dangerous havens. And now he was back to square one, where all had started. Incidentally, his birthplace, that glittering Paris so cherished and hated. Isn’t fate... ironic? Because God, for sure, has no business here. Or has He? Christian was sure about one thing, though: the place he was standing on at that precise moment was not a surprise. Where else could that creature ever find a better sanctuary? He kneeled down, covering his face with a perfumed handkerchief. The Cemetery of the Innocents, also known as Les Champeaux, was the same infamous location it had been since centuries, since Roman times. The mass graves were yet to come, and so the Black Death, and war, but the character of the place and its morbid allure were already there, near that market of Les Halles where they had remained for centuries. Conquerors and lords had passed by and ruled, different yet equally unflinching in front of massacres, diseases, famine and blood. Nationality didn’t matter a lot in the business of taking lives. Even less in trading them. The market stopped during the night, but business was florid as usual—with some of its unique perks for the Court of Miracles’ night owls. Christian had arrived just after closing and walked across the walled area, passing the fountain and heading toward the charnel houses. Quietly, he had found a suitable observation point and, hidden beneath the Danse Macabre fresco, had begun waiting for what he knew in advance would follow. He didn’t have to wait for long.Russell Hemmell is a statistician and social scientist from the U.K, passionate about astrophysics and speculative fiction. Stories in PerihelionSF, SQ Mag, and others. Russell can be found online at earthianhivemind.net and on Twitter via @SPBianchini.About the Narrator:Geoffrey Welchman writes, produces, and voices The Reigning Lunatic podcast, a medieval sitcom (and 2016 Parsec Awards finalist). He lives in Baltimore, Maryland. You can find him online at geoffreywelchman.com. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“Customer Service Hobgoblin” by Paul R. Hardy(Originally published in Unidentified Funny Objects 5.)Beeep."Good morning, you're through to Robin. How may I receive your prayer?""Oh. Hello? My name is Bishop Augusto de Figueroa. Am I speaking to God?""No, sir, my name's Robin. How can I --""Well, young man, I wanted to talk to God. You see it's very important that I speak to him.""Yes, of course, sir. You've come through on the Methodist line, is that --""No, no, no, this is wrong. I am Catholic.""Well, sir, it would help if you chose the Catholic line to start with, but I can --""Are you a saint?""No, sir. I just work here. But if it's not a Methodist prayer then I need to --""If you're not a saint then I don't need to talk to you.""Sir, in any case you're not going to be able to talk to God. That's not how it works.""Good afternoon, you’re through to Paul R. Hardy’s biography. Please listen carefully to the following options: For a humorous anecdote about his employment history, press 1. For a tedious list of his writing credits, press 2. For a heartwarming glimpse of his personal life, press 3. To listen to these options again, press" -- [beep]"You pressed 1. Paul weathered the economic crash of 2008 by working at a call centre for the London Congestion Charge, a fact which may seem relevant as you listen to the story. Unless you’ve ever had to pay the Congestion Charge, in which case you won’t be listening any further because you’ll have already thrown your device at the wall in a fit of" -- [beep]"You pressed 2. Paul’s short stories have appeared in both the fifth and sixth editions of the Unidentified Funny Objects anthology, and will also be seen in Diabolical Plots in about a year or so -- unless you’re on an archive binge in 2065, in which case all of this happened a long time ago and the nurse will be along with your tea in just a minute, smiling indulgently at your addiction to obsolete" -- [beep]"You pressed 3. Paul lives in the English Midlands and lives almost entirely on home-baked cakes and earl grey tea. He recently survived open heart surgery, which left him with a persistent ticking noise emanating from his chest and a rib cage held together by titanium wire. He has therefore given up any hope of passing through airport security without setting off a major" -- [click, brrr]About the Narrator:Rish Outfield is a writer, voice actor, and audiobook narrator. He can be heard co-hosting the Dunesteef Audio Fiction Magazine and That Gets My Goat podcasts, where he and Bigg Anklevich entertainingly waste much of their time. He also features his own stories on the Rish Outcast podcast. He once got a job because of his Sean Connery impersonation... but has lost two due to his Samuel L. Jackson impression. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“The Man Who Did Nothing” by Karen Traviss(Originally published in The Year's Best Fantasy & Horror: Seventeenth Annual Collection.)Hursley Rise, May 2There was a boy – five, maybe six – sitting on half a discarded mattress by the kerb as Jeff drove down the road. At first he thought the child was trying to open a bottle of pop, but the closer he got, the better he could see that the boy was making a petrol bomb.Jeff slowed to a crawl and then stopped. He didn't dare switch the engine off, not here. A daffodil nodded in the grass at the side of the road and the whine of a power-drill competed intermittently with music throbbing from an open window. The normality didn't reassure him; he opened the car window about six inches.The child was trying to thread some rags into the neck of a beer bottle, pausing every so often to hold the bottle up to the light, sigh, and resume his task of working the rag into the neck of the bottle with his index finger.For a moment Jeff thought about getting out and taking the thing from him. Then an older boy in the latest Manchester United tracksuit walked up to the kid and crouched over him, like a protective elder brother, and took the bottle gently from him. He examined the wick, pushed it further into the bottle and handed it back to the kid.That was how you did it. Then both boys looked up at Jeff, as if moving as one."Antichrist! Fuckin' antichrist!" they shouted. And the bottle – unlit, mercifully – arced and crashed onto the road just short of the driver's door. Both boys ran back up the road, not looking back.Karen Traviss is the author of a dozen New York Times bestsellers, and her critically-acclaimed Wess’har books have been finalists five times for the Campbell and Philip K. Dick awards. Her latest novels, Going Grey and Black Run, are military thrillers set in the present day. Her comics work with Batman, Gears of War, and G.I. Joe has earned her a broad range of fans, and she also writes games. A former defence correspondent, newspaper reporter, and TV journalist, she lives in Wiltshire, England. You can find information on her works at karentraviss.com.About the Narrator:Ron Jon is a writer, narrator, and singer. He has written and published children’s books, scripts and screenplays for animation and live action, and musical lyrics and libretti. He is a student of strange phenomena/parapsychology, horror, and children’s literature. Ron Jon writes short weird fiction under the name ‘the spectre collector’. See his disturbing videos and hear more of his work on ‘the spectre collector’ blog. Download his disturbing albums on ‘the spectre collector’ Bandcamp site. His latest recordings are 'the car in the woods' and 'the stationmaster’s cottage'. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“Psychopomps” by Judith Field (Originally published in The Colored Lens, Summer 2014.) Mark’s next door neighbour and business partner Pat kept telling him that power flowed through his veins. He took a breath and closed his eyes, trying to will the power back out again and into the ash wand in his outstretched hand. He pointed it at Pat’s door. A narrow beam of blue light squeezed out of the end and hit the lock. Nothing happened. Sighing, he folded the wand and put it in his pocket. He took out his key and let himself into her house. He heard her moving around in the kitchen, back from sorting out the invasion of reptilian arsonists in a garden in Llandudno the day before, while he had expelled a banshee from a pub in Macclesfield. This morning’s job was to sort out an elderly-care home with a spirit infestation. Mark opened the kitchen door. Pat coughed, wafting her hand at a cloud of green fumes. ‘Damn, they’re still moving,’ she said. Judith Field lives in London. She’s a pharmacist and medical indexer and editor. The daughter of writers, she learned how to agonize over fiction submissions at her mother’s (and father’s) knee. In 2009, she made a New Year resolution to start writing and get published within the year. Pretty soon she realized how unrealistic that was but, in fact, it worked because she got a slot to write a weekly column in a local paper shortly before the end of the year. It ran for a several years and she still writes occasional feature articles for the paper. Her non-fiction articles have appeared in genealogy and general interest magazines. Her fiction, mainly speculative, has appeared in a variety of publications in the USA, UK, and Australia. She speaks five languages and can say, “Please publish this story” in all of them. When not writing she works at the day job, studies for a Masters in English, sings, and swims. She is Science Fiction Editor at Red Sun Magazine. You can find her work here. About the Narrator: Matt Dovey is very tall and very English and most likely drinking a cup of tea right now. He has a scar on his arm that he can't remember getting, but a terrible darkness floods his mind when he considers it. He now lives in a quiet market town in rural England with his wife and three children, and despite being a writer, he still hasn't found the right words to properly express the delight and joy he finds in this wonderful arrangement. His surname rhymes with "Dopey", but any other similarities to the dwarf are purely coincidental. He is the Golden Pen winner for Writers of the Future Volume 32 (2016), was shortlisted for the James White Award in 2016, and has fiction out and forthcoming all over the place; you can keep up with it at mattdovey.com, or follow along on Facebook and Twitter. