Author Archives: Gerry Huntman
Edition 19: Arrest By Hall Jameson
The circus is back in town and a father searches for his missing daughter in a world that doesn’t quite make sense. A wandering clown is the herald of an unwelcome admission. SY
The clown disappeared around the corner of Lady Sapphire’s tent, and I followed. He should not have been there. This was a carnival, not a circus.
But maybe he knew where my daughter was.
The abandoned, ash-dusted carnival grounds reminded me of January, after a weeklong thaw had melted the dirty snow of December and the ground had hardened up again, with a fresh skim of snow covering the asphalt and dead grass. My boots cut blurry prints in the parched lawn with each step.
The halo of smoke surrounding the fairgrounds was thick like a wedge of ice fog. Creaks and groans drifted from the empty stations and booths, boards covering their rainbow faces until their owner’s return. The wind wailed through the spokes and benches of the Ferris wheel and caressed the nose of the zebra on the merry-go-round, his black-and-white striped muzzle wearing a toothy grin.
Edition 19: Book Review: The Ark by Annabel Smith
Reviewed by Damien Smith
I got wind of this novel via the magnificent communication channel that is social media. It’s always nice to have a novel suggested, and then totally by coincidence see it get a mention by a bunch of more familiar sources. It helps turn that “What have I got myself in for?” feeling into smug validation that I, as a reviewer, have made a wise choice promoting this to the top of the To Read pile.
In this case, I was hearing a lot of good press about a great “interactive novel”. I had no idea what an interactive novel was, and there’s always a delicate balance between finding out a bit more and stumbling across spoilers, so I took the plunge and gave it a spin. From what I had read (along the lines of “What would YOU do if the apocalypse came? Lock yourself in a bunker or take a chance outside?”), I was expecting some sort of choose-your-own-adventure novel.
Edition 19: Trial By Fire by Richard Zwicker
When a god shows up at your door, you can’t exactly turn him away. Phokus is recruited by none other than the big guy himself, and sent on a merry little chase. All in the name of a little warmth. SY
A knock at the door roused me from frigid dreams. This being Athens, it was likely a thief ready to slit my throat, so I was disinclined to answer. On the other hand, it could be a disguised god who’d reward my inhospitality by turning me into a chew bone for Cerberus. So, I roused myself out of bed and threw on a lion skin over the leopard and bear skins I already wore. I looked like a walking food chain, but cold beats style in my home.
I opened the door, and a blast of wind cold-cocked me. When my vision cleared, I saw a slouching, bearded old man. The rags he wore were so tattered I wouldn’t have used them to wipe my chariot, if I had a chariot.
“Can you spare some food for a stranger?” he asked, his voice a mix of sand and icicles. If this guy wasn’t Zeus, I was the Cock, the Dog, and the Fox.
Edition 19: Final Journey by Stephen C. Ormsby
A last trip, the last time as nGeneer, the last of a bond with the metal behemoth. When one is relegated, removed from a position of usefulness, how do they survive? A finalist in the 2014 Story Quest competition. SY
I am a part of this train, and the train is a part of me: I am nGeneer. This steel behemoth is not just connected to me; it is part of my DNA.
My forefathers were engineers and ran the trains, but then scientists decoded the human genome and built the technology to create unfathomable cross bred machinery. At an early age, I showed the same aptitude as my father and grandfather, and my body became this joined beast of metal and skin, an nClass 21 diesel locomotive transporter unit.
It nourishes me and I guide it, and together we travel across the Australian landscape, supplying fuels and foodstuffs to the major cities. Merged, we separate only out of courtesy for the workers who have not grown accustomed to this interbreeding.
My smooth metallic panelling warms in the early morning sun, as the passengers board and shuffle for seats. Energy builds as my diesel engine heats, until I have the strength of a dozen machines. The hills will challenge my wheels and my axle yet again, but this will be the last time.
My final journey will begin in a matter of mere minutes.
