I. That kid didn’t belong here. We all knew it from the moment he walked through the door at Rosalie’s, full of nerves and rage. If you belong, you never sport those two together. Everyone in Riverside knows that. It is a wise precaution to assume that anyone angry is also armed. The drinkers stopped …
Nothing to Fear, Nothing to Fear - Uncanny Magazine
Huda will ask again and again. She will ask it on the first night at the summer place, the porch steps creaking like an old-timey pirate’s ship beneath their knees. She will ask it when they see the Amelia Earhart house way down the harbor, a curled finger, creepy, shuttered-off, and full of promise. She …
It’s not often a city girl like me gets to haunt an ancestral home as summer dies. The Willows is less a swooning plantation estate and more like a calico cat, a farmhouse cobbled together of mismatched parts and sprawled out proudly among the fields and forests. Still, it’s romantic as hell, and I will …
“What’s your name, girl?” “Dust.” “Dust! What kinda people named they child Dust!” She sat in thought a moment, recalling what her wayfaring aunt she rarely saw told her to say whenever someone questioned her name, if she could remember it all. “It’s short for Dustdaughter…” “That’s a heavy name for a child.” “My daddy …
Val had lost hope. Routine carried her where hope had stopped: up the stairs to tend the lamp. Into the forest for wood, apples, berries, more rarely a deer or a grouse. Her stores of magic and wild rice came from the same place, though not from the same method: the smaller, murky inland lake, …
The spring she was thirteen, Annie taught herself to see dragons. She sat by the window in the hospital and looked out at the soft, strange Smoky Mountains, and the spreading gossamer haze that rose off them, and the white rucked clouds above. “I thought the old dragon was too mean to die,” herMonster Girls Don’t Cry - Uncanny Magazine
(Content Note for descriptions of sexual violence.) Your sister has too–large hands and too many teeth. Not in a sense that her gums are crowded or her fingers are long and she might have a career as a concert pianist. No, her hands are massive, thick–boned, tipped in wickedly sharp claws that shine like pearls. …
First came the murmurs. Then footsteps above our bedroom, where no feet should have been. Josh guessed we had squirrels in the attic. “I hope not,” I said, lying next to him the first night in our new rental. “Seeing as how we don’t have a key to the top floor. Anyway, it’s just the …When the Circus Lights Down - Uncanny Magazine
I considered declining the invitation. It was too weird, too expensive, too far, too dangerous, too weird. Way too weird. An invitation like that would never come again. I’d regret it if I didn’t go. It lay on our kitchen table for three weeks while I argued out the pros and cons with Mabel. ShUnder One Roof - Uncanny Magazine
First came the murmurs. Then footsteps above our bedroom, where no feet should have been. Josh guessed we had squirrels in the attic. “I hope not,” I said, lying next to him the first night in our new rental. “Seeing as how we don’t have a key to the top floor. Anyway, it’s just the …
Meeting with Your Legislators 101 and 201 - Uncanny Magazine
You’ve made your phone calls. You’ve rallied. You’ve begged for town halls. What else can you do? Your mission, should you choose to accept it: Make your legislators picture your face when they think about your issue. I’m here to walk you through meeting effectively with your representatives to the federal or state government. I …
You press the barrel of the Aegis-IV Longslide into your partner’s hole, and he spreads for you like he’s purpose-built for this very moment. Your spinal reinforcements are made to handle recoil, but you can feel the tension of him juddering up your arm as you hold him still, keeping him there,The Howling Detective - Uncanny Magazine
At his desk, Ken idled with a Polaroid picture and muttered a few confused curses. He had been staring at it for hours, finding something obvious and dismissing it as far too strange, refusing to appreciate it. “What’s that you lookin’ at there?” a coworker said over his shoulder. Ken turned it over and slid …