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“The Tavern at the Ford” by Dave Smeds (Originally published in Sword and Sorceress XXVIII.) Until that awful night, Azure had always assumed she would live out her entire life in the village. That’s how it had been for generations. Grandpa had shared the history one day while standing with her on the old stone bridge. “There used to be a ford there,” he said, pointing to the willow flats where Coil and Azure liked to play. Grandpa’s great-grandmother Cinnamon had drowned there while crossing the river. Her husband Fleet had built the bridge in her memory, working through his grief by making sure no one else would die that way. Dave Smeds has authored novels, short fiction, comic book scripts, and screenplays in a variety of genres including science fiction, contemporary fantasy, superhero, martial arts, horror, and erotica, but he is particularly at home when writing imaginary-world fantasy, as in his novels The Sorcery Within, The Schemes of Dragons, and the forthcoming The Wizard's Nemesis. He is even more at home with imaginary-world short fiction, which has appeared in magazines such as Realms of Fantasy and anthologies such as Dragons of Light, Sorceries, Enchanted Forests, Return to Avalon, Lace and Blade 1, 3, and 4, and in seventeen volumes of Sword and Sorceress. He lives in the wine country of northern California with his wife and son. About the Narrator: Anthony Babington is a voice in the internet’s head, who looks almost, but not quite, exactly how you expect him to. Having escaped from the sinister forces of Texas, he has retreated to an ingeniously disguised bunker in a secure, undisclosed location in Burnsville, Minnesota. His life goal is to someday annoy someone into letting him voice a part on Escape Pod, but until then, he'd be happy to voice a project for you. yes, you in the checked shirt. Contact him on Google Plus, or on Twitter at @AlephBaker. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“Unraveling” by K.G. Anderson (Originally published in Triangulation: Beneath the Surface.) "Sarah -- he's using you!" My voice rose into the whine my daughter loathed, but I couldn't stop. I pressed the phone to my ear. "You're 16. I absolutely forbid -- " My runaway daughter informed me that she hated me. "Have fun with the old witches," she said, and hung up. I climbed out of the car, slammed the battered door, and slumped against the sun-baked metal. Gradually my heartbeat slowed, but still felt frighteningly uneven. Fail-ure, fail-ure, FAIL-ure, it thumped. K.G. Anderson grew up listening to her elders, many of whom held to the ways of the Old Country. What they talked about — and what they refused to discuss — inspires much of her fiction. You’ll find K.G.’s stories in anthologies such as Second Contacts, The Mammoth Book of Jack the Ripper Stories, Triangulation: Appetites, and Alternative Truths, as well as online at Metaphorosis, Ares Magazine, and Every Day Fiction. K.G. attended the Viable Paradise and Taos Toolbox writing workshops. She currently lives in Seattle, where she works as a journalist and technology writer. You can find out more at writerway.com/fiction. About the Narrator: Fran Carris is whatever she decides to be when she wakes up each morning. She has also been known to be a voice talent, performance artist, and poet, and professional dabbler in other arts that express. You can find her online at misfran.com. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“Mouth of the Jaguar” by Evan Dicken (Originally published in Heroic Fantasy Quarterly #20.) Hummingbird was to be the final sacrifice of the day. The man before her struggled on a raised stone slab, chest heaving as a flock of blood-spattered priests pinned his arms and legs. Sunlight glittered on the Cazonci's obsidian dagger--curved like a jaguar's claw to better hook bone and tear flesh. The crowd around the ziggurat waited, caught in the anxious pause between lightning and thunder. The blade fell, but Hummingbird's gaze was not on the shrieking victim. Above, the sun was white-gold in a sky clear as the eastern sea. Lake Pátzcuaro sparkled in the light, the riot of sedge and cattails along its banks flecked with motes of bright color as wading birds combed the shallows for fish. The breeze shifted, cutting the heavy pall of incense with scents of wood smoke and cooking meat from the city below. Although they had been the enemies of her people for generations, the Tarascans shared much with the Azteca. If not for the guards holding her arms, Hummingbird might have even imagined herself back in Tenochtitlan as it was before the fall. The sacrifice gave a gurgling cough as the Cazonci cut his heart free of its bloody nest of bone. The priests began a slow, twirling dance, but Hummingbird ignored them, her gaze fixed on the sun. She didn't look away even when tears stung her eyes. There was a small pulse of light, quick as a leaf on a bonfire. The crowd roared, and Hummingbird prepared herself. By day, Evan Dicken studies old Japanese maps and crunches data for all manner of fascinating medical research at the Ohio State University. By night, he does neither of these things. His fantasy fiction has most recently appeared in Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Heroic Fantasy Quarterly, and Daily Science Fiction, and he has stories forthcoming from publishers such as Chaosium and Gallery of Curiosities. Feel free to look him up at evandicken.com, where he wastes both his time and yours. "Mouth of the Jaguar" originally appeared in Heroic Fantasy Quarterly #20, and as luck would have it, the fine editors of that magazine recently published another Hummingbird story in their August 2017 issue. About the Narrators: Summer Brooks is a bit of a television addict, and enjoys putting her sci-fi media geek skills to good use in interviewing guests. She has been a co-host for Slice of SciFi from 2005-2009, the co-host for The Babylon Podcast from 2006-2012, and host of Kick-Ass Mystic Ninjas, before returning to Slice of SciFi full time as host and producer in August 2014. She is an avid reader and writer of sci-fi, fantasy, and thrillers, with a handful of publishing credits to her name. Next on her agenda is writing an urban fantasy tale, and a B-movie monster extravaganza. Currently, Summer designs and maintains websites for clients in addition to having fun with the Slice of SciFi websites, and also does voiceover & narrations for Tales to Terrify, StarShip Sofa, and Escape Pod, among others. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Main Story: “Perchance to Dream” by David Morrell (Originally published in Flights: Extreme Visions of Fantasy.) Dr. Baker. Dr. Baker. He came to my office on a Friday afternoon. Tall, slender, and sandy-haired, he had a thin, aristocratic face that might have been handsome if it weren’t so haggard. His eyes looked puffy. Red streaked their whites. I was surprised when I later learned that he was forty. He appeared at least ten years older. He said his name was Jody Cooke – he spelled his last name, emphasizing the final “e” – and when I introduced myself as Dr. Gerald Baker, he frowned. “Baker. We’re both in that nursery rhyme.” “Nursery rhyme?” “The baker, the cook, and the candlestick maker.” “You’ve got it slightly wrong,” I said. “Wrong?” “In the nursery rhyme, it’s the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker.” “Ah, yes, the butcher,” Jody said, his raw eyes looking pained. David Morrell is the author of First Blood, the award-winning novel in which Rambo was created. He holds a Ph.D. in American literature from Penn State and was a professor in the English department at the University of Iowa. His numerous best-selling novels include the classic espionage novel The Brotherhood of the Rose, the basis for the only television mini-series to be broadcast after a Super Bowl. An Edgar and Anthony finalist, an Inkpot, Macavity and Nero recipient, Morrell has three Bram Stoker awards and ITW’s prestigious Thriller Master award. Bouchercon, the world’s largest conference for crime-fiction readers and authors, gave him its Lifetime Achievement award. His work has been translated into 30 languages. Please visit him at davidmorrell.net. About the Narrator: Rish Outfield is a writer, voice actor, and audiobook narrator. He can be heard co-hosting the Dunesteef Audio Fiction Magazine and That Gets My Goat podcasts, where he and Bigg Anklevich entertainingly waste much of their time. He also features his own stories on the Rish Outcast podcast. He once got a job because of his Sean Connery impersonation... but has lost two due to his Samuel L. Jackson impression. