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Bull of Heaven, by Gabriel Murray (7/25/16)
Fiction.
Francis was fifteen years of age when he met Lord Masashige, and an hour old when he took holy orders and dedicated himself to Christ.
Her Sacred Spirit Soars, by S. Qiouyi Lu (7/18/16)
Fiction.
You bear our weight on your leg; when you tire, I bear our weight on mine. We work our two eyes together.
Water, Birch, and Blood, by Sara Norja (7/11/16)
Fiction.
Kristian is fidgeting and asks the dreaded and inevitable question for the umpteenth time. "Mummy, Ma, are we there yet?" "Almost there, sweetpea," says Maarit, sharing a grimace with me. I’m concentrating on remembering precisely which wooded path it is that leads to my family’s summer cabin. Sometimes it feels like the forest changes . . . .
Sweet Marrow, by Vajra Chandrasekera (7/4/16)
Fiction.
At first, the murder is universally mistaken for a run-of-the-mill political assassination.
Meltwater, by Benjamin C. Kinney (3/14/16)
Fiction.
My lover waits for me in the flooded church. She's died one time too many, and I can't get her back without her help. At least, at last, it gives me a reason to see her again.
Bodies Are the Strongest Conductors, by James Robert Herndon (9/21/15)
Fiction.
On the wall above our sofa, there’s a graph that Mom drew on butcher paper. It charts the rising metal levels in my bloodstream, which she carefully measures every night. Lumpy began finger-painting on the graph with the polish, and he turned yesterday’s spike into an adult penis. “That’s awesome,” I said, my stomach roiling as if he’d painted it on my skin.
Beyond Sapphire Glass, by Margaret Killjoy (8/10/15)
Fiction.
We told you what we told every pilgrim: if your health wasn't bad, you had to stay with us a year before we'd lead you into the depths, before an angel would show you to the sapphire gate. Before we'd let you upload your mind, before we'd incinerate your body.
What We're Having, by Nathaniel Lee (6/15/15)
Fiction.
I want to do right by you, Frankie, even if I’m crazy and it means I’m wasting five bucks. I don’t want you to have cooked imaginary bacon.
Utrechtenaar (Part 2 of 2), by Paul Evanby (6/8/15)
Fiction.
In his carriage, riding slowly through the countryside just outside the city, the old baron mutters what he wants me to do, and what his driver is going to pay me afterwards. He turns around and pulls aside his justaucorps. I make as if to oblige, but instead I lay my hand over his mouth, push him into the cushions and whisper: “I don’t want money.” He struggles, but not very hard. He is used to this game. Gently I pull off his wig, exposing a blotched pate. I can feel his surprise. “I want information.”
Utrechtenaar (Part 1 of 2), by Paul Evanby (6/1/15)
Fiction.
The watchman’s lantern moves in my direction, bobbing slowly. Suddenly I am rigid with panic, unsure where to go, certain I cannot stay here. I have visions of being arrested and interrogated, having to face the incredulous looks of my friends, the disapproving gazes of my professors.
The Ticket Taker of Cenote Zaci, by Benjamin Parzybok (2/2/15)
Fiction.
He had a good memory for faces, and a good mind for numbers, Eduardo did. He lined up the torn stubs from the day’s sales. When a tourist exited he threw the stub away. Inside he had carefully placed six torn ticket stubs against the back edge of the desk. These tourists had not returned.
Nkásht íí, by Darcie Little Badger (12/15/14)
Fiction.
A ghost is a terrible thing. Someday, we will all be terrible things.
Because I Prayed This Word, by Alex Dally MacFarlane (10/27/14)
Fiction.
I saw a city, Perrette longs to say. The most incredible city. I want to step under its gleaming gold roofs and I want you to step alongside me—
Witch, Beast, Saint: an Erotic Fairy Tale, by C. S. E. Cooney (7/21/14)
Fiction.
I could’ve changed him back. The transformation spell would take research, focus, a not inconsiderable outpouring of stored magic, but in the end, it was entirely doable. Thing was, I rather liked my monster as a monster.
Sarah's Child, by Susan Jane Bigelow (5/19/14)
Fiction.
Once, I dreamed that I had a son named Sheldon, and my grief tore a hole in the fabric of the world.
Pavlov's House, by Malcolm Cross (4/21/14)
Fiction.
The brothers should not have set that revolutionary alight and thrown him from what was left of the third floor, but the revolutionaries did not fucking understand that they would never take the brothers out of the house, alive or dead, because the brothers were dogs who had been genetically engineered to kill human beings more quickly and efficiently than even the biowarfare agents could.
Event Horizon, by Sunny Moraine (10/21/13)
Fiction.
