Alicah bent low to wrap the water-proof leather strips tightly around the legs of his pants, feeling uneasy. Behind him, around sixty fur-coated Pelairians were gathered and grumbling on the pebbled beach, silently watching him prepare for his trip into the lake of their god. The gloriousness of the day did little to ease his… Continue reading The Unabridged Prayers of Pelairus, by Erin Brown
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Talk Page, by Tessa Fisher
WELCOME TO WIKIREPLY: HUMANITY’S RESPONSE TO THE HD 294752 TRANSMISSION THAT ANYONE CAN EDIT TALK: THE REPLY Auto-translation enabled: English How representative are we really? [edit] I know our goal is to try to craft a collaborative communications package that’s as representative of the global population as possible, but is a Wiki really the best… Continue reading Talk Page, by Tessa Fisher
Lost in the Central Stacks, by Laurence Raphael Brothers
I work at the New York Public Library Main Branch. 5th avenue and 42nd street. You know, the one with the lions. Technically, the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building, but most of us call it Sasbee. This is what happened to me, not long ago. I’m writing it down in case someone else trips over the… Continue reading Lost in the Central Stacks, by Laurence Raphael Brothers
The Care and Training of Hellhounds, by Cynthia Zhang
“Darling,” Hades says one evening as the two of them are curled up on the couch, “I love you, but we can’t live like this.” “Hmm?” Persephone glances up from her Macbook. At her feet, Perennial Granata Aster Cerebus the Munificent rolls onto his stomach, unheeding or uncaring of Hades’ feet in his quest to… Continue reading The Care and Training of Hellhounds, by Cynthia Zhang
The Pitha Seller of Qismat Square, by Maria Hossain
Every winter, right after the sun sets, the pitha seller of Qismat Square arrives at her spot. Nobody knows her name or age. She is “khala” or “nani” to those who like her, and “hag” or “old bat” to those who don’t. She doesn’t mind either. She’s nobody’s aunt, nobody’s granny. She’s just a gaunt… Continue reading The Pitha Seller of Qismat Square, by Maria Hossain
Popsicles & Jambalaya, by Sabina Malik
Nalini Boudin couldn’t remember the damn incantation she needed to turn Jimmy back into a man. She put on her spectacles, flipping through her dusty spell book. Her fool of a husband—who she’d turned into a popsicle—sat melting on the counter, dripping grape juice onto the checkered linoleum. Jimmy’d been nagging her about her “salty”… Continue reading Popsicles & Jambalaya, by Sabina Malik
Personal Mythology, by Betsy Aoki
First it was the nightmares. Months of nightmares. Sisyphus would be standing at sunrise, at the top of a hill with wildflower-sprinkled meadows and the edge of a forest spread out before him. He would bring his arms out wide, stretch them out to the fingertips and inhale the fresh draughts of spring. The wind… Continue reading Personal Mythology, by Betsy Aoki
The Eternal Torch, by Jonathan Olfert
Vesha Bittertongue (or so the ungrateful called her) made her home in an old flint mine, too remote for casual visitors. Far enough, indeed, that visitors tended to disappear if they got casual about little things like gratitude. No matter what they wanted—love, strength, comfort, safety—they ignored her warnings that magic tended to betray. They… Continue reading The Eternal Torch, by Jonathan Olfert
Home Safe, by Kiran Kaur Saini
cw: suicide “Benny—where the hell are you? We got half the town here waiting for crab legs,” my brother Gavin shouted into his phone over children’s laughter and picnic revelry. Behind the cloud of grill smoke, his face was troubled. He caught my eye and shook his head, stuffing the phone into his pocket. He’d… Continue reading Home Safe, by Kiran Kaur Saini
Inker Blood, by J.L. Jones
I’m in Barney’s, waiting on a drug-loving squid. Got my whole life riding on this job. Been killing time on my arm-tablet, programming viruses. Never know when you might need one. Barney’s is a neat joint. Mugs crawling with lichen, pesky sea mice scavenging the dank floors. Nautiluses negotiating grimy tanks. Bums mumbling about the… Continue reading Inker Blood, by J.L. Jones
