Blog Archives
Edition 3: Woman With Red Hair by Lawrence Buentello
Cassidy falls in love. If only he could remember the intimate moments he spends with her. Is he going insane or is there a more sinister reason for his black outs? SY
It was a Tuesday afternoon, and rain washed over the window before him. He knew it was Tuesday because his wristwatch told him so, but he had no sense of it. The rainstorm was actually quite beautiful, appearing before him like a sudden dream, but it wasn’t a dream. The faint pattering of the drops had wakened his senses to his presence in the room, the stale scent of closed spaces, the tingling in his hands as they gripped the arms of the chair. He didn’t remember–
Close your eyes and I’ll kiss them, she’d said—and now he sat in a chair before the large window in his apartment wondering how he’d spent the hours between that moment and this moment of perception. The rain obscured the reality of the city beyond the glass—his thoughts were no less convoluted. He realized he was hungry, as if he’d missed a meal. When he looked down at himself he saw that the soft silk shirt she’d caressed so sensually had transformed into a cotton polo. His pants and shoes were different, too, but he couldn’t recall changing his clothes.
Cassidy rose from the chair, found his cell phone and called her number. Then he closed the phone. What would he ask her?
Edition 3: The Raptor and the Lion by Larry Ivkovich
A centuries old battle exists between the Raptors and Lions. But these are the last of their kinds, tired of killing and the stench of death. Can such a powerful spell be broken and their peoples be freed? SY
Drunken Sacrifice
The Raptor Marceeka emerged from the shadows like a giant, demonic bird-of-prey. A long, pointed beak extended beneath glittering eyes; a thin, rangy body stood wrapped in voluminous, leathery wings.
She laughed to herself as she anticipated what the lone umana in the square was thinking. The wings—a cloak, of course; the beak—a long-nosed mask once worn by physicians during the Black Plague and thought to protect against the hideous outbreak. A very early morning Carnevale reveler, no doubt! Yes, even though the yearly festival was six weeks past, it was obvious the umana was drunk and would conjure up anything in his drink-befuddled mind to explain what he thought he was seeing.
Marceeka drifted back into the nighttime shadows cast by the Campanile, the tall bell-tower backlit against the full moon. The Piazza de San Marco was devoid of life at four in the morning. Even the ubiquitous pigeons that haunted every inch of the city were asleep at this hour. The umana, his heavy frame wobbly with drink, moved on, stumbling across the enormous stone-tiled square.
Edition 3: Ring Finger by John Claude Smith
In the wilderness, you do what it takes to survive. Cammie knows that better than anyone. But what that means you will have to read on to find out. SY
Cammie sucked hard on the rolled cigarette, the smoke threatening to warm her frigid innards, but failing.
The sky was bright and white and vast—infinite—though charcoal curled the distant edges.
Winter came and owned their souls. Took root in the marrow. Froze their dreams like arctic lakes that never thawed.
Ragged threads scratched spider-like at her fingertips, the home-made fingerless gloves meant to deter calluses on the palms, but the grip of flesh, of strong fingers, was deemed necessary to swing the axe.
Edition 3: The Observer by Hansen Hovell Holladay
From the other side of the glass, it always pays to be detached. What do you do when you feel for the object of your observation? A flash piece by Hanson Hovell Holladay gives a small insight in The Observer. SY
Gazing into the monitor’s screen, the Observer suddenly becomes uneasy. The woman below always rises with the sun, watching it grow in brightness throughout the morning hours. Only on this morning she does not appear. Those that encircle her life stir and pace about as though the day seems just as any other. Where is she? He thinks to himself. What’s wrong?
On the nearside of the planet’s natural satellite, invisible to the people that dwell below, the Observer scans the numerous monitors before him. Looking, he can see everyone and all they have created over time—everyone but her. She had been crying the day before, having emptied her sadness in isolation. With every tear she struggled to breathe, until exhaustion carried her into a deep slumber. He knows that she suffers from inner pain. What can I do? Why do you hurt? So much time thinking.
Edition 4: The Mermithergate Grin by S. Marston
There is very old magic in Africa that only the isangoma know. Lloyd, in his quest for science, discovers viruses can create astounding influence when used in a particular way. Lloyd’s work begins in pure curiosity, but even the best of intentions can be perverted. SY
Part 1
Before the NASDAQ and the dollar; before the Dutch took their first wind; before credit, paper, gold; this currency was traded and it was old even then.
In Africa, a ten dollar bill as the last page in your passport will get you across a border, but it will not sway the darkness. The original darkness. That one that was on the face of the abyss, at the beginning of all of this; for that entity, there is only one thing with which to trade. Now a goat’s blood will suffice as the price to remove a wart, or cure cramps. But for the big ticket items, for life or wealth, love or freedom, it won’t be a goat bleeding at your feet. The price takes the form of an organ. A small piece of someone. And that object, the soft tissue in itself is not the issue, but rather the act, the means, the bleeding. As was the lesson taught to Shakespeare’s merchant.