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“The Hour of the Rat” by Donald Jacob Uitvlugt (Originally published in Cirsova Magazine #1.) shigururu ya               winter rain nezumi no wataru      a mouse runs koto no ue                  across the koto -- Yosa Buson (1716-1783) Nezumi's heart pounded as she pressed against the wall. She willed herself to be as invisible as the night all around her. She put a hand over her mouth so that the puffs of her breath would not give away her position. Within the estate beyond the wall, a guard approached her position. Nezumi whispered under her breath. "Namo amida butsu. Namo amida butsu..." She used the prayer to keep time. Two hundred repetitions between the passes of the guards as they made their rounds. Not much time to get over the wall. Nezumi shivered. It was going to rain. She didn't know how she knew, but she always knew. There. One hundred. The guard would be at his farthest point away. Nezumi pulled out the rope she had hidden in the folds of her dark kimono. It took tries, but the rock tied to the end finally caught on the tree in the courtyard beyond. Nezumi scrambled over the wall and dropped down into the shadows behind the tree. She heard footsteps on the gravel path and froze. Donald Jacob Uitvlugt lives on neither coast of the United States, but mostly in a haunted memory palace of his own design. His short fiction has appeared in numerous print and online venues, including Cirsova Magazine and Flametree Publishing's Science Fiction anthology. He strives to write what he calls "haiku fiction", stories that are small in scale but big in impact. If you enjoyed "The Hour of the Rat," let him know at haikufiction.blogspot.com or on Twitter as @haikufictiondju. About the Narrator: Deanna Sanchez is a voiceover artist and actress who has performed professionally for 14 years. She has voiced various commercials, industrials, and characters, and specializes in the “sexy voice” of powerful female roles. An avid fan of science fiction since her grandfather gave her a copy of Heinlein’s Tunnel in the Sky when she was 9, she feels greatly privileged to help bring this story to life. While pursuing a voice talent and acting career, Deanna also consults in Geographical Information Systems and develops custom mapping applications for real estate and other industries. Her background in IT management does not prevent her from owning multiple old computers, some with Windows 98 still running. Three-dimensional visualization of spatial data is a favorite pastime, and she has spent many hours translating real-Earth elevation data into unique 3-D worlds. Deanna’s voice over demo can be heard at the Lambert Studios website, an outstanding full service recording studio. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“The Demi-Arcanist's Will” by Jakob Drud (Originally published in The Worlds of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Volume 2.) The cabinet was all but invisible in the fumes, except in the spot where Jarn Dinaris wove his grounding seam into Master Elosivan's seam of transmission. There the metal hissed and glowed in dark purples as they wove the commissioned refrigeration pattern. Jarn's focus on the pattern was so complete that he didn't immediately detect the failure in old Master Elosivan's concentration. He only became aware that something was amiss when a searing whipback knocked the old man down. Deep pain wrenched the old man's kind wrinkles, only to be replaced by a look of utter confusion that made Jarn's own chest hurt as if he'd been the one struck by the whipback. Twenty years of routine kept Jarn from cutting off his grounding seam, which would have resulted in another whipback aimed at himself. He slowly let go of his grounding source and sought a push flow to open the window, venting the stench of molten metal into the city. Jakob Drud lives in Denmark with his wife and children. It's a good life, but his stories are probably more exciting than he is. They've met aliens, lived in the Sun, fought monsters and flown between the stars. They also travel more than he does, and so far they've appeared in magazines in the US, Canada and Australia. About the Narrator: Alex Weinle lives in a cottage just outside Cambridge where he writes science fiction and narrates stories. His new fridge is bigger than the cottage itself, somewhat like the TARDIS but containing far more calories. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Flash Fiction: “The Banshee Behind Beamon's Bakery” by Khalidaah Muhammad-Ali (Originally published in Diabolical Plots #21.) Most nights the alley behind Beamon’s Bakery is just an alley. The street lamp bleeds piss yellow light, casting jagged shadows around the overflowing dumpster and discarded boxes. The walls are tagged with gang signs, claiming territory that was never theirs, yardage, bodies, souls, rights. Some nights a transient clears away the broken glass, the random detritus, to squat for the night. Setting up camp here has its own rewards. The warmth that seeps through the bakery walls and through brick facing chases away the chill, but not the ghosts. This is the drawback, you see. The alley is never as vacant as it may seem at first, never as lonely as one may wish. The price of physical warmth is the chilling of your soul. Khalidaah Muhammad-Ali lives in Houston, Texas, with her family. By day she works as a breast oncology nurse. At all other times, she juggles, none too successfully, the multiple other facets of her very busy life. Khaalidah has been published at or has publications upcoming in Strange Horizons, Fiyah Magazine, Diabolical Plots, and others. You can also hear her narrations at any of the four Escape Artists podcasts, Far Fetched Fables, and Strange Horizons. Khaalidah is also co-editor at PodCastle audio magazine, where she is on a mission to encourage more women and POC to submit fantasy stories. Of her alter ego, K from the planet Vega, it is rumored that she owns a time machine and knows the secret to immortality. She can be found online at khaalidah.com and on Twitter as @khaalidah. Author's note: The unjust violent death of Michael Brown at the hands of a police officer was the specific impetus for this story. I tried to imagine what his mother must’ve been feeling upon learning about her son’s death. This wasn’t difficult because I have a son as well. I tried to impart the feeling of rage and horror I, any mother, would feel upon learning that her son was taken away in such a violent horrific way. Main Story: “Gust of Wind Made by a Swinging Blade” by Molly N. Moss (Originally published in Weirdbook #32.) Again, Kinnori strained against the ropes binding him, his muscles already throbbing from exertion. Once again, the cords sliced his flesh and yielded not at all. It was dark in the hold of the guard-ship Murakumo, and a gathering chill numbed his fingers. Rolling waves conspired with exhaustion to make Kinnori's eyelids grow heavy. He shook himself and growled, “Escape or die, Shoji Kinnori.” Molly N. Moss is the pen name of a tuxedo housecat named Marlene who lives in Athens, Georgia. When Marlene got bored with being left alone all day every day, she taught herself to read fiction as a hobby. After a while she decided to try writing fiction of her own. Marlene's fiction has appeared in numerous publications, including Weird Tales, Bards & Sages Quarterly, and the anthology Dark Magic: Witches, Hackers, & Robots. About the Narrator: "The Banshee" is read by the author; see bio above. Eric Luke is the screenwriter of the Joe Dante film Explorers, which is currently in development as a remake; has written for the comic books Ghost and Wonder Woman; and wrote and directed the Not Quite Human films for Disney TV.  His current project, Interference (a meta horror audiobook about an audiobook... that kills), is a bestseller on Audible.com. His website for creative projects is Quillhammer.com. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“Princess Cosima and the 1,000 Cats” by Sarah L. Byrne (Originally published in Betwixt #4.) "Provide ships or sails adapted to the heavenly breezes, and there will be some who will not fear even that void." -- Johannes Kepler, 1610 The red palace was home to a thousand cats. Or so people said. Princess Cosima, twenty, beautiful and bored, walked through the courtyards until she saw a lithe sandy female sunning itself on the flagstones. She slipped into the cat's mind and sent it prowling across the square, scrambling up the red stone wall onto a tiled canopy and darting over the battlements above towards the nearest tower. Sarah L. Byrne is a scientific editor and writer in London, UK. Her short speculative fiction has appeared in various publications, including Daily Science Fiction, Nature, and Best of British Science Fiction 2016. She can be found online at sarahbyrne.org/fiction. About the Narrator: Tatiana Grey is a critically acclaimed actress of stage, screen, and the audio booth. She has been nominated for dozens of fancy awards but hasn’t won a single damned thing. However, she does have a feature film hitting the festival circuit, called Serious Laundry. She lives in Brooklyn, New York. Learn more about her at tatianagrey.com. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Main Story: “The Tower of Morning's Bones” by Hal Duncan (Originally published in Paper Cities: An Anthology of Urban Fantasy.) “Once upon a time, the land of Shuber and Hamazi, Many tongued Sumer, the great Land of princeship’s divine laws, Uri, the land having all that is appropriate, The land Martu, resting in security, The whole universe, the people in unison, To Enlil, in one tongue gave praise." — Samuel N. Kramer (trans.), Enmerkar and The Lord of Aratta Daybreak in the Underworld A dream, astream, a babe asleep, alone by babbalong of riveron, past shimmer falls & hinter springs, we finned a wolfchild in invernal wildwoods—where? See there? we say. A marblous youth carved out in white & green of mirrormoon & veins of vines: a singer slain. Muses & furies dance around him in an Amazon of maize. The winged horse of his sylph sups at the water lapping, slapping, at his feet. Flowers & leaves form almost a blankout over him. What is his name? we quiz. If we could kissper it in his ear, he might arise out of the night, into the mourning. Away, we scoff at our others. A way? A — wait! He is awakening. Hal Duncan is the author of Vellum and Ink, more recently Testament, and numerous short stories, poems, essays, and even some musicals. Homophobic hate mail once dubbed him "THE.... Sodomite Hal Duncan!!" [sic], and you can find him online at halduncan.com or at his Patreon for readings, reveling in that role. About the Narrator: Seth Williams is the avatar for a three-kilometer sentient starship that is parked (probably uncomfortably) close to the third planet. Surprisingly, he has not yet been discovered. He is very happy that the inhabitants have discovered enough technology to that he can communicate in this limited fashion. Any communications can be directed to theboojum.org. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“The Seal of Sulaymaan” by Tracy Canfield (Originally published in Fantasy Magazine, July 2010.) Back when there were other ifriit to talk to, I’d tell them Morocco was as far as you can get from Mecca without leaving civilization. In Agadir, with its casinos and five-star hotels and nightclubs filled with Moroccan tourists sporting European fashions too daring to wear at home, even these most fractious of beings could not have argued; but here, a mere twenty miles out of town, I could barely have spoken the words myself without laughing. A thousand and one trashbags flapped and snapped on the branches of the argan trees, blown by the June breeze from every dump in the country. A plastic Ayn Sultaan bottle arced from the window of a passing truck, trailing a mist of carbonated mineral water, and bounced in the dust. Except for the bags, the bottle, and the asphalt road, the landscape was much as I had always known it: rolling hills and twisted gray-green trees, dust and blue sky. One tall tree had been cleared of bags, and a herd of goats perched among its branches, nibbling the pointed argan fruit. A goatherd in a dusty jalbiib leaned on his stick and watched them. I thought of King Sulaymaan (may they build a halaal McDonalds on his grave) leaning on his own stick and took a step out of my way to crush the Ayn Sultaan bottle under my heel. Tracy Canfield’s short fantasy and science fiction has appeared in Analog, Strange Horizons, and other magazines and anthologies. She is a computational linguist who CNN once called a "Klingon scholar" for her work on the Jenolan Caves’ Klingon-language audio tour. Currently, she’s currently developing a computer game based on her space opera novelette “Salvage” for Choice of Games LLC. You can find her on Twitter as @TracyCanfield. About the Narrator: Khalidaah Muhammad-Ali lives in Houston, Texas, with her family. By day she works as a breast oncology nurse. At all other times, she juggles, none too successfully, the multiple other facets of her very busy life. Khaalidah has been published at or has publications upcoming in Strange Horizons, Fiyah Magazine, Diabolical Plots, and others. You can also hear her narrations at any of the four Escape Artists podcasts, Far Fetched Fables, and Strange Horizons. Khaalidah is also co-editor at PodCastle audio magazine, where she is on a mission to encourage more women and POC to submit fantasy stories. Of her alter ego, K from the planet Vega, it is rumored that she owns a time machine and knows the secret to immortality. She can be found online at khaalidah.com and on Twitter as @khaalidah. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“The Breeding Dust” by Dennis Mombauer (Originally published in Outliers of Speculative Fiction.) Silent, angular houses with white plaster, a sand-suffocated well and a couple of stunted palms huddled together on the low ground, a once bustling city that only the ghostly desert wind inhabited now. The sun gleamed down without mercy, hanging in the sky as a swirling ball that made the air flicker, and the small caravan decided to rest in this ancient oasis. The camels were led down the loose sand dunes and racked up in the shadow of the ruined walls, while the men sought refuge in one of the best-preserved buildings. Scattered sunbeams fell in through holes in the roof and illuminated dusty rubble, but it was comfortably cool compared to the heat outside. Everyone looked for a place to sit, drank freshly cooked tea and tried to pay as little attention as possible to the wind, which seemed to carry along doleful whispers from a prouder time. The men agreed to wait for nightfall or late afternoon before they would continue their journey, although a short examination found the well waterless and the rest of the city equally empty, not even home to bones or mummified remains. Dennis Mombauer was born in 1984 in the namesake capital of the Bonn Republic and raised along the Rhine river. He currently lives and works as a theater agent and freelance author in Cologne, and rites weird fiction, textual experiments, and literary essays as well as non-naturalist drama and English poetry acculturated with German. He translates both fiction and non-fiction, and is the editor, co-founder, and co-publisher of Die Novelle – Magazine for Experimentalism. Dennis' publications have appeared in various small- to medium-sized magazines and anthologies. He can be found online at dennismombauer.com. About the Narrator: Cheyenne Wright is a freelance illustrator and concept artist. He is the color artist on the three-time Hugo Award winning steampunk graphic novel series Girl Genius, and co-creator of many other fine works; Including 50 Fathoms and the Ennie award winning Deadlands Noir for the Savage Worlds RPG. He has also produced graphics for Star Trek Online, the Champions MMO, and t-shirt designs for TV’s Alton Brown. Cheyenne lives in Seattle with his wife, their daughter, and an ever growing stack of unpainted miniatures. In his spare time he is teaching himself animation, and narrates short stories for a variety of audio anthologies where he is known as podcasting’s Mr. Buttery ManVoice™. You can find him online at arcanetimes.com. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“Where There's Magic” by Michelle Ann King (Originally published in Kaleidotrope, April 2016.) The witch had a favourite saying: where there's life, there's magic. There was a second part -- where there's magic, there's death -- but she usually kept that to herself. She placed the newborn into the father's arms. He gazed upon the babe with wonder, then upon his wife with concern. "Why does she still scream?" he said. "Can't you ease her pain?" "There is still pain because she carries twins. There is a second part of this birth to come." The mother lifted her head from the sweat-soaked pillow and shrieked louder. The witch went back to her work. They called the first child Heavenly Gift. She had clothes and toys and kittens awaiting her, all stamped and stitched and branded with her name. There was also further coin for the witch, to perform magical blessings for her good fortune. Her twin, unexpected and unasked for, had none of these things. They called this girl Second Part. "That's not going to end well," the witch said, but nobody listened. Since she hadn't been paid for divination, she didn't try to make them. Michelle Ann King was born in East London and now lives in Essex. Her stories have appeared in over seventy different venues, including Interzone, Strange Horizons, and Black Static. Her favourite author is Stephen King (sadly, no relation), and she also loves zombies, Las Vegas, and good Scotch whisky. Her first short story collection, Transient Tales, is available in ebook and paperback from Amazon and other online retailers. About the Narrator: Nikolle Doolin a voice actor and a writer of fiction, scripts, and poetry. She has performed narrations for a number of popular and award-winning podcasts, such as The NoSleep Podcast, Tales to Terrify, and StarShip Sofa. She also narrates classic literature in her own podcast Audio Literature Odyssey. To learn more about Nikolle, visit her website at nikolledoolin.com. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“Princess Lily's Wedding” by Robert J. Santa (Originally published in Blood, Blade & Thruster.) "I love him, Daddy!" King Frederick breathed deeply. It had been a very long conversation with his youngest child, punctuated by much pouting and exasperated sighing and stomping of pretty feet. Frederick stood over her while she held her face in her hands and cried. He wanted to do nothing more than pout and sigh and stomp his feet. Of course, he couldn't, even in his daughter's bedroom with no one else to see. Kings had to uphold higher standards, especially with sixteen year-old daughters. Robert J. Santa has been writing speculative fiction for more than thirty years. His works have appeared in numerous online and print markets. Robert lives in Rhode Island, USA, with his beautiful wife and two, equally beautiful daughters, one of whom is named Lily. And while she is nothing like the Lily of this tale, she could be without stretching the imagination too much. “Shoe Man” by Tonya Liburd (Originally published in Expanded Horizons, July 2016.) Somewhere in downtown Toronto, a homeless black man had shoes whose soles were flapping. He refused to give them up, no matter what people said, no matter what people offered. They were the first things he ever bought in Canada, the shoes he wore to his wedding, so long ago. The wedding that was supposed to mark the beginning of a new life, a good life in Canada. A good life… they were pretty young, he had a wife, he had a daughter, he had a job… then the illness reared