I’ll calm you, I’ll keep you busy. I’ll scratch that itch. I’ll give you a reason to go outside for some fresh air. Sometimes, I’ll give you a rush. Most of the time though, I will just give you a measure of comfort.
Then, I will kill you.
Sharon Gerger has been published in the Globe and Mail and Erma Bombeck Workshop and has a story in Laugh Out Loud, an award-winning book that is for sale on Amazon.
A summoning felt a propos when the moon fell from the sky and the sun blew out. To part the veil of the Arcane Plane had always been forbidden—a gateway to nameless evil, an invitation to the dark. But now? What was one more dark thing in unmitigated night?
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 of fiction and poetry for her writing group, Writers Assembled. In her spare time, she chases butterflies with her camera. Find her on Facebook, Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores, and Amazon.
We call each place by the old names, then start building stuff − exactly as before, only nicer. And that’s most of what we have here: hope for better things.
Luckily, the locals are always super helpful. If we can just make them more like us, well, life will be perfect.
Robert Keal loves telling stories and would like to have been born in a time when sharing them around the campfire was commonplace (only, you know, without all the predatory megafauna).
There was a low growling, buzzing sound coming from far away. Suddenly something was trying to suck the life out of me. I slapped, twisted, turned and tried to escape. Claws pierced my skin. Hot breath filled my mouth. I bolted upright.
My cat jumped to the floor and smiled.
Charlotte McElroy is an 80-year-old retired teacher. She is finally following her dream: writing!
The North Pole Police found Jolly the Elf hiding underneath a snow-covered tarp behind the old toy factory.
At the precinct they asked him repeatedly, “Why did you do it?”
Looking down at his blood-stained crakows, Jolly finally said, “Why should he get to have all the milk and cookies?”
Ran Walker is the award-winning author of 17 books, including Portable Black Magic: Tales of the Afro Strange. He teaches creative writing at Hampton University in Virginia.
The skinny cat slinks through damp alleyways with hunger in her eyes, desperation sharpening her senses to a degree that she never thought possible. She’s found freedom in starvation, purpose in the chase, salvation in the feeling of blood between her teeth.
She will never be a house pet again.
Ethan Noll writes short stories and poems. He hopes to write something longer someday.
I’ve been collecting things since I was very small. Conkers, feathers, snow globes. Then onto stamps, butterflies, coins.
It was only natural for me to progress to larger, more beautiful and precious things. Hard to find, harder to keep.
People demand their freedom in a way that stamps never did.
Charlie Swailes writes short and very short stories when not teaching English or looking after her two small boys.
High Noon; the Kid faces Sundance. Fingers twitching, onlookers gathering. Quickdraw! Boom! 1860, the irons virtually explode in their mitts. Smoke, lead, everywhere. Recoil flattens the Killers. Two Mexicana bystanders lie dead.
An old Comanche watches, already telling how the Killers pumped each other full of lead and miraculously survived.
Peter Li-ping continues to travel, work, and rest in an arc which stretches North-East to North-West. But he feels the Great Light shines from the South West.
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.
When we found a body under the conservatory, my husband and I disagreed on what to do.
We should call the police (me).
No, definitely not (him).
We inherited the house from his parents. His dad, actually, who’s living in a care home.
Now I know why we don’t visit.
Laura Besley writes short fiction in the precious moments that her children are asleep. Her fiction has appeared online, in print and in various anthologies. She tweets at @laurabesley.