Clarkesworld Magazine - Science Fiction & Fantasy : When We Were Starless by Simone Heller
When we set out to weave a new world from the old, broken one, we knew we pledged the lives of our clutches and our clutches’ clutches to wandering the wastes. via Pocket
Clarkesworld Magazine - Science Fiction & Fantasy : The Miracle Lambs of Minane by Finbarr O’Reilly
It was midsummer when I arrived in Corcaigh from Sadbhsfort, and the famine parties were in full swing. I don’t know if you remember the posters for them—in a vibrant shawl, a red-headed woman stands, holding a twin in each arm. via Pocket
My grandmother is five hundred and ninety-two years old. Left to her own devices and the pitiless march of time this wonderful woman, who is actually my many times great grandmother, would have slipped away and into the finality of whatever the fuck…
“I give this gift to the people of tomorrow. On the precipice of this great twilight I take comfort in knowing that as our ports run dry and our rails rust the people of the world will always have access to the materials needed to shape the world ar…
On a far balcony, people are starting to panic. A crystal goblet flashes rainbow reflections as it tumbles, the hand that held it snatched backwards so quickly the goblet falls straight down. The holder was my target: now more a thing of art and geo…
Author: Hari Navarro, Staff Writer “Will there be zombies?”, she asks and I shake my head no and we weave around the discarded limbs and the stalled cars and sodden newspapers with pages that no longer flick and away from this city of rot. via Pocket
Clarke peered mesmerised through the tiny pod’s porthole at the forested planet, verdant, moist and fertile stretching to the horizon. He smiled, doubting it could save his soul, but it was certainly rescuing his mood. via Pocket
In Which Stan Discovers Frank has Always Wanted a Baby | 365tomorrows
It was a clear Tuesday in May at the Eden Garden Center when a new universe commenced between the petunias and marigolds, just left of the snapdragons. Initially the size of a speck, it was easily mistaken for atmospheric sparkle. via Pocket
The bridge is quiet. After the last escapade, everyone’s resting in some way or other. I do my down time relaxation up here, working through the after-battle reports to assess where we can improve. “Captain Dulles. via Pocket
Clarkesworld Magazine - Science Fiction & Fantasy : Sparrow by Yilin Wang
The rooftop is quiet except for the hum of a plane passing overhead, heading to a faraway elsewhere. The sharp stench of ammonia rises from the bucket hanging from your window-cleaning belt. via Pocket
She makes love to him in the long grass that encircles the base of the old stone lighthouse in a moat of shivering green. His untrained skin too it quivers. Though her hands they grip and caress as her passion it distills and smooths him and the sun…
Strange Horizons - De MotherJumpers By Celeste Rita Baker
Me gills hurting me now. Dem spots just below me ears what does plump up wid pressure and let me know dey been working too hard for too long. Let me know is time to rise. I must soon break de surface of de water and fill up me lungs wid air. via Poc…
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 …
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
Nana Naoko’s Garden – Michael Gardner – Metaphorosis Magazine
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
Strange Horizons - The Fortunate Death of Jonathan Sandelson By Margaret Killjoy
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…
Bye Bye Skinny Cow – Hamilton Perez – Metaphorosis Magazine
“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…
Nana Naoko’s Garden – Michael Gardner – Metaphorosis Magazine
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…
Junkyard — Part 4 and Epilogue (a free science fiction novella) | Lindsay Buroker
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
Junkyard — Part 3 (a free science fiction novella) | Lindsay Buroker
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
Junkyard — Part 2 (a free science fiction novella) | Lindsay Buroker
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
Junkyard — Part 1 (a free science fiction novella) | Lindsay Buroker
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…