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Edition 11: The Poet and the Lily by Julia August
A foreigner in the Isles, returning. They leave her to herself, in the place where there was plague, except the young poet. She is happy in her solitude but he seeks her out. There is a value to politeness and leaving well enough alone. SY
She came back to the Isles in the spring mist. She was left on a pebble beach by a ship from the south, which sailed off without even stopping to resupply. A nearby fishing village took her in for a week, after which she went quietly away and the next anyone heard was that she had made a home in what remained of a hamlet abandoned a hundred years ago or more. And there had been plague there, so no one cared to visit, although she did come back to barter southern coins for food.
Eventually people stopped caring. Foreigners were all mad anyway. Who knew why any of them did anything?
~~~
The stream was the same, clear water spilling foam-flecked between brown stepping stones. There were foxgloves still, and green hollows below undercut banks, and here and there the bronze of dead leaves shed by the beech trees coming into their spring growth. Mist crept like a white ghost over the grass.
Edition 11: Rabble by Arley Sorg
Soldiers are drawn from the incarcerated to fight against the fast and bloodthirsty Trayg that threaten to overwhelm their world. When they offer them advantage in the form of upgrades, the prisoners would be fools to reject any help. In the war against invasion, isn’t any advantage worth testing? SY
Darrin shifted in his bunk, struggled against coarse blankets. Sleep teased the corners of his eyes. Thick drowsiness crept under his skin.
She pooled, bright white and red, a head splitting star in congealed blackness.
Slick moonlight beaded in her hair, blood drops bright on her blouse. Her last, surprised breath as she crumpled in his arms.
One night six years ago. A night he used to not care about. It wasn’t even the worst he’d done.
He swung his feet onto cold floor, planted his sweaty face in his hands.
Edition 11: Serial Fiction: Intangible (Part 6 of 6) by A. A. Garrison
The end has come. All Hack’s machinations hang on this moment. All Jeannie Tuttle can think about is her mother, dying in the sterile hospital bed. How will it all end? SY
Man – Energy Body – Aura (Copyright Deosum | Dreamstime.com)
IX. March, 1990
Hack hangs over the hospital bed, spectating, unseen. The subject’s mother lies motionless, her bleak aura reflecting her health. The subject herself kneels before the woman, that jade energy pulsing brilliantly. Her cries upset the nether, like cartoon lightning bolts rising from a wound.
Waiting patiently in his secret space, Hack studies her burning aura, the love pulsing there, ripe as a honeydew: she is ready for harvest. All that lies between him and the energy is a psychic barrier: Free Will, a wall impenetrable by even the mightiest magician. But that will soon be no more, and of her own volition.
Edition 10: Serial Fiction: Intangible (Part 5 of 6) by A. A. Garrison
Meet Marcy Dillsmore, and her strange relationship with the Utah Penny. GDH
Man – Energy Body – Aura (Copyright Deosum | Dreamstime.com)
Enter Marcy Dillsmore.
Born Marcy Darby in the faceless year of 1951, the woman lived a mundane childhood, completed a mundane education, and, at eighteen, married a young man by the name of Franklin Maurice Dillsmore III, who, despite his grandiloquent title, was, also, quite mundane. Her defining moment was placing second in the ’69 Miss Georgia pageant. She should have won, would have—the white tramp who took the trophy had hips like a bent trashcan—but the night before, she’d developed a grade-A case of bad hair. Terrible hair, in fact, bride-of-Frankenstein bad. But the woman refused to let it bitter her, even as she settled into a mundane middle-age. Marcy couldn’t complain. She may have put on a few pounds—twenty-two and three-quarters, but who’s counting?—and developed a pie-shaped office-butt, but she was still beautiful, and Frank did a fine job of reinforcing that fact. Her chestnut eyes, unblemished skin, and selfsame hair combined into a comely, uniform complexion; when in the nude, Frank often commented that she resembled a human chocolate bar (always followed by double entendres involving “eating” and “melting”). Her two children, Kyle and Tia, also helped her steer clear of the funks so common to midlife. Between a supportive husband, two wonderful children, and the uncommon extension of her beauty, Marcy Dillsmore found life full and rewarding, if as mundane as the preceding seasons of her existence. Like a certain motorcycle thief who had lived and died far outside her experience, she felt she couldn’t lose.