Can you starve a house? I asked Zhan once, and he just spat tobacco at me and smirked. It was a stupid question and I know that now. Of course you can starve a house. You can starve anything that’s alive.
Three on a Match, by Steve Berman (10/14/13)
Fiction.
"I know a trick," the Antony whispered.  Ewan leaned in closer. "A magic trick?" "There's no other worth knowing." He handed the cigarette over. "Do you want to see it?"
Red Matty (Part 2 of 2), by Nisi Shawl (9/30/13)
Fiction.
Now Baby Boo's plan seemed stupider than ever. Betty made up her mind. She pawed Gray Hawk's leg for attention. "Listen, I need to break a promise I shoulda never made."
Red Matty (Part 1 of 2), by Nisi Shawl (9/23/13)
Fiction.
She found the cat there, lying on the warm, shiny bottom of an upturned wheelbarrow. Baby Boo was the first modded animal Betty had made friends with. "I got a feelin," Betty announced. "That Matty one of us."
Difference of Opinion, by Meda Kahn (9/9/13)
Fiction.
Problem is Keiya's brain never told her to paste her lips upright if she wants people to be nice. It's the IQ machine. She's been told she'd make a very good robot, all things considered.
A Plant (Whose Name is Destroyed), by Seth Dickinson (8/19/13)
Fiction.
Naveen's boyfriend is now certainly a god.
Complicated and Stupid, by Charlie Jane Anders (8/5/13)
Fiction.
The doctor was a gray-haired woman with a tongue piercing and a faded bluebird tattoo on one exposed forearm. She wore a white coat over a lacy halter top and hotpants. She kept looking down Benjamin's throat with a penknife as if his malaise could be pharyngeal.
The Siren, by Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam (4/15/13)
Fiction.
She thought of the ocean, and suddenly she felt a longing for it. She saw herself wading into patches of light, into the crisp foam like her father's shaving cream.
Dysphonia in D Minor, by Damien Walters Grintalis (1/21/13)
Fiction.
There were buildings in the capitol city said to be her creations, towering things of arches and alcoves, rooms that swallowed up every sound, every heartbeat.
Selkie Stories Are for Losers, by Sofia Samatar (1/7/13)
Fiction.
I hate selkie stories. They�re always about how you went up to the attic to look for a book, and you found a disgusting old coat and brought it downstairs between finger and thumb and said �What�s this?�, and you never saw your mom again.
The Death of the Duke, by Ellen Kushner (7/30/12)
Fiction.
A little later, he sighed in his sleep, and spoke the name of his first wife, while he held her. She felt her heart twist and turn over, close to the child she carried, so that there was room for little inside her but pain and love.
Feed Me the Bones of Our Saints (part 2 of 2), by Alex Dally MacFarlane (7/16/12)
Fiction.
It is beautiful. It catches Jiresh, so bright a green and covered in the tales of Nishir and Aree, carved in the shapes of stone-stories and tail-stories.
Feed Me the Bones of Our Saints (part 1 of 2), by Alex Dally MacFarlane (7/9/12)
Fiction.
Once, we knew more stories than there were stars to follow and admire at night. We wrote them in the desert for fun. What we have lost since that time is immeasurable.
Comes the Huntsman, by Rachael Acks (7/2/12)
Fiction.
I was never brave or mad enough to fly from a bridge. I should never have been mad enough to eat that apple.
The Gods of Reorth, by Elizabeth A. Lynn (4/30/12)
Fiction.
Jael remembered years of famine, of drought, of blight. Once she had sent a plague. It had hurt, watching the inexorable processes of disease and death sweep over her people. She had not asked reasons for that.
Beneath Impossible Circumstances, by Andrea Kneeland (4/16/12)
Fiction.
Analise wants to have a baby. A real baby. I tell her that if we had a baby together, it would be a real baby. It would be a real baby and it would have parts from both of us, and it would be a real person made from both of our genes.
Nightfall in the Scent Garden, by Claire Humphrey (3/5/12)
Fiction.
You'll start to understand none of these things happened the way you remember. If you read this, you'll learn how I betrayed you.
The Chastisement of Your Peace, by Tracy Canfield (1/30/12)
Fiction.
"Midnight Cruiser abducted the president of the American Psychological Association and fed him to her pet hyena," said Jenny. "Oh my God, she is awesome."
Recognizing Gabe: un cuento de hadas, by Alberto Yáñez (1/16/12)
Fiction.
When I was twelve, my hada madrina came to visit. My fairy godmother hadn't come to see us since my baptism, so I didn't even know her except from the stories, like the one about cousin Tomasita and the goat who could play f�tbol.
