The aging butler placed twin goblets down, then left with a bow.
Melissa took one with a shaking hand. Her brother’s apparition took the other; they tapped glasses.
She downed the cup in one gulp.
The ghost twisted into flesh, wine splattering his skin.
Her cup clanked to the floor.
Katlina Sommerberg lives in San Francisco, where the summer nights are colder than the winter days of her childhood. She is a cog in the machine for Big Tech, where she writes software and loves to hate her company’s perks. Her work has previously appeared or is forthcoming in AntipodeanSF, 365tomorrows, and 101 Words.
We woke under a perilous sun: too red, too hot, too close. How did we come here and how would we ever get back?
We meant only to watch, to observe the Arcane Plane. But one cannot observe without becoming part. The mirror showed us more than our own darkness.
Casey Laine comes from a long line of talkative women. She works as Fantasy Editor at Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores, and publishes an annual anthology for her writing group, Writers Assembled. In her spare time, she chases butterflies with her camera. Find her on Facebook.
As Granny evanesced,
she left a whisper,
words which echo
“From magic we come
and to magic we return.
I am reeds bending in the wind,
the brush of soft willows,
birdsong before the dawn.
I am not gone from this world,
but with you
Matthew Coward is a habitual daydreamer, occasional writer and proud night-owl. He writes fantasy inspired flash fiction, short stories and poetry.
The zebra butterfly clung to the glass pane. His black and white wings drew the attentive fingers of the little boy on the window seat inside. Could he cradle this wonder in his hand?
The butterfly clapped his wings and lifted away. He carried with him all the toddler’s joy.
Gary Thomson lives in Ontario, where in his quiet moments he blows Beatles tunes on his Hohner harmonica.
Glass shards sparkled against the flagstones in the light of stark realization. He repented and reversed time, erasing the mess and its memory.
The crystal ball sank heavily in his hands and glimmered darkly, foreboding.
He could bear no more. He hurled it down.
Glass shards sparkled against the flagstones…
John Samuel Anderson lives one nautical mile from the beach and five light-milliseconds from space. When not speculating on human colonization of the stars, he enjoys life on Earth with his wife, seven kids, a cat, and a bunny. See more at twostarshipgarage.wordpress.com.
The young witch knew what the child would be.
She tried to hide her concern when the older witches gave her slanted looks.
One day, deep in the woods, she said, “A boy? What do I do with a boy?”
“You begin by naming him Merlin,” said the oldest tree.
Bob Thurber is the author of “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel” and two collections of stories. A celebrated master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in 60 anthologies, received dozens of awards, and been used in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts where, though legally blind, he continues to write every day. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
“Tell me about your girlfriend.”
“Lucinda calls herself a witch but I have my doubts. When she tried some closeup magic, she wasn’t very good at it.”
“Did she cause you to break out in a rash?”
“No. These red marks are where she accidentally jabbed me with her wand.”
John H. Dromey stands tall but often writes short.
I wanted to pet that bunny, so I followed him to his hole. Determined, I muttered a spell and shrank to the size of a grasshopper. His nose twitched side to side when I found him.
We stared into each other’s eyes. Then I learned that rabbits will eat bugs.
Eddie D. Moore travels extensively for work, and he spends much of that time listening to audio books. The rest of the time is spent dreaming of stories to write and he spends the weekends writing them. His stories have been published by Jouth Webzine, Kzine, Alien Dimensions, Theme of Absence, Devolution Z, and Fantasia Divinity Magazine. Find more on his blog.
“Do you believe in magic?” she asked. “Charms… enchantments… love potions?”
He laughed. “Of course not. Do you?”
“Oh, no. But your grandma does. She told me.”
“Grandma believes in fairies, too. Don’t take her seriously.”
“You’re right.” She smiled. “Here, drink your tea.”
She watched for fairies.
B.C. Nance is a native of Nashville, Tennessee where he works as a historical archaeologist. In his spare time he writes fiction and poetry and has published several of his short stories and poems.
“Bargaining with the Sidhe is dangerous. They can’t be trusted!”
I ignored her.
“I want to live forever,” I told them.
“Then we’ll give you a form that will last through eternity,” they replied.
Now I stand here in the circle, one stone among many, watching the aeons drift past.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. As he rises to the top of his profession, he awaits with morbid curiosity his inevitable fall from grace.