its head and took over. And everything spiraled out of control. No medications would make his mind whole again; the fear and confusion from his wife, the fights. The guilt over his daughter witnessing it all. When his wife died instantly from the car accident while he got barely a scratch – fortunately their daughter wasn’t with them – it was the last thing he could take, and he remembered just everything conspiring to force him out the door and leave everything behind. Well, almost. He still had his shoes. That was years ago. Tonya Liburd shares a birthday with Simeon Daniel and Ray Bradbury, which may tell you a little something about her; and while she has an enviable collection of vintage dust bunnies to her credit, her passions are music (someday!) and of course, words. Her poetry has been nominated for the Rhysling award, and her fiction has been long-listed in the 2015 Carter V. Cooper (Vanderbilt)/Exile Short Fiction Competition. Her story “The Ace of Knives” is in the anthology Postscripts to Darkness 6, and is used in Nisi Shawl’s workshops as an example of "code switching". She is the associate editor of Abyss & Apex magazine. You can find her blogging at spiderlilly.com or on Twitter as @somesillywowzer, and support her over at Patreon.com/TonyaLiburd. About the Narrators: Matt Dovey is very tall and very English and most likely drinking a cup of tea right now. He has a scar on his arm that he can't remember getting, but a terrible darkness floods his mind when he considers it. He now lives in a quiet market town in rural England with his wife and three children, and despite being a writer, he still hasn't found the right words to properly express the delight and joy he finds in this wonderful arrangement. His surname rhymes with "Dopey", but any other similarities to the dwarf are purely coincidental. He is the Golden Pen winner for Writers of the Future Volume 32 (2016), was shortlisted for the James White Award in 2016, and has fiction out and forthcoming all over the place; you can keep up with it at mattdovey.com, or follow along on Facebook and Twitter. Cris Maycock is a Bajan Yankee who has lived in Brooklyn most of her life, a beach lover, a food lover, and a sci-fi fan who likes to think that she is both scientific and creative. Cris loves storytelling and the performance medium of audio books." See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“By Appointment to the Throne” by Alter S. Reiss (Originally published in Beneath Ceaseless Skies #155.) Getting up early enough to open a kitchen hurts. Leaving a warm bed before second watch makes your head ache, and you can feel the chill going from the cobbles through your feet and into your soul. When it's wet on top of the cold, it's the nearest thing to hell. But once I'm there and I'm in the rhythm, it just moves. I check the carcasses as they come in, kick up a fuss if they try to give us short weight or diseased animals, and then I lift them up, bring them in, and take them apart. Hook and cleaver work for two, sometimes three hours. A lot of the Xac refugees working at the Mountain Pine are Sisori, so the hour before dawn, they'll do their prayers out in the garden. I don't mind, even though it slows us down when we need to speed up; I'd rather work with people who stop for prayers and stagger through fast days than with children glittering on juice, or gangs, or spirit. Just after the Sisori came back from morning prayers one of the dishwashers ran in, bloody and yelling.  My first thought was one of the gangs had taken a knife to him. Uncle Cestin owned the Mountain Pine and he paid protection most months, but sometimes not, and gang kids have more glitter than sense. But the washer was bloody, not bleeding, and he was yelling in Xactan about a girl named Meica. Alter S. Reiss lives in Jerusalem with his wife Naomi and their son Uriel. According to his mother, his first word was "book", which seems about right. He likes good food, bad movies, and hopes that at some point his apartment won't be under construction. He is occasionally on Twitter as @asreiss, and he has a somewhat bare-bones website at altersreiss.wordpress.com. About the Narrator: Roberto Suarez is a higher-education professional who loves all things fantasy and science fiction, comic books and board games He is the co-host and producer of A Pod of Casts: The Game of Thrones Podcast and Radio Westworld: The Westworld Podcast. You can find Roberto on the web at robertosuarez.me, or on Twitter via @PuertoGeekan." See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“Phoenix for the Amateur Chef” by Scott Huggins (Originally published in Sword and Sorceress 30.) The phoenix fell. Its sobbing death cry silenced by a coat of ravening flame, it corkscrewed to earth, bleeding dirty white fire across the dusk. What struck the cliff face above our heads was a ball of charred meat. We ducked the searing gobbet of flesh. Only a little pile of ash and bone was left, rapidly whitening, like charcoal. I looked at Tywin, who stood sucking his teeth and polishing his great stonebow. He dropped the remaining stones to the earth, unanointed by Trelesta’s unguent. “Well, shit,” I said finally. Scott Huggins grew up in the American Midwest and has lived there all his life, except for interludes in the European Midwest (Germany) and East (Russia). He is currently responsible for securing America’s future by teaching its past to high school students, many of whom learn things before going to college. His preferred method of teaching and examination is strategic warfare. He loves to read high fantasy, space opera, and parodies of the same. He wants to be a hybrid of G.K. Chesterton and Terry Pratchett when he counteracts the effects of having grown up. When he is not teaching or writing, he devotes himself to his wife, their three children, and his cat. About the Narrator: Andrea Richardson is a British singer and actress. With extensive stage and film performances to her name, she began narration and voiceover work in 2014 but enjoys using her existing skills in a different way. You can find Andrea at andrea-richardson.co.uk and on Facebook." See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“The Sickness” by Valjeanne Jeffers (Originally published in Griots: Sisters of the Spear.) The Bini warriors crouched in the high grass of the savanna. They'd passed the Fula borders a mile back, and now were a hundred yards from the Adobe mud city. At the forefront they were armed with sword and shield, behind them the archers readied their bows. General Chinua led the army. To his right was Nandi, a tall woman with braided hair, high cheekbones and full lips and her ebony-skinned husband, Sula, his head shaved in the traditional Bini custom. To Chinua's left was Nandi's older brother, Tomi. A wide gateway led into the Fula kingdom. It was deserted. Valjeanne Jeffers is a graduate of Spelman College, a member of the Carolina African American Writer’s Collective (CAAWC) and the author of ten books: Including her Immortal series, and her most recent Mona Livelong: Paranormal Detective series. Her first novel, Immortal, is featured on the Invisible Universe Documentary time-line, and her novella, The Switch II: Clockwork, was nominated as best eBook novella of 2013 by the eFestival of words. Her writing has been published in numerous anthologies including The City: A Cyberfunk, 60 Black Women in Horror Fiction, Steamfunk!, Genesis Science Fiction Magazine, The Ringing Ear: Black Poets Lean South (as Valjeanne Jeffers-Thompson), Griots: A Sword and Soul Anthology, Liberated Muse I: How I Freed My Soul, PurpleMag, Drumvoices Revue, 31 Days of Steamy Mocha, Griots II: Sisters of the Spear, Possibilities, Black Gold, and most recently Fitting In: Historical Accounts of Paranormal Subcultures and Sycorax's Daughters. Valjeanne is also one of the screen writers for the horror anthology film 7 Magpies (in production). Preview or purchase her novels at vjeffersandqveal.com. Support her on Patreon at patreon.com/ValjeanneJeffers. “The Heartless Boy” by Ed Ahern (Originally published in Strangely Funny II.) Tom Willman was born experiencing no strong feelings, in fact no feelings at all. No love or affection. No hate or dislike. Certainly no fear. The closest he came to emotions were pleasing or displeasing sensations. Tom’s parents, desperate for a smile, had him tested for a litany of diseases, but he proved to be uncaringly above average. They quit trying to show Tom affection by the time he was six, and by the time he was ten were providing only what was legally required of them. Ed Ahern resumed writing after forty odd years in foreign intelligence and international sales. He has his original wife, but advises that after 49 years they’re both out of warranty. He works the other side of writing at Bewildering Stories, where he sits on the review board and manages a posse of five review editors. Ed’s had 140 stories and poems published so far, and a series of articles on fly fishing. His collected fairy and folk tales, The Witch Made Me Do It, was published by Gypsy Shadow Press. His novella The Witches Bane was published by World Castle Publishing, and his collected fantasy and horror stories, Capricious Visions, was published by Gnome on Pig Press. Ed’s currently working on a paranormal/thriller novel tentatively titled The Rule of Chaos. Visit his website at swampgasworks.com and at Twitter as @bottomstripper. About the Narrators: Aminat Badara is a budding writer and aspiring on-air-personality. She loves reading and has a weird penchant for collecting hardcover notebooks and mugs. When she's not writing or trying to be superhuman, she's either looking for Xs to solve, seeing movies, or getting her heart broken by Arsenal FC. Every once in a while, she puts up posts on meenahsthoughts.wordpress.com. You can find her on Twitter as @09_Eleven. Anthony Babington is a voice in the internet’s head, who looks almost, but not quite, exactly how you expect him to. Having escaped from the sinister forces of Texas, he has retreated to an ingeniously disguised bunker in a secure, undisclosed location in Burnsville, Minnesota. His life goal is to someday annoy Norm Sherman into letting him voice a part on Escape Pod,... