Five knew two things about Brother Ted Gunderson: The man loved Jesus, and hated his own son. Five was never allowed to call him Father or Pa. Once Five was old enough to string the words together, Brother Ted Gunderson was Brother Ted Gunderson, and Five would catch a beating if he left off a single syllable.
Read MoreClap Your Hands
Marla and Zufi, the reigning queens of Hell, were eight years into a meaningless spat, living more as roommates than lovers, and as a consequence, Marla was irritable and Zufi was bored.
Read MoreThree Petitions to the Queen of Hell
Intrigue is our game. We play it well. It is all we have. She steps out of the pub with smoke on her lips, heels in her hands. A flicker of gin hides behind her eyes. Her interest meter is low, except for a seed of fear.
Read MoreWe Are New(s)
Beneath you, the airbus—an older model, a little threadbare at the wings—thrums with complaints, dissatisfied with the double standards imposed by its makers: a pilot is permitted to retire, his plane is condemned to scrap. How fair is that?
Read MoreA Priest of Vast and Distant Places
The water runs lukewarm with that familiar chemical sting that all recyc water has. It cuts off after exactly one minute, making the pipes knock. It echoes deep inside the station walls. It’s exactly 06.00 hours, Earth-time adjusted.
Read MoreIrregularity
Ayen ran, her bare feet kicking up a cloud of ash-colored dust across the parched earth. Behind her, the hooves of horses thundered like drums, drawing closer despite her desperate strides. When the rope slipped over her head, she was struck with terror—a primal fear, droned into her since she was a girl.
Read MoreGhost Marriage
I reach the dairy mid-way through my morning rounds, expecting to find Mary hard at work inside. But the simple wood structure is silent.
Read MoreWork, and Ye Shall Eat
Our late fee is twenty-five cents per day or a can of non-perishable food during the summer food drive. By the time the boy finally slid The Runaway Prince into the return slot, he owed $4.75. I didn’t have to swipe his card to know; any good librarian (of the second kind) ought to be able to tell you the exact dollar amount of a patron’s bill just by the angle of their shoulders.
Read MoreA Witch’s Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies
The last of the fairies worked in a charnel house, taking apart the beasts that came dead under her hands. In her youth, she had been the last and least of three; now she was the only living one, and even fairies must earn their keep.
Read MoreOrigin Story