We are chaos. We are the teeth of dragons, shed like seeds. We look on your works, ye mighty, and we laugh. —Geoffrey Usborne Bryant “The Testimony of Dragon’s Teeth” I had known Geoffrey Usborne Bryant at school, so when I read of his death in the paper, I felt a chill. Only the chill …Pistol Grip - Uncanny Magazine
You press the barrel of the Aegis-IV Longslide into your partner’s hole, and he spreads for you like he’s purpose-built for this very moment. Your spinal reinforcements are made to handle recoil, but you can feel the tension of him juddering up your arm as you hold him still, keeping him there, keeping him under …
My best friend NPW has been collecting dogs from the side of the highway. He drives miles and miles each day with one eye to the shoulder, on the lookout for heaps of dark fur. Into black trash bags the blood-matted bodies go, and into the big plastic cooler he “liberated” from a summer huntingThe Testimony of Dragon’s Teeth - Uncanny Magazine
We are chaos. We are the teeth of dragons, shed like seeds. We look on your works, ye mighty, and we laugh. —Geoffrey Usborne Bryant “The Testimony of Dragon’s Teeth” I had known Geoffrey Usborne Bryant at school, so when I read of his death in the paper, I felt a chill. Only the chill …
“This green-gold city will embrace you/ Take you out of time and erase you/ And for one brief moment you will let her/ For one night only you’ll be hers” —Bess Morris, “For One Night Only,” 1924 The Ambassador Billiard Parlor, the Aeolian Hall, Our Metropolitan Madness Just before midnight on JLike a River Loves the Sky - Uncanny Magazine
My best friend NPW has been collecting dogs from the side of the highway. He drives miles and miles each day with one eye to the shoulder, on the lookout for heaps of dark fur. Into black trash bags the blood-matted bodies go, and into the big plastic cooler he “liberated” from a summer hunting …
Only idiots go back to the haunted houses of their childhood. And yet. Here you are. Standing on the sagging, weed-strangled front porch that hasn’t changed in twenty years. Every dip in the floorboards, every peeling strip of paint is exactly as you remember it. Time seems to have ricocheted oI Frequently Hear Music in the Very Heart of Noise - Uncanny Magazine
“This green-gold city will embrace you/ Take you out of time and erase you/ And for one brief moment you will let her/ For one night only you’ll be hers” —Bess Morris, “For One Night Only,” 1924 The Ambassador Billiard Parlor, the Aeolian Hall, Our Metropolitan Madness Just before midnight on January 3, 1924, Ira …
What drew me to her? It was the way she walked down the street that caught my eye, how people parted in her wake. It was the way she swayed, how the sun played off the velvet gleam of her exoskeleton. It was her glass-sharp grace, the snap-quick turn of her head that told you …And Yet - Uncanny Magazine
Only idiots go back to the haunted houses of their childhood. And yet. Here you are. Standing on the sagging, weed-strangled front porch that hasn’t changed in twenty years. Every dip in the floorboards, every peeling strip of paint is exactly as you remember it. Time seems to have ricocheted off this place. Except not …
I did not remember how I had gotten encased in a cherry tree. Though fragrant, this was inconvenient. It was much more tiring than you would expect, being entirely surrounded by tree. I tried to go to sleep, but the circumstances that had led me here were the only ones of which I could be …The Date - Uncanny Magazine
What drew me to her? It was the way she walked down the street that caught my eye, how people parted in her wake. It was the way she swayed, how the sun played off the velvet gleam of her exoskeleton. It was her glass-sharp grace, the snap-quick turn of her head that told you …
This is where the evening splits in half, Henry, love or death. Grab an end, pull hard, and make a wish. —Richard Siken, “Wishbone” A girl walks into a bar. She grabs her forehead and yells “motherFUCK” and the bar and everything around it except for the girl explodes in a blast that vaporizes Lines of Growth, Lines of Passage - Uncanny Magazine
I did not remember how I had gotten encased in a cherry tree. Though fragrant, this was inconvenient. It was much more tiring than you would expect, being entirely surrounded by tree. I tried to go to sleep, but the circumstances that had led me here were the only ones of which I could be …
