fantasy dust folk (3) The cathedral is an anvil dropped from a great height on the shoulders of the city. Houses and market stalls crowd away from it and