Category Archives: Fiction

The Lighthouse Keeper’s Last Vigil by Kai Holmwood It had been years—maybe decades—since the Lighthouse Keeper had thought to wonder what happened to the ships full of sailors who lost all memories of who they were or where they were … Continue reading →

Teenage Mutant Mental Hurdles by George Evans 6/15/2022 This is not a horror story. This is not a horror story because Dread Creature Veith is NOT A HORROR. He is my son. He is NOT a horror, whatever the fishermen … Continue reading →

What’s Written in the Cards by Deborah L. Davitt The cards smelled musty and wrong, like the interior of a pensioner’s home. That was the first thing Winifred noticed as she removed them from the antique box she’d found in … Continue reading →

The Elevator Case by Kit Gadgitar We could see five planets and an infinite number of stars, but no one cared because they needed the restroom. “EEC can’t just hold us here.” I crossed my legs, stiff from four hours confined … Continue reading →

Time Has No Memory by Aeryn Rudel The Late Cretaceous is hotter than the other periods I’ve visited. My dossier says it’s because of all the volcanic activity. I can’t see any volcanoes from my campsite, which is on the … Continue reading →

The Dola and the Saint by Bruce Golden The storm was relentless. For hours the ship swayed and jerked until she was sure she’d be sick. Her brother and sister had already succumbed to the constant pitch and roll, heaving … Continue reading →

The Forgotten Bard by Michael Ashlock It was quite a walk on the Sunset Strip to audition at the Roxy, at least for people in this world. I used to walk wherever I went. It seemed like such a long … Continue reading →

“Who Is Quizmo Cartada?” by Alma Alexander It was the last day of the year and things had piled up. My secretary, Edith Brownlow, had gone on “leave of absence” back in October, and by this stage (3:58 PM on … Continue reading →

The Blacksmith by Jared Zygarlicke Birdsong joined the morning symphony, alongside the millings about of everyday humans. Carts and horses. Leather boots and mud. Children calling to friends or being chastised by their elders. Delicate sunlight snaked through tall Scots … Continue reading →

The Memory Dealer by Katharine Tyndall There is a wash of water, the floor rears up to the darkening sky, screams sound amidst the churning seawater, a cold crackle of ice splitting, and I am falling. I am being swallowed … Continue reading →