… and this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. —Tennyson The check-in chime in his headset: on time, annoyingly on time, as usual, waking him as they came around the curve of Venus. “Aphrodite-1, this is Honolulu, do Your Slaughterhouse, Your Killing Floor - Uncanny Magazine
This is where the evening splits in half, Henry, love or death. Grab an end, pull hard, and make a wish. —Richard Siken, “Wishbone” A girl walks into a bar. She grabs her forehead and yells “motherFUCK” and the bar and everything around it except for the girl explodes in a blast that vaporizes half …
She still loves the dragon that set her on fire. The knight-errant who came seeking you prepared so carefully. She made herself whole for you. To be worthy of you. To be strong enough to reach you, where you live, so very high. She found the old wounds of her earlier errantry and of her …The Utmost Bound - Uncanny Magazine
… and this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. —Tennyson The check-in chime in his headset: on time, annoyingly on time, as usual, waking him as they came around the curve of Venus. “Aphrodite-1, this is Honolulu, do you read?” Faint washes …
It’s the time of year when people post their year-in-reviews to remind voters for the different SF/F awards what’s out there that they might have missed and which categories these stories are eligible in (especially for the Hugo Awards and Nebula Awards). 2018 was the fourth full year of UncannAn Account of the Land of Witches - Uncanny Magazine
1. An Account of the Land of Witches I arrived in the Land of Witches at the end of the season of furs. The sun shone, banks of chilly foam lay piled up in the streets, and the river emitted groans day and night as the ice broke into pieces, setting free the witches’ colorful …
Angelcorpse, Angelcorpse, bones hollowed and so slight; Angelcorpse, Angelcorpse, you ate the marrow bright. Boiled down your wings and sawed away your teeth; plucked your feathers softly and made yourself a wreath. Why do this, darling Angelcorpse? Why mutilate you so? Is it for another’s sighUncanny Magazine 2018 Award Eligibility - Uncanny Magazine
It’s the time of year when people post their year-in-reviews to remind voters for the different SF/F awards what’s out there that they might have missed and which categories these stories are eligible in (especially for the Hugo Awards and Nebula Awards). 2018 was the fourth full year of Uncanny Magazine (Issues 20 through 25, including the Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction …
Call me lamia, call me lilith, call me nightmare, slattern, slut. I don’t subscribe to labels. I’ve moved around, through many lives, and they’ve always invented new names for me. When I care to name myself, “succubus” does just fine. It started out as a joke among our little group, the girls wIf We Die Unjustified - Uncanny Magazine
Angelcorpse, Angelcorpse, bones hollowed and so slight; Angelcorpse, Angelcorpse, you ate the marrow bright. Boiled down your wings and sawed away your teeth; plucked your feathers softly and made yourself a wreath. Why do this, darling Angelcorpse? Why mutilate you so? Is it for another’s sight or is it for your woe? Angelcorpse, Angelcorpse, you …
“Grace,” the drunk fairy said, “is by far the best of the blessings.” She was drunk because her hostess, who herself had been blessed with hospitality—and a reasonably wealthy husband—had spent the months before her first child’s birth in a fever of preparations, determined to obtain at least oSucks (to Be You) - Uncanny Magazine
Call me lamia, call me lilith, call me nightmare, slattern, slut. I don’t subscribe to labels. I’ve moved around, through many lives, and they’ve always invented new names for me. When I care to name myself, “succubus” does just fine. It started out as a joke among our little group, the girls who have been …
The first time I see her, it’s just a glimpse. I’m standing in the inn’s common room and the other warriors straddle chairs and call for ale. While some reach for a serving wench or boy, cheeks to pinch, a life to grasp—my stomach growls a monster’s growl. I should be slain; the growl is …By Claw, By Hand, By Silent Speech - Uncanny Magazine
