Down south, just over the threshold of the tropics, winter is marked by raising of tasteful stringlights. They spiral up the neutered Coconut palms and light the Spanish Revival shopping malls, where tidy women with manicures buy whatever they want …

PodCastle 544: Waters of Versailles — Part 3

Funny how it’s always the teeth. On the news, I mean. Or CSI, one of the two. After all the hopeful posters and the tearful parents and the trawls of woods and the charred remains. After all is said and done, I suppose. After all of that, there’s st…

It is not a good day. They wheel me to the Alzheimer’s unit, the scaly anteater rolled up in a basket next to me. For a while I don’t even look at it, I’m so incensed. via Pocket

I pushed the little girl on the rope swing, guessing she couldn’t be more than seven, knowing she was my mother. The swing groaned as it arced forward, then back, the rope twisting against the bough of the mulberry tree. via Pocket

I was just trying to boxtroll that asshole into quitting, like I’d gotten the two guys before him to do. I swear I wasn’t trying to get him all dead and shit. It wasn’t my box that did it. via Pocket

Janelle looked on, in disbelief. If it helped any, most of my stuff was neatly stacked on anti-grav, transparent, shielded storage units. Units that could be held immovable in stasis or moved with the lightest touch or by anyone with the slightest t…

When the intercom on his desk buzzed, Marc’s head snapped up, instantly awake. He’d been dozing in his chair. His finger stabbed the button that told the boss he was on his way. He stood up and straightened his rumpled gray suit before glancing at h…

“Excuse me,” Cash tried again, “you’re not a doctor, are you?” Another bemused look and shake of the head. “Oh, okay, thanks anyway,” he said to their backs. The warm bundle in his arms groaned unc…

I pushed the little girl on the rope swing, guessing she couldn’t be more than seven, knowing she was my mother. The swing groaned as it arced forward, then back, the rope twisting against the boug…

Here’s a Friday-night post to finish up the Junkyard novella! There are a bunch of other bonus goodies when you sign up too (including the “Bearadise Lodge” short story with McCall, Junkyard, and Scipio). via Pocket

Hey, folks! Many thanks to those of you who have grabbed a copy of Fractured Stars. It picks up the adventure of McCall, Scipio, Junkyard (and a new hero) a couple of years in the future. via Pocket

Here’s the next installment of Junkyard! That’s a picture of a wolfhound down there, so not quite the mixed-breed mutt that Junkyard is, but that’s how I imagine his face. And his height! via Pocket

Hi, folks! I’m working on Agents of the Crown, Book 4 (Elven Fury!), but I took a break to write a new novella and a novel in my Fallen Empire science-fiction universe. Except the stories take place before the fall of the empire. And they feature so…

Saturday afternoons Claude and I watch old horror movies in bed and drink bourbon, I know the first thing he’s gonna ask me for is the oral. Still, when he starts in it’s like a bird pecking at a tree. Stab, stab, stab. Fumbles to find my clit with …

Use the photograph above as the inspiration for your flash fiction story. Write whatever comes to mind (no sexual, political, or religious stories, jokes, or commentary, please) and after you PROOFREAD it, submit it as your entry in the comments sec…

The girl does not come to Mebuyen, so Mebuyen goes to the girl. She is standing ankle-deep in the river, looking down, her mouth open. via Pocket

Until today, I had only seen government-sanctioned flames. And I had never felt them; never known how heat could change so rapidly with distance. Never smelled smoke. Never felt so guilty. Of course, I would never take fire above ground; and I would…

Like you, I grew up with the telling of the Tale of the Scout and the Pachydormu. That telling, on the night of first new moon of winter, marked my years between toddler and twelve like tree rings. via Pocket

When the magistrate arrives in Immen, the first thing he does is summon Grandmother Seung, druidess of Yang Village Behind-the-Mountains, to ask for her magic potion. via Pocket

Even though your creative fiction professor fawns over Joyce, you don’t understand the copy of Ulysses you checked out from the library, so you hide behind it while you stare at your classmate whose skin flickers. His blue and green skin is speckled…

The woman began as an idea, as so many women do. She couldn’t be entirely beautiful, because that would stretch credibility too far. She couldn’t be ugly, either, though. via Pocket

PodCastle 543: Waters of Versailles — Part 2

Fiction The Pull of the Herd — Anathema Spec from the Margins via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2IJtiPo

History Redux | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2O8izUF

Escape Pod 646 Subtle Ways Each Time - Escape Pod via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2MQ9JFI

Inside Joke | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2C2Pkvl

Two Muffins, a Wrench, and an Oil Can | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2ypuUZM

Imbuzi Chèvre Wins Flash Fiction Challenge – Indies Unlimited via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2y1d9Re

A Change in Weather | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2OGtjck