From beyond the ghetto walls come the peal of church bells; pure and clear, clear and pure the sound fills the night above the ghetto, and Shomer and the children stop and listen to it, spellbound in their captivity.
Read MoreMy Struggle
Lately it’s been the aliens. Ralph won’t let it go, which is another reason I don’t say anything about mine. Mike asks him if they inserted anything into his orifices—Mike watches all that stuff on the History Channel—and Ralph says no.
Read MorePenelope WaitsThe iron heated quickly, and in a series of motions as artful as any he’d performed on the orchestral podium he pulled it from the fire with one hand, squeezed her forearm hard to force her fingers open with the other, and jabbed the glowing red tip of the poker into her exposed palm.
Read MoreWhile the Black Stars BurnTaking it up, she smiled into the storm creeping into the kitchen. Lightning cracked in the distance, and the room flooded with ghostly light. The thunder drummed against the house, and she stood and gave herself over to the sound.
Read MoreThe Lightning BirdBut really, the whole damn country is haunted. Every community theatre has an old actor who won’t leave the lights behind; every college and university has a pretty co-ed who hanged herself or jumped out a window; every bed and breakfast has a little child in white. Every Lover’s Lane has a Hook Man, a Goat Man, a Skunk Ape.
Read MoreBad PennyOriginally appeared on Kameron Hurley's Patreon page
Read MoreTumbledown
I swallow cheap blue whiskey. The burn slides down my throat, while I drink in Killer Hands’ owner. He’s good-looking in an off-kilter sort of way: black-curled and black-eyed, aquiline nose just a little too strong for his razor-boned face, the stubble at his jawline the barest suggestion of a shadow. The hands, though—the hands are what you really notice. The hands are the reason I’ve been sitting in this shitty-ass bar, drinking its shitty-ass whiskey.
Read MoreThe Man in the Crimson CoatAccording to time dilation, Corie was thirty-two years old. Her best friend in the universe, Amy? She was dying. The cancer resisted the chemo drugs and, despite stasis, spread like black oil in all the holoimages of Amy’s organs. Stage four. At least there was no pain. The images flashed across Corie’s mind like the Aurora Borealis.
Read MoreThe TripSighs and groans traveled back through the line. Some folks had been waiting in the delivery chamber a full sunrise-sunset click. The room suffered from cold gusty drafts and a solid metal floor that made the legs ache. Sadly, it was the only way to obtain government-issued items: repaired CommBundles, approved travel vouchers, medicines that weren’t distributed via more onerous channels.
Read MoreSkinny Charlie’s Orbiting Teepee