Search the Strange Horizons Archives

Search

for pieces titled or by

Sort my results

Optional:
Restrict my search by category:

Displaying 27 results:

Love Goes Begging (part 2 of 2), by Bennet H. Marks (4/24/06): Fiction.; Following the usual friendly preliminaries, I began to render service unto his urgently upright staff. Let me not suggest that this is an onerous task.
Love Goes Begging (part 1 of 2), by Bennet H. Marks (4/17/06): Fiction.; "Cupid! What a delightful surprise!" His wings had shrunk to quantum fluctuations, and his teeth were yellowed and cracked, like Scrabble tiles in some ancient runic language—Lemurian, or Old Norse.
The Disappearance of James H___, by Hal Duncan (6/13/05): Fiction.; In his white breeches and shirt open to the waist but still tucked in, he looks like some prince kidnapped by pirates to serve as cabin boy.
Close To You, by Meghan McCarron (4/18/05): Fiction.; When I first got here, the words came difficultly. People would ask questions. Questions! They'd ask me what I wanted. I'm telling you what I want. The woman in my thoughts. Can't you see her?
La Malcontenta, by Liz Williams, illustration by Emily Tolson (3/7/05): Fiction.; In the centre of Winterstrike, Mars' first city, in the middle of the meteorite crater that gave the city its name, stands the fortress: a mass of vitrified stone as white as a bone and as red as a still-beating heart.
Into Something Rich and Strange, by Barth Anderson (11/29/04): Fiction.; As soon as I realized that the rapacious, rot-sucking revenant would not stop till I was dead, I changed my phone number. I changed the locks on my windows, my doors, I let my beard grow out, and I changed—
Time's Swell, by Victoria Somogyi and Kathleen Chamberlain (11/15/04): Fiction.; Sometimes she tells me that she met me here, six months ago, that she knows nothing about my past. And then there are the days when she tells me that we've traveled through time, that we have come from the future and are trapped here. She tells me that she was a temporal scientist, that I was her project. Those are the bad days.
Hold Tight, by Gavin J. Grant (8/23/04): Fiction.; —When the world was young, one of them said, we played with you. We were friends, great friends. I was young, you were young, maybe you don't remember me? We played Red Rover, Leviathan chasing Giant Squid, high tig, rainbows and sunbeams, hide and seek, tops and bottoms, forts and castles. Those were good days. Do you remember yet?
Crossing Borders, by Tom Doyle (8/9/04): Fiction.; Her most controversial feature was her face: the face of a precocious, prurient child, the kind of face that made the most innocent of lollipops look naughty. All the genders with a taste for human females found her repellent and irresistible at the same time.
Alone in the House of Mims, by Barth Anderson (4/26/04): Fiction.; "Your celebrity impressions are hilarious," said Wyhoff, smiling. "I love your Dick Cheney as Lon Chaney as Wolfman eating the senator. Nicely layered. Each imitation distinct."
The Grammarian's Five Daughters, by Eleanor Arnason (3/29/04): Fiction.; The mother thought for a while, then produced a bag. "In here are nouns, which I consider the solid core and treasure of language. I give them to you because you're the oldest. Take them and do what you can with them."
Genderbending at the Madhattered, by Kameron Hurley (2/23/04): Fiction.; By the end of the night, we were always drunk. Page and Nib would be yelling about whose turn it was to be male in their ongoing adolescent opera, and Rule would be wearing a dress, illegally.
Living with the Harpy, by Tim Pratt (10/27/03): Fiction.; Living with the harpy presented certain difficulties. Her feathers clogged the shower drain, and the smell of unsavory meats cooked over chemical fires drifted from her room. She screamed profanity sometimes, with obvious glee. I occasionally found drowned mice in the coffeemaker.
The Riverbed of the World, by B. C. Holmes (6/23/03): Fiction.; "Suppose you were me," Kolay said to Galla, "and a foreigner came to you to ask why there are transsexuals in the world. What would you say?"
Air, Water, and Road, by Aynjel Kaye (2/24/03): Fiction.; They're bus pirates. You don't mess with bus pirates.
Poison (part 2 of 2), by Beth Bernobich (1/27/03): Fiction.; "I think it's because of the needles. If he didn't bother to use clean ones. . . ."
Poison (part 1 of 2), by Beth Bernobich (1/20/03): Fiction.; Our keepers, the scientists, had used complicated words like metamorphosis and hormones and camouflage to explain us. We could turn invisible, they'd said. We could change from male to female and back. Survival adaptations, they'd called it. I wondered if what Yenny did was for our survival.
The Swordsman Whose Name Was Not Death, by Ellen Kushner (11/11/02): Fiction.; St. Vier stopped before the front door; in the recessed entryway, there was a flash of white. Cautiously he drew his sword and advanced.
Unspeakable, by M. C. A. Hogarth, illustration by M. C. A. Hogarth (11/4/02): Fiction.; None of them were comfortable tales, and most of them were edloña, unspeakable, unthinkable. Why I returned, I could not say.
Miss Parker Down the Bung, by Kate Bachus (3/25/02): Fiction.; Jenkins was a fierce free climber, for a digger. Likeden they'd have made her a rift scout, or even a survey crewman, hadn't it been for the trouble on that deep drop some time ago.
Water, Green River, Daybreak, by Sarah Prineas (10/8/01): Fiction.; "Witch magic is for girls. A boy with talent studies with a warlock. Different techniques, different spells, different purposes."
The Anthvoke (Part 2 of 2), by Steve Berman (7/16/01): Fiction.; I remember when she was all I ever thought about. When I would call her three times during the day just so I could hear her voice.
The Anthvoke (Part 1 of 2), by Steve Berman (7/9/01): Fiction.; "Anyone other than an anthvoke would want something from me in return. Anthvokes aren't interested in flesh." She tugged at the front of her sweat-stained tank top, briefly revealing the butterfly tattoo over her petite breasts. "Do you really want to share me with someone else?"
Going Once, by Mark Rudolph (6/18/01): Fiction.; No matter how hard Aaron tried, he couldn't ignore the day he dreaded most: the day Darren's body would be auctioned off, piece by piece, to the highest bidder.
Desert Scene with Blue Female, by Ramon Arjona (3/12/01): Fiction.; Cyan's long sapphire hair ran down over her naked azure body. Her delicate blue hands moved gently between the branches of the low shrubs, as if she were searching for something.
Last Call in Temperance, by Alan DeNiro (2/19/01): Fiction.; I fished the whiskey out of my pack, took a hot swig, and considered Sonny's dead body sprawled on my tomato-red couch.
The Fen-Queen's Bride, by P. K. Graves, illustration by Bill Reames (2/5/01): Fiction.; "You are so mean and stubborn and ugly that I will curse you for it. Each time you open your mouth, a horrible insect or an ugly swamp creature will drop from it."

All material in Strange Horizons is copyrighted to the original authors and may not be reproduced without permission. Violators will be prosecuted.