Edition 19: All the Answers by Peter Medeiros
When her dreams of perfect scores and entry to college are ripped into teeny tiny shreds, Cassandra is not prepared to lie down and take it. She’s taking others down with her, she’s not going quietly… SY
When Cassandra opened her locker that morning, she saw her whole future disintegrating over the dim rectangular screen of a reader, and even a cursory look told her it was dead, gone, kaput. Her perfect GPA, her three, going on four, consecutive State-level victories with Debate Club, her four and a half minute mile, her summer internship as a lab assistant with Alden Alternative Technologies—she beat out a slew of college students for that one, or at least that’s what they told her—all of that was blown away in a second. All because of two words blinking at the top of the screen:
TEST ANSWERS
Edition 19: Book Review: Waistcoats and Weaponry by Gail Carriger
Reviewed by Mysti Parker
After a long wait, I finally got my hands on a copy of the third book in the Finishing School Series. Having been enchanted greatly with the first, and slightly less with the second, I was glad to discover that this was not the final book in the series. If it had been the last one, it would have been wholly unsatisfying, so with that in mind, I have to be a little more flexible with this review.
Edition 19: The Meet by Geoffrey Collins
This is the place where it will go down. Where back-up is not a precaution; it’s a requirement. Lines are drawn in the sand, in the face of oncoming darkness and despair. SY
In every evening there is a time when the city takes a stops to take a breath. The five o’clock exodus is over and the workers are home deciding what to be instead. Shop doors are closed and locked, streetlights blink on. As the tide of the day runs out, in the ebb of its last waves, you can find things that are always there but usually hidden.
I had found a neon sign with a name in Bauhaus script that pulsed red in the puddles on the sidewalk below. The sign fronted a bar, a sub-street level affair with a grey-stone office block squatting on top of it, a narrow courtyard in front with dwarf hemlocks in terracotta pots and some wrought iron settings with the sunshades dropped, chairs resting against the tables.
For a week I had been watching the place like a hunter in a blind, subsisting on coffee and bagels from the kosher delicatessen on the corner, skulking back to a bolt-hole hotel room before dawn. People came, people went; I watched. After a few days I had called for back-up, hoping I wouldn’t be thought overly cautious. When I saw who had been sent, I knew I needn’t have worried.
“You’ve become soft,” said a voice in my ear. “I could never have come up on you before.”
Edition 19: Riding a Runaway by Andrew Knighton
A runaway train hurtling toward the imperial palace. Dirk Dynamo and Timothy Blaze-Simms have to run the gauntlet of automated foot soldiers of a madman bent on vengeance. This pulp-fiction style steampunk was another finalist in 2014’s Story Quest competition. SY
Dirk Dynamo braced himself as the train roared towards him out of the darkness, the cacophony of its wheels and the harsh light from its lamps filling the tunnel. The air was thick with coal smoke and the smell of deep earth. He was tense, coiled, ready for action.
“What a splendid sound!” Timothy Blaze-Simms shouted to be heard.
“Get ready.” Dirk’s hand dropped instinctively to his belt. The reassuring cold steel of the Gravemaker was secure in its holster beneath his fur coat. Down here he was sweating like a Prussian in the sunshine, but he’d be glad of the warmth when they got back up into the Moscow snow.
Edition 18: Notes From the Editor
Here we are, 2015! The start of a brand new year, post the season of excess and indulgence, of families and functions (both the enjoyed and the difficult).
The funny thing about the holiday season is that while it can bring us together, it can also isolate us. Often, the spirit escapes us or never has a chance. Or perhaps, as some of us do, we appreciate that time, but require a little isolation to ground and centre ourselves. So in that, we bring you a collection you can embrace.
I think Christian Chatman’s piece for our cover captures that connection between the beauty and melancholy of loneliness. In that it is pure, and awful, yet magical—a simultaneous sensation. We’re very pleased to be able to showcase his work as our cover for this edition. And please, if you think it half as incredible as we do, pop on over to his website and look at his wonderful art.
SQ Mag 