Bleaker Collegiate Presents an All-Female Production of Waiting for Godot, by Claire Humphrey (7/18/11)
Fiction.
It's only in hindsight that I realize why I started spending time in the smoke-hole in the first place. So many of the things we do, we keep from ourselves.
The Peacock, by Ted Infinity and Nabil Hijazi (7/11/11)
Fiction.
"No HA HA not at all I am just making a joke. Please ignore my last two extremely suspicious metaphors. No need to contact authorities. No need to send your bank account information."
The Thick Night, by Sunny Moraine (5/2/11)
Fiction.
She doesn't look at it the whole way home. She doesn't know how to look at it: you look at a person one way, and a thing another way, and the two are not the same.
Items Found in a Box Belonging to Jonas Connolly, by Laura E. Price (4/18/11)
Fiction.
A woman swung toward us out of the sky on a knotted rope, a pistol in her free hand. The ocean roared around us; the hull sunk away from underneath us; my mother's grip on me shifted and tightened around my waist. "Hold tight," our rescuer said to us.
Pinion, by Stellan Thorne (1/17/11)
Fiction.
"I was robbed by an angel last night."
Zookrollers Winkelden Ook, by Tracy Canfield (12/13/10)
Fiction.
Jason Fischer-Varon hated to block email from his dead husband, but he was getting over a hundred of them a day, and they were breaking his heart.
Seven Sexy Cowboy Robots, by Sandra McDonald (10/4/10)
Fiction.
When I was a much younger woman, as part of the divorce settlement from my then-millionaire inventor husband, I asked for our house in Connecticut, a modest amount of alimony, and six sexy cowboy robots. Sentient sex toys, if you will.
Ghost of a Horse Under a Chandelier, by Georgina Bruce (8/9/10)
Fiction.
It's easy to lose the Book because it's always changing. There isn't an author's name on the cover. And every time Zillah opens the Book it's different. Everything is different, even the title. Today, it starts like this.
How to Make Friends in Seventh Grade, by Nick Poniatowski (6/21/10)
Fiction.
We knew that our stupid model rockets wouldn't be able to reach the Watchers, and she knew that we knew. But Mrs. Hildegaard had taught kindergarten for fifteen years before teaching science at East Junior High, and old habits die hard. So she gave us our assignment with the conceit that our spray-painted tubes of cardboard would somehow have enough force to break through Earth's atmosphere and grab the Watchers' attention.
The Night Train, by Lavie Tidhar (6/14/10)
Fiction.
Her name wasn't Molly and she didn't wear shades, reflective or otherwise.
Ms. Liberty Gets a Haircut, by Cat Rambo (10/26/09)
Fiction.
"If you're going to be our leader, you need to look like you haven't time-travelled here from the 20th century," Dr. Arcane grumbles to Ms. Liberty. "You may have been built with the blueprints from the Stepford wives, but you don't have to keep looking like one."
Lily Glass, by Veronica Schanoes (4/27/09)
Fiction.
The girl is gone from the castle and her stepmother wanders the corridors. Here is another way of saying the same thing: the girl wanders the corridors, but her stepdaughter is nowhere to be found.
Diana Comet (Part 2 of 2), by Sandra McDonald (3/9/09)
Fiction.
Diana had held jewels and diamond crowns; she wasn't impressed by an oval of copper and scrap inscribed with a seal and three-digit number. Things men held dear never ceased to amaze her. Dutifully she said, "It's quite lovely."
Diana Comet (Part 1 of 2), by Sandra McDonald (3/2/09)
Fiction.
Miss Harvegstraem tilted her head. "Let me guess. A handsome visitor, both well spoken and highly educated. Scion of some wealthy family. He came to you in the cover of darkness, promising sweetness and fidelity, stealing your hard-protected virtue."
Up In the Air, by Richard Larson (11/24/08)
Fiction.
"This doesn't have to be awkward," he said as we stood in line, boarding passes in hand. I almost laughed, but instead I regarded him soberly, or as soberly as I could considering the martini, the tequila shots, and our spontaneous rendezvous in the airport's public restroom.
Just After Midnight, by Christie Skipper Ritchotte (10/20/08)
Fiction.
He thinks there's a reset button: that people can die and start back at level one. He thinks Laura will walk through the door any minute now.
Sex with Ghosts, by Sarah Kanning (8/18/08)
Fiction.
Sex. All those complications, all that messiness. It's like watching a group of enthusiasts really get into a hobby that you don't share.
Running, by Benjamin Crowell (6/9/08)
Fiction.
"In this situation we give you a two-week emergency air stipend, but it's intentionally set so low that you can't really live on it. Frontier here, can't afford to support people who aren't contributing. You'll need to find some way to make up the gap."
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."