Edition 4: Halo In The Sky by Gerry Huntman
To raise his station, Nigel Taylor takes to the stars with the army. He returns a glorious hero, lauded by his countrymen. But will it win him the hand of the woman he loves or were his discoveries for naught? Many thanks to Gerry for donating this story, as we would love more steampunk, but we have not caught the attention of the market yet. SY
Three weeks following her return journey through the Alpha Centauri halo, the HMES Indomitable entered the Earth’s atmosphere. Slowly and precisely she exposed her antigravity coils, causing a reduction in the rate of her descent, allowing the ether ship to gracefully approach terra firma. The London-Berkshire region was covered in slate-grey rain clouds; the moisture gathered and glistened on the teakwood and brass finish of the giant ship in her approach for landing. Many of the Indomitable’s thick, glass portholes contained eager faces peering through them.
The giant conical ship silently descended towards the drenched green fields of the Sandhurst Military Etherdrome, her eight landing pads impressed upon the grass with a heavy thud. As the enormous weight of the ship settled on the pads, and the thick steel springs absorbed its enormous kinetic energy, the antigravity coils were fully covered with lead shielding, followed by the shutting down of power systems.
Edition 4: Down In The Ship Mines by Jay Lake
A great science fiction short by renowned writer Jay Lake. The women of the world once lived among the stars, but have been worn low by their unwanted masters. Their stories tell them their way back, but do they have the strength and knowledge to make their way back. SY
We work the ship mines like our mommas did before us. After we’re gone, our girls and grandgirls will be at their turns. We break our backs, a line of women stretching far across the fallen years, to keep something alive under the evil that lives in the night sky.
That something is hope.
~~~
Edition 4: Killing the Creation by Christopher Nadeau
Distraught over the death of his daughter, Franklin searches for a way to bring her back. When he cannot find what he seeks, or the answers, he places blame on the culprit—the creator. SY
Franklin’s final attempt at bringing his daughter back to life occurred on a steamy August night in Montana in a cave with a group of Satanists. He had reservations about people who claimed to follow the Devil, but God, if he existed, obviously took a big dump on Franklin when he took Grace away.
He watched with detached interest as Torquemada, the leader of these weirdos, plunged his short sword into a living goat’s flesh repeatedly while his followers chanted in what sounded like Latin; probably demon’s name or something ridiculous like that.
Torquemada lifted the dagger, now caked with the goat’s blood and chunks of its organs, and walked over to the pentagram he and his followers spent two days drawing on the cave floor.
Franklin’s mind screamed this was wrong, that it was time to let Grace go.
Edition 4: Sunflower by M.K. Charles
The end of the world approaches, and one little girl is slowly losing control of her body. Searching for the remnants of her mother’s history, she leaves her family behind for a greater desting. SY
The tree was over two thousand years old, the oldest, Obasan had told her, on the island of Honshu, perhaps in all of Japan. Its smooth, ashen trunk was as wide as Obasan’s house, its crown so high Saki had to jerk her head far back in her wheelchair to see it through the leaf canopy of the surrounding Bodhis.
When Obasan had first shown Saki the old tree, they had approached it from the cliff side. Now alone, Saki reassured herself that the ascent up the slope had not been too steep. Obasan had followed behind her, her hands on the back handles of the chair only a precaution as Saki deftly maneuvered her power chair by means of the sip-and-puff mouthstick specially designed by her father’s colleague at the observatory. She could make the trip on her own and get back before Obasan noticed she had gone, in plenty of time to welcome her father home after his year away, in time to enjoy her birthday dinner, the last dinner, if the announcement were true, they or anyone else was ever to have.
As she sat facing the door that stood in the back of the kitchen, a droplet of sweat curled down Saki’s cheek, settling just to the right of the corner of her mouth. She stretched and twisted her tongue to lick it off. It was hot late this afternoon and would only get hotter as the evening pressed on. More sweat would pour down her face and into her eyes and mouth, and there would be nothing she could do about it. She would just have to push through.
Edition 4: Toy by Gary McMahon
We are pleased to have this short from Gary McMahon, a successful dark horror writer from the UK. This story deals with what it means to do what others do because it is fashionable, but how you may not realise what it meant to you to begin with. Enjoy! SY
When my wife came back from the hospital with Toy, it took us both a short time to adjust to the changes in our routine.
I remember the day well. I was sitting in the conservatory, reading the daily news on my laptop, when I heard her come through the front door. I could sense the change immediately; there was something different about the air as she moved through it.
“I’m back,” she said, making a bit of a racket in the dining room behind me.
SQ Mag 