Authors Note: Where Garamond and Agency fonts are used, in italics, they are meant to represent American Sign Language. Where dialogue tags are used, it is meant to indicate orally spoken English. When I decided to study paleontology in college and graduate school, it was because the world of bones is silent. It was because …
Liverpool, Midsummer, 1763 When Satan himself came to Lolly, she didn’t recognize him. She wasn’t on her guard—hadn’t been for years. Why should she be? Her immortal soul had long since drowned in rum and rotted under gobs of treacle toffee. If any scrap was left, it was too dry and leathery toThe Cook - Uncanny Magazine
The first time I see her, it’s just a glimpse. I’m standing in the inn’s common room and the other warriors straddle chairs and call for ale. While some reach for a serving wench or boy, cheeks to pinch, a life to grasp—my stomach growls a monster’s growl. I should be slain; the growl is …
October. Our animals, they know. Way before we do. Ever since we entered the Zone of Exclusion, she’s been uneasy. For me, it’s paradise. No people. Stores full of stuff. Apartment doors standing open, radios still on. One morning months ago a caravan of trucks showed up, ordering everybody outThe Emigrants’ Guide to Oregon, California, and the Unknown - Uncanny Magazine
The Miller Diaries Author(s): Donna K. Gibson Source: Journal of Anthropological Research, Vol. 123, No. 4 (Winter, 2069), pp. 223-242 Published by: University of New Mexico The following are excerpts from the diary of Elias J. Miller, a previously unknown member of the ill-fated Donner Party. Donated to the National Historical Society earlier this year, …
I am hunting for my lover’s bones in the desert. Proper women do not splay out their legs, but there’s no sitting side-saddle on a Mongolian camel. My skirts are hitched high up my knees, but I am at an age where men won’t look twice at a bare stretch of calf or pale flash …Red Lizard Brigade - Uncanny Magazine
October. Our animals, they know. Way before we do. Ever since we entered the Zone of Exclusion, she’s been uneasy. For me, it’s paradise. No people. Stores full of stuff. Apartment doors standing open, radios still on. One morning months ago a caravan of trucks showed up, ordering everybody out of a two-hundred-kilometer circle of …
The precinct’s interrogation room had the same atmosphere as all such rooms: stale coffee mixed with flop sweat and the tang of blood. There were no windows, and the cliched one-way mirror was replaced by hologram cameras that transmitted an exact 3D replica of proceedings into a room of detectBones in the Rock - Uncanny Magazine
I am hunting for my lover’s bones in the desert. Proper women do not splay out their legs, but there’s no sitting side-saddle on a Mongolian camel. My skirts are hitched high up my knees, but I am at an age where men won’t look twice at a bare stretch of calf or pale flash …
I gotta tell you, as a puppet life sucks. I mean, cartoon characters got it easy. They don’t have to deal with five-fingered monsters crawling all over them or being nailed to the floor. Or dying. I was talking with old Scoobster the other day. Once you get past the doggy speak, he’s pretty cleGive the People What They Want - Uncanny Magazine
The precinct’s interrogation room had the same atmosphere as all such rooms: stale coffee mixed with flop sweat and the tang of blood. There were no windows, and the cliched one-way mirror was replaced by hologram cameras that transmitted an exact 3D replica of proceedings into a room of detectives and lawyers. But the single …
Once upon a time, long, long, long, long, long, long, ago, there were three raptor sisters, hatched beneath a lucky star. They lived in a wood together, they stole sheep and cattle together, and all in all, there was no tighter-knit hunting pride of matriarchal dromaeosauridae between the mountNails in My Feet - Uncanny Magazine
I gotta tell you, as a puppet life sucks. I mean, cartoon characters got it easy. They don’t have to deal with five-fingered monsters crawling all over them or being nailed to the floor. Or dying. I was talking with old Scoobster the other day. Once you get past the doggy speak, he’s pretty clear. …
Paranormal