Edition 9: Serial Fiction: Intangible (Part 4 of 6) by A. A. Garrison
Hack’s machinations continue to influence Jeannie’s life. She seeks to help her mother’s failing health with her radio prize money. As an aside, we follow the strange existence of a Utah penny… GDH
Man – Energy Body – Aura (Copyright Deosum | Dreamstime.com)
VII. January, 1990
The hospital was in Pemberton, Ford’s sister town. The doctor dimpled in smile, and shook Jeannie’s hand.
“I’m Doctor Mills. How do you do, Miss Tuttle?” he asked robotically. He was middle-aged and small—not so much short, just insubstantial. Like a sandwich missing the meat, Jeannie thought.
Edition 8: Serial Fiction: Intangible (Part 3 of 6) by A. A. Garrison
Hack’s machinations are wrapping Jeannie in an ever-tighter net. Her nights and days are full of Lincoln. She recalls her ingracious return to North Carolina, and the slimy events that preceded it. With her mother sickening, surely she’s had enough bad luck, unless that shaman is involved. SY
Man – Energy Body – Aura (Copyright Deosum | Dreamstime.com)
V. November, 1989
Night in the Tuttle household.
Hack hovers over the sleeping girl, impregnating her with a fresh dreamscape involving Abraham Lincoln. She stirs some as it finds purchase, but remains asleep, her aura pulsing as the dream unfolds, her face mutely quizzical in the way of the sleeping. The shaman leaves her for her mother.
Edition 7: Serial Fiction: Intangible (Part 2 of 6) by A. A. Garrison
In the last episode of Intangible, Hack the shaman had picked his target. His mark is a young woman, Jeannie Tuttle. He now begins to dabble in her everyday life, placing cues in the unseen movements of his grand plot. SY
Man – Energy Body – Aura (Copyright Deosum | Dreamstime.com)
III. September 11th, 1989
Jeannie knows she’s dreaming. It’s an inherent knowledge, like how to lie. She distantly wonders if she can manipulate her dream, steer it, but this proves impossible: it sprouts strange legs and runs, moving with the scripted adamance of a kabuki play.
It’s daytime and beautiful, concrete below a sunshot sky, people thronged along a cordoned street. In the distance, snare drums and a pan flute play “Yankee Doodle.” Good cheer lifts every face, a flag for every hand. The Fourth of July?
Edition 6: Serial Fiction: Intangible (Part 1 of 6) by A. A. Garrison
In part one, we meet Hack, a shaman who deals in intangibles. He can acquire what it is you need. His customer lives behind a mask in a chequered castle. The most important task: to make his mark. SY
Man – Energy Body – Aura (Copyright Deosum | Dreamstime.com)
I. September 7th, 1989
The shaman is named Hack, and he does not work for free.
He leans alongside an empty guardhouse beside a great gate, awaiting his client’s dispatch. The hilly countryside lies pastorally still, so much a postcard. His wintry hair reaches in the breeze, bald pate white with sun. A tattered overcoat mimics his hair, lifting in identical pattern. His appearance suggests nothing of a miracle worker.
Edition 12: The Bridge of Lok-Altor by Daniel Ausema
Long cut off from the outside world, the peaceful island of Lok-Altor has stagnated. When a stranger comes to town, the people of Lok-Altor must face long-ingrained fears to save themselves. SY
Pescal dangled a fishing line into one of the eddies that formed along the cobbled river edge. He breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of fish and the sharp taste of salt that came across the island of Lok-Altor from the sea. The ruined pillars of the ancient bridge seemed to shake in the sun-reflecting water. Here he could relax, forget about pretty girls named Sari—not that there could ever be more than one with that name, not for him—about a father losing himself in memories, about a sister who was convinced she would never marry.
The fish in these pools were strange creatures—unlike those caught in the nets—but they allowed his family occasional luxuries: a shark-tooth necklace for his sister, a drizzle of royal honey for his mother.
Edition 12: Black Smoker Hero by Rachael Acks
Javier Burtke, miner on a distant world stumbles on a discovery that may change how the world sees the ‘smokers’, the black fields of smoking crevices. This is one area in which he cannot fail again. Rachael Acks was runner-up for the Story Quest competition, and undoubtedly you will see why this great frontier science fiction caught our attention. SY
-begin transcript-
Video log: 04.10.52 1859
The room is plain and small, walls gunmetal gray but partially papered with safety notices, reminders about proper compression procedures, suit checks, what to do in case of hull breach. A man looks into the camera, one rough hand rasping at the black stubble on his square jaw. His hair is in damp, lank curls, glistening with something more viscous than water. The stained name tape over the left breast pocket of his rumpled lime green jumpsuit has ‘Javier Burtke’ stitched into it.
SQ Mag 
