via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io Two Cardinalis cardinalis, the northern cardinal. Five Zenaida macroura, the mourning dove. One Toxostoma rufum, the brown thrasher. And the highlight of the excursion – one Pandion haliaetus, an osprey! I couldn’t wait to tell Maria, but for now I … Take Two | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2YHhfcK

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io Author: Will H. Blackwell, Jr. Three PM: As per daily routine, a 15-lb. allotment of raw horse-meat is cast, piecemeal, into the uncertain hollows of this Ohio cage. via Pocket Memories Inherent in the Afternoon | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/30F8xMy

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io One of those tavern junkies invited me to the Skev for a brawl. I personally enjoyed these screw-ups. The one I talked to that night, around a week ago, was a tusked Griff named Young, and he was lean and almost terrifying. via Pocket Fregh and Young Brawl at the Skev | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/30BmOtI

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io Author: David C. Nutt We lost the robot revolution. Most of us missed it entirely and got the memo three or four days later when the internet came back on-line. Hey, we’re not as clueless as it sounds. via Pocket

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io Summer 2039, Tokyo: Goats read the evening news on TV. Goats? Yes! Take it, or leave it! Not goats, Sam! Kamala had once corrected me. I had been silent then. via Pocket Goats in my Family | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2OhQmuS

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io The fan on the ceiling turns slowly, another kitsch feature of this fake colonial era hospital. I do not know when hospitals started to compete for trade, but the ‘healing ambience’ vogue has been out of control – and good taste – for a while. via P… Dark Chambers of My Heart | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2JHEmi0

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io Distant stars blinked over Buguma island in the lower southern delta of West Africa. Sea waves turned, crickets droned, and guinea fowl warbled. I was on a forest path, walking to my village, looking over my shoulder, for I could hear something lurk…

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

WFR is proud to serialize The Lost Machine in support of its author and illustrator, Richard A. Kirk. We will be reprinting the entire novel with its illustrations over the course of the next five weeks with a new chapter every Monday and Wednesday. Wherever possible, formatting has been made to match that available in the e‐book. This […]

WFR is proud to serialize The Lost Machine in support of its author and illustrator, Richard A. Kirk. We will be reprinting the entire novel with its illustrations over the course of five weeks with a new chapter every Monday and Wednesday. Wherever possible, formatting has been made to match that available in the e‐book. This part of […]

WFR is proud to serialize The Lost Machine in support of its author and illustrator, Richard A. Kirk. We will be reprinting the entire novel with its illustrations over the course of five weeks with a new chapter every Monday and Wednesday. Wherever possible, formatting has been made to match that available in the e‐book. This part of […]

WFR is proud to serialize The Lost Machine in support of its author and illustrator, Richard A. Kirk. We will be reprinting the entire novel with its illustrations over the course of five weeks with a new chapter every Monday and Wednesday. Wherever possible, formatting has been made to match that available in the e‐book. This part of […]

WFR is proud to serialize The Lost Machine in support of its author and illustrator, Richard A. Kirk. We will be reprinting the entire novel with its illustrations over the course of five weeks with a new chapter every Monday and Wednesday. Wherever possible, formatting has been made to match that available in the e‐book. This part of […]

The following is the title story from Livia Llewellyn’s 2016 collection, Furnace (Word Horde). “Furnace” originally appeared in The Grimscribe’s Puppets (ed. Joseph S. Pulver, Sr.), where it received a Shirley Jackson Award nomination, and it was reprinted in The Year’s Best Weird Fiction, Vol 1 (eds. Laird Barron and Michael Kelly). It has not previously appeared online. Everyone […]

“Voices Carry” appears in Eric Schaller’s new collection Meet Me in the Middle of the Air (Undertow Publications, 2016). It originally appeared in Shadows & Tall Trees #2 (ed. Michael Kelly). It has not previously appeared online. — Weird Fiction Review Editors In this room there is no room for words. This room is a kitchen, newly […]

They made a game of it, taking their girls downstairs to the basement where there were no windows. The father had games for the girls down there. On Friday nights, he would drink beer after work, playing records for them. via Pocket

The stories all start the same way. A man goes fishing at night, and because the weather is calm and the tide is moving fast he guides his boat to the glittering vee between the two riptides that meet at the foot of the lighthouse. via Pocket

There had been no meat for too long. Mother’s pups, now weaned off her milk, whined and yipped when she returned to the den, her jaws and belly empty. The squirrels and rabbits had gone, and nothing remained but parched desert and scorching heat. vi…

It has been two weeks since my wife last laughed. At dinner, she shuffles her food around the plate, but doesn’t eat. She goes to bed early and wakes up late, barely in time for work. She moans in her sleep and burns hot, sweating through the sheets…

Out of Gin I had been in the crawlspace for a while, cobweb strands like birthday streamers. I was thinking about juniper. I considered a garden. I debated buying gloves, growing the plants, finding a distributor. I had stepped onto a wet batch of w…

Mitch and me were too busy figuring out how to handle Mom’s new form to take care of the lawn. via Pocket

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

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…

Caleb had been dead for two weeks when I started pretending to be his ghost. After the funeral, Hudson couldn’t sleep. I lay in my room and listened to my son crying. Quiet tears. A big boy suddenly aware that solid things can snap and break and bleed and end up buried under freezing earth. …

It begins with a girl in the water. My stilt-legged home rises from a dark, slow-moving river; in it, I learnt to swim, buoyed by coconuts. For much of my nineteen years its murky depths held no fear. In the water there’s fish, in the fields there’s rice. In the kingdom of Ayutthaya, none of …

When Jentri was ten her father, having run out of things to say, told her about the name he’d once found written in pencil on the wall above the basement sink, and about how he’d often wondered if it was still there. “Maybe you should look,” she said, and he did, and she followed him. …

The beast in the folds of Harry’s gut had no heart and it did not need one for his was strong enough to keep them both alive. It had neither heart nor mind nor eyes to see; it was only lips and teeth and fingers like needles that slipped inside his tongue and his bowels …