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“The Centaur's Daughter” by Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam (Originally published in A cappella Zoo.) As a little girl I never understood my father’s night self. It’s hard to be a kid whose father is two people. He changed every day with the sky. I cried at sunrise. I had trouble sleeping. Still do, and I’ve had seventeen years to process my father’s differences. When I was small enough that my hands didn’t fit around a soda bottle, I couldn’t be left alone. The babysitter would coax me from the safety of my closet with chocolate granola surprise shakes and a broom guitar upon which she sang classic Elvis. Despite myself I always laughed. I loved that babysitter, but babysitters don’t follow you into high school. Now when I think of her, I see the woman who, once I was old enough to understand, told me that my father was a monster, warned me that I had his blood, that even though I would never look half-horse like him, I could still develop the night terrors, The Confusion. “You better be careful, Ruby. It runs... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“Spirit Dance” by Douglas Smith (Originally published in Tesseracts 6, this work is the prequel story to Douglas's novel The Wolf at the End of the World.) In the beginning of things, men were as animals and animals as men. -- Cree legend Vera made a warding sign as I entered the store, my hound Gelert trailing behind me. She pretended to wipe her hands on her faded blue apron, but I caught the dance of her fingers. “Hello, Vera. It’s been a while,” I said. “Yes, yes it has, Mr. Blaidd,” she said too quickly, not returning my smile. Turning from where she’d been refilling a food bin, she addressed her husband. “I gotta check something in the back, Ed.” Almost running, she slipped behind the long wooden counter and into the storeroom at the rear of the store. Edward Two Rivers leaned on the counter beside the cash register, a newspaper spread in front of him, his long gray hair spilling onto the pages. He watched her leave then smiled at me. “Ouch,” I said. “You still spook her,” he... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“Bones of a Righteous Man” by Michael Ezell (Originally published in Fantasy for Good.) -- Has the life of a righteous man been taken? -- We find that it has, Excellency. -- And what shall become of the killer? -- He shall carry the bones of the righteous man until their weight does cause his death. The setting sun reflected in a million rose-hued sparkles across the surface of the Glass Desert. The slit in Traveler’s eyeshades cut everything down to a thin panorama. A glittering expanse of heat glass, marked only by the crushed tracks of the Apostates’ road. In those tracks traveled the wagon he’d been following for days. Weeks, really. With a start, he realized it was more like months. Wasn’t it? Through the shimmer to his right, he saw either a town, or a mirage that would lead him astray, wasting precious time. Michael Ezell is a former US Marine who now works as a project coordinator for an Emmy-winning makeup effects shop in Southern California. Michael's story "The Good Food", from Beyond... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"Flash Fiction: “Never Leave Me” by Michelle Ann King (Originally published at Daily Science Fiction.) Katrine grew up with the stories, she knew them as well as her own name. First there was true love's kiss, then the fair maiden became the radiant bride, and she lived happily ever after. But the stories all stopped there, and Katrine hadn't realized just how much ever after there would be. Michelle Ann King was born in East London and now lives in Essex. Her stories have appeared in over seventy different venues, including Interzone, Strange Horizons, and Black Static. Her favourite author is Stephen King (sadly, no relation), and she also loves zombies, Las Vegas, and good Scotch whisky. Her first short story collection, Transient Tales, is available in ebook and paperback from Amazon and other online retailers. Main Story: “The Prototype” by Judith Field (Originally published in Stupefying Stories, August 2012.) When they let me out of hospital, I decided to rent somewhere with space to write.... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"Flash Fiction: “Mysterious Ways” by David Steffen (Originally published in Uncle John's Flush Fiction Anthology.) The afterlife was arbitrary, Sam Fichtner decided. There was no Heaven or Hell, only one place. He'd had plenty of time to ponder since he crossed over. The Hereafter was filled with endless rows of clear domes like the one he occupied, a space of infinite size covered with a grid of cake platters. When people died, they were each partitioned into one of these domes, to spend the rest of eternity. David Steffen is a writer, editor, and software engineer. He edits Diabolical Plots, which began publishing original fiction in 2015. He runs the Submission Grinder, a tool for writers to find markets for their work. He recently published The Long List Anthology, which is a collection of 21 stories from the longer Hugo Award nomination list last year. His own stories have been published in many nice places, including Escape Pod, Podcastle, Daily Science Fiction, and StarShipSofa. Main Story:... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“Vendemiaire” by L.S. Johnson (Originally published in B is for Broken.) There was a time when Arianne could not see over the rows of her father’s grapevines. At the height of the summer the vineyard became a vast maze and she would follow her mother, watching her taste the grapes, her skirts swaying as she walked, a fine haze of dirt collecting on their hems. The world then was black soil and green life and her mother striding ahead, head held high, lips and fingers stained crimson from the juices. All of that was years ago. Yet there are days when Arianne goes far into the rows, searching for anyplace where the leaves are green and dense still, where the fruit grows plump, not mildewed and shriveled. When at last she finds a patch she goes down on her knees in the dirt until she can see nothing but blushing fruit and green leaves and the blue sky above. L.S. Johnson was born in New York and now lives in Northern California, where she feeds her cats by writing book indexes. Her stories have appeared... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“Inundated” by Jonathan Laidlow (Originally published in Ecotones.) Yuri woke up to the sound of waves breaking at the end of the street, and knew that the undines had breached the final defences. Even his house, one of the furthest from the harbour, would be theirs once again, like the rest of the city. Jonathan Laidlow grew up in the North West of England, near the Sellafield Nuclear Power plant, which regularly leaked. He has one good leg, one good eye, and one good ear… His stories have appeared at Daily Science Fiction ("Hyrmnal") and Liminal Stories ("Obtrusion Rate" on May 1st). His next story will be at Strange Horizons. He lives in Birmingham, UK, and run the Ultan's Library website about Gene Wolfe, available at ultan.org.uk. He tweets as @burtkenobi and blogs occasionally at jonlaidlow.com. About the Narrator: Ron Jon is a writer, narrator, and singer. He has written and published children’s books, scripts and screenplays for animation and live action, and musical lyrics and libretti. He... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“Another Beginning” by Michael McGlade (Originally published in Shimmer #29.) The Real Beginning Ógán loses Niamh to his best friend Malachy. Ógán and Niamh had been high school sweethearts, and the three of them had been inseparable -- the Three Blind Mice. Ógán stumbled onto this scene: the affair in full swing, the pair of them at it like otters in his best friend's bed (he'd seen a documentary about how otters held hands when they slept -- but this right now was absolutely not cute). Ógán had been let inside by a still-stoned flatmate, the squawking pair growing louder as he raced down the long, cement hallway toward that familiar sound -- knowing it was Niamh behind the locked bedroom door, his teeth zinging like when foil shorts out your fillings. Some things can never be un-seen. Michael McGlade is a freelance writer living in Belfast, Northern Ireland. He has more than 80 short stories published in such journals as the Saturday Evening Post, Hennessy New Irish Writing, Shimmer, Ares Magazine,... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"Main Story: “What the Blood Bog Takes” by Barbara A. BarnettOriginally published in Orson Scott Card's Intergalactic Medicine Show #47.)On the Day of Sacrifice, my sister Asthore and I wait at the blood bog's edge, our feet sinking into the muddy shore. Asthore gawks with unbridled curiosity as the ceremonial procession emerges from the fog-shrouded forest; I watch with trepidation. Our clan-chief Fallon leads the procession, a sheepskin mantle draped across his sinewy shoulders and a wary look on his furrowed face. It has been many generations since the gods last demanded the sacrifice of a clan-chief, but the harvest has been meager this year, and many of our kinsmen have died raiding neighboring clans. And so Fallon walks with slow steps, leaden with the possibility that today the gods will call for his death.Barbara A. Barnett is a writer, musician, orchestra librarian, coffee addict, wine lover, and all-around geek. Her short fiction... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“The Ministry of Sacred Affairs” by Claude Lalumière (Originally published in Here Be Monsters #7: Tongues and Teeth.) Lost in music, it takes some time for Leo to register that Rosa is calling his name, that her hand is trembling on his shoulder. He lays down his violin and clasps her wrinkled hands between his. "Something terrible's happened next door. At the Bergens'. Pounding on the wall. A shriek. Things thrown about." Rosa speech is terse, choppy, nervous. Leo stands up and enfolds his small and fragile wife in his bony old arms. She continues: "I phoned, but there was no answer." Leo and Rosa look away from each other. Leo knows which memory haunts his wife. It haunts him, too, but they never speak of it. Of him. Claude Lalumière is the author of Objects of Worship, The Door to Lost Pages, Nocturnes and Other Nocturnes, and the forthcoming in 2017 Venera Dreams. His work has been translated into French, Italian, Polish, Spanish, Hungarian, and Serbian and adapted for stage, screen, audio... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"Main Story: “Wallamelon” by Nisi Shawl (Originally published in Aeon #3.) The boys ran ahead of her as she walked, and circled back again like little dogs. Kevin urged her onto the path that cut across the vacant lot beside his house. Mercy was standing on a pile of rubble half the way through, her straight hair shining in the noonday sun like a long, black mirror. She was pointing down at something Oneida couldn’t see from the path, something small, something so wonderful it made sad Mercy smile. “Wallamelons,” Kevin explained as they left the path. “Grown all by they selves; ain’t nobody coulda put em there.” “Watermelons,” Oneida corrected him automatically. The plant grew out from under a concrete slab. At first all she could see was its broad leaves, like green hearts with scalloped edges. Mercy pushed these aside to reveal the real treasure: four fat globes, dark and light stripes swelling in their middles and vanishing into one another at either end. They were watermelons, all right. Each one... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“The Sorcerer's Aprpentice” by Robert Silverberg Originally published in Flights: Extreme Visions of Fantasy.) Gannin Thidrich was nearing the age of thirty and had come to Triggoin to study the art of sorcery, a profession for which he thought he had some aptitude, after failing at several for which he had none. He was a native of the Free City of Stee, that splendid metropolis on the slopes of Castle Mount, and at the suggestion of his father, a wealthy merchant of that great city, he had gone first into meat-jobbing, and then, through the good offices of an uncle from Dundilmir, he had become a dealer in used leather. In neither of these occupations had he distinguished himself, nor in the desultory projects he had undertaken afterward. But from childhood on he had pursued sorcery in an amateur way, first as a boyish hobby, and then as a young man's consolation for shortcomings in most of the other aspects of his life -- helping out friends even unluckier than he with an uplifting spell or two... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“The Adventurer's Wife” by Premee Mohamad (Originally published in She Walks In Shadows.) It was not till after the adventurer had been interred that we learned that the man had been married. My editor, Cheltenwick, did not even let the graveyard mud dry decently on his boots before he dispatched me to the widow’s house with instructions for a full interview, which I had no doubt he would embellish even more than his wont. “Delicate sighs, Greene,” he said, hurrying me into a cab and pushing a fresh notebook into my hands. “A crystal-like droplet that rolls down her wan face. I want that, and a most particular description of the house, and don’t botch it up!” “Do it your precious self, Wick-Dick!” I wished to shout, but it was too late and my career would be worth less than an apple-fed horsefart if I did botch this article. Henley Dorsett Penhallick had been a living legend for 50 years; any description of a life-imperiling venture or terrifying journey was known as a ‘Dorsett tale’ in these parts.... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“The Blind Queen's Daughter” by Scott Huggins (Originally published in Hides the Dark Tower.) The heavy mauls swung inward, the only thunder in the soft morning rain. The priests watched, trembling. The small man from Arabia stared hungrily at the widening hole. The bricks sealing the cell shivered, and Amren watched his father’s jaw tremble under the blow. Tremble as it never had in two desperate battles. Not even when the men of his auxilia fell about him in desperate retreat had Amren seen Sir Bedwyr’s face show fear. Until now. And the Roman Legate looked on, sneering. The brick fell inward under the final blow, and only gelid, tomb-like darkness crouched within. Perhaps she is dead. How long had she dwelt in this three-windowed cell, sealed up in brick, lest her anchoress’s vows of solitude prove, like her wedding vows, too weak? Since before my birth, nearly twenty years ago. How could she but die, if she had not gone mad? But from within the cell, a scraping of feet echoed, and a shape emerged... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"This Week: “The Inn of the Seven Blessings” by Matthew Hughes (Originally published in Rogues.) The thief Raffalon was sleeping away the noon-day heat behind some bracken a short distance from the forest road when the noise of the struggle awakened him. He rolled over onto his stomach, quietly drawing his knife in case of need. Then he lay still and tried to see through the inter-layered branches. Figures scuffled, voices spoke indistinctly, the syllables both sibilant and guttural. A muffled cry, as of a man with a hand over his mouth, was followed by the sharp crack of hard wood meeting a human cranium. Raffalon had no intention of offering assistance. The voices he had heard were those of the Vandaayo, whose border was not far away. Vandaayo warriors left their land only for ritual purposes, and then always in groups of six, and never without their hooks and nets and cudgels. Their seasonal festivals centered on the consumption of manflesh, and if Raffalon had attempted to intervene in the... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“The Temple of Thirteen Pleasures” by Laurence Raphael Brothers (Originally published in The Sockdolager #3.) "I'm sorry to summon you like this, Countess" said Marcus apologetically. We were sitting together on a divan in his townhouse drawing room. Lord Cyprian's heir was dressed in a deep crimson suit so dark it was almost black, with a ruffled white cravat held in place with a ruby stickpin. A black memorial armband for his late father was prominent on his sleeve. I was in my temple whites. "Please," I said, "call me Harriet. Anyway I'm here in my capacity as a novice, and it's quite an honor to assist in your rite of investiture. I had to fight off a dozen other priestesses to get the job." Laurence Raphael Brothers is a technologist with R&D experience at such firms as Bell Communications Research and Google. He has recently sold short fiction to the New Haven Review, to The Sockdolager, and to the SciFutures City of the Future anthology. Follow him on twitter via @lbrothers. “Dante's... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"This Week: “Caveat Emptor/Caveat Venditor” by Ed Ahern (Originally published in Silver Pen.) As warlocks go, Harald was a failure. Even though his curses were vigorously evil, and his pitches quite logical, he almost always lost the business. Harald partly blamed his sex. Most internet advertising for spells and curses came from witches. Those seeking vengeance or unfair advantage picked the repugnant hags rather than Harald, who was merely homely and middle aged. Harald had given himself mental hernias trying to increase sales.. Fifteen years an apprentice and sorcerer, he thought, and nothing to show for it. Washed out priests and ministers become counselors or teachers, but who’s willing to pay tuition to learn the uses of bloodwort? Harald had joined Wizards Anonymous, but the other members only talked about their mushroom dependencies. Needing money to live on, he took a job with a livery service, driving pampered executives to and from New York airports. It was several months of traffic jams... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"This Week: “Dependent Assemblies” by Philip A. Suggars (Originally published in Interzone #262.) “Purity of blood, purity of spirit. One nation united by the river, one nation united under the sun” – Elias Rojas presidential campaign slogan, Buenos Aires 1894. Alfonso and Marcelo were cold and tired as they shovelled the dirt onto Celia’s small body in the shallow grave. Alfonso dared himself to look down, catching a glimpse of her porcelain fingers and the yellowing heads of the freesias that they had buried with her in the garden. He wanted to cry, but all he felt was an aching numbness in his fingertips. A sudden play of spotlights above the cloud announced the arrival of an ornithopteron. The monolithic black moth burst through the grey canopy that covered the city and flapped low over their house, bellowing a hunting call so deep it throbbed in Alfonso’s chest. Philip A. Suggars is a British writer with a single yellow eye in the middle of his forehead and a collection of vintage binoculars. His... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“Sea of Strangers” by Michael M. Jones (Originally published in Inscription.) There was a weird vibe in the halls before first period today. As I made my way towards homeroom, weaving between people with experienced ease, I picked up a thousand different emotions-- everything you’d expect from a building packed to the gills with hormone-ridden teenagers and long-suffering adults-- and something new, strange, and impossible to identify. A slippery, elusive, emotional flavor that tinted the rest without revealing itself. It poked at my subconscious, put me on edge, made me just a little careless. I bounced off a man-mountain wearing a football letter jacket, and got a snarled, “Watch it, lesbo,” for my troubles. The shove he gave me wasn’t gentle; I stutter-stepped away, trying to regain my balance. It was going to be one of those days. Some people hate Mondays; this was proof that Tuesdays could be just as bad, given the opportunity. Sometimes, it really sucks to be queer and out in high school. I blame... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"“Languid in Rose” by Frances Silversmith (Originally published in Fantasy for Good.) Lilia I, Queen of Roses, reluctantly opened her eyes to yet another perfect day, courtesy of the Enchantment. The briar rose outside her windows threw moving shadows on the salmon-colored material curtains of her four-poster bed. What a disgustingly lovely sight. Lilia forced her heavy limbs to a sitting position. Instantly, her maid appeared with a cup of hot chocolate -- as she did every morning. When she was younger, Lilia had often tried to trick the Enchantment, getting up in the middle of the night, or staying prone in bed until long past her usual hour -- to no avail; the maid always appeared on time. Lilia sipped the cocoa, wishing that she could decline the too-sweet drink. But Queen Rose I, Lilia’s great-great-grandmother and the Great Benefactress of the kingdom, had decreed that the queen should have a cup of hot chocolate upon awaking. And so the queen did. Queen Rose I had made a Great Sacrifice a... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"First Story: “The Girl in the Windmill” by Wendy Nikel (Originally published in Enchanted Spark. Based on the Italian fairy tale "In Love with a Statue") Maartje van Dijk lived in a windmill. At the age of ten, her vater and moeder perished at sea, and she was sent to live with her Opa on the coast. Despite her grief, she grew to love him and he taught her all about how to grind the village's grains and tend the enormous sails and gears that made the mill run. Her Opa hadn't always run the mill, though. Each evening, by firelight, he would show Maartje the amazing feats of transformation that he used to perform all over the world. When Wendy Nikel isn't traveling in time, exploring magical islands, or investigating mysterious phenomena, she enjoys a quiet life near Utah's Wasatch Mountains with her husband and sons. She has a degree in elementary education, a fondness for road trips, and a terrible habit of forgetting where she's left her cup of tea. Her short fiction has been published by AE, Daily... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

sh Fiction: “Connection” by Lynette Meija (Originally published at Daily Science Fiction.) The magician wobbled a little on his bar stool. "Ask me what I did for a living," he said. Somewhere deep inside of him a small voice was shouting to shut up, that he sounded like a fool, but he ignored it. His plane was likely delayed until morning, anyhow. "I already know what you are," she answered. Her pale skin seemed to shimmer a little in the murky atmosphere of the bar. He liked the way the dim light played on her features, rendering half of her in shadow. "And what is that?" His words were slurred. Was this his fourth whiskey, or his fifth? "You're a magician," she said, as if it were obvious. Lynette Meija writes science fiction, fantasy, and horror prose and poetry from the middle of a deep, dark forest in the wilds of southern Louisiana. Her work has been nominated for the Rhysling Award and the Million Writers Award. You can find her online at lynettemejia.com. Main Story: “Starspawn” by Cyril... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Flash Fiction: “Descanso Dream” by Jay Lake & Ruth Nestvold ("Tales of the Rose Knights" #12, originally published at Daily Science Fiction.) Descanso is the smallest of the Rose Knights, and perhaps the strangest. He is a dream made flesh, a pale man with skin the white of the ocean's dead, riding a horse of fog and silk. His banners trail behind him like a wind from the Orient. His smile gleams of starlight and the gentle thoughts of a loving woman.   Jay Lake lived in Portland, Oregon until his death in 2014, shortly before his 50th birthday. His books include Kalimpura from Tor and Love in the Time of Metal and Flesh from Prime. His short fiction appeared regularly in literary and genre markets worldwide. Jay was a winner of the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, and a multiple nominee for the Hugo and World Fantasy Awards. In 2015, he posthumously received the Locus Award for his collection Last Plane to Heaven. Learn more about him and his work at jlake.com. Ruth Nestvold has published... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"First Story: “The Bed of the Crimson King” by Filip Wiltgren (Originally published in Grimdark #9.) The king lies in his big bed under the crimson covers, and dreams of freedom. The bed is not his, not the way the grasses of the savanna were, but he must sleep in it. It is the king's bed, and he is the Crimson King, and he has no choice. He had no choice when he went into the military at thirteen. He had no choice when he shot his commander and formed his own band at nineteen, and he had no choice when he led his men against the soldiers of the Witch King at twenty-six. Now he's an old man lying in a dead man's bed, dreaming of life as a young boy sleeping on the sandy ground. Filip Wiltgren is a writer and tabletop game designer based in Sweden. He's held jobs ranging from coal loader to martial arts teacher -- which are a lot more impressive on paper than in reality -- and his publications range from Nature to Daily Science Fiction. When he isn't writing he spends time with his wife and kids. For... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"Flash Fiction: “The Robbed” by Tim W. Boiteau (Originally published at Every Day Fiction.) You can’t find your keys this morning, so your wife drives you to work. At dinner, it seems, the salt is lacking, but when you attempt to add some more, the shaker is bare. The only consolation at the end of such a troubling day, of course, is Aurelius, but he too is absent from the shelf. When sleep doesn’t come, the bedroom grows long, the blankets constrict the body, stretching over with elastic tension, blood stagnates in the head, and the ears sharpen to the muted creeping of thieves, careful things, biding their time in air vents and drains and the narrow crevices between walls, watching through miniscule peepholes. Tim W. Boiteau's fiction has appeared in such places as Every Day Fiction, The Writing Disorder, LampLight, Kasma Magazine, and Write Room. He was a finalist in Glimmer Train’s 2013 Fiction Open contest. Tim holds a PhD in experimental psychology and lectures at Eastern Michigan University.... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"Flash Fiction: “Hope for Enthos” by Addison Smith (Originally published in Fireside magazine.) The muted horns of passing cars drifted up to Enthos, where he sat on his ledge, peering over the street. The familiar lights and sounds were both comforting and maddening. The scent of flowers washed over him, the blossoms continuing their cycle of blooming and dying under his watch. How much time do I have left? The sun fell below the horizon, casting shadow over the city, but he felt no chill of night on his wings. The wind howled, but it did not tickle the fur of his neck. The gargoyle sat still, stationary. Stone. Addison Smith lives and writes in the wilds of icy Minnesota with a wolf, a baby wolfling, and (one day soon) another human. He tweets as @addisoncs, but it’s mostly an excuse to share photos of his pets. Main Story: “A Proper War” by James A. Moore (Originally published in Grimdark #8.) They found their prey near the edge of the cliff that fell into the Rehkail River a few hundred feet... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

"Flash Fiction: “Myriam” by Jay Lake & Ruth Nestvold ("Tales of the Rose Knights" #11, originally published at Daily Science Fiction.) When the Rose Knight Myriam arrived in the farthest reaches of the magical lands of Hy Rugosa, she was already so pale she soon became known as the Gossamer Knight. She told no one from whence she hailed or why she had sought out the lands of Hy Rugosa, but rumors abounded: that she had assassinated the leader of the Inner Sea, that she had poisoned the Prince in Point-of-Sleep, that she had betrayed her fellow knights in far Chemeketa. Some thought they heard the lilt of the Moonwood in her voice, others the exotic strains of the Farmost West.   One thing all the stories agreed on--she had been banished. She was mourning. And every day, she disappeared a little bit more. Jay Lake lived in Portland, Oregon until his death in 2014, shortly before his 50th birthday. His books include Kalimpura from Tor and Love in the Time of Metal and Flesh from Prime. His short fiction... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.