The water runs lukewarm with that familiar chemical sting that all recyc water has. It cuts off after exactly one minute, making the pipes knock. It echoes deep inside the station walls. It’s exactly 06.00 hours, Earth-time adjusted. via Pocket Irregularity | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2I5oGCF

Intrigue is our game. We play it well. It is all we have. She steps out of the pub with smoke on her lips, heels in her hands. A flicker of gin hides behind her eyes. Her interest meter is low, except for a seed of fear. She has not posted anything … We Are New(s) | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2G8ZuNf

Five knew two things about Brother Ted Gunderson: The man loved Jesus, and hated his own son. Five was never allowed to call him Father or Pa. via Pocket Clap Your Hands | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2GuNFCd

Rhett Walker had always been a creature of unsettled dreams. When he woke on one particular night, somewhere in the dusty nowhere of west Durango, he couldn’t quite remember what had caused him to bolt upright, breathing heavy and screaming his thro… Asylum of Cuckoos | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2qaK8kF

When we gaze up at the heavens, we see exactly what one sees from Mother Earth: the resplendent, teeming stars and beacons of civilization flickering in the darkness. via Pocket The Heaven-Moving Way | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2ExNsZf

by Jennifer Pelland Originally published in DARK FAITH (Apex Publications) 2011 Nebula Award Nominee–Short Story Poets and sages like to say that there is clarity in certain death. That a cal…

By Eugie Foster Each morning is a decision. Should I put on the brown mask or the blue? Should I be a tradesman or an assassin today? Whatever the queen demands, of course, I am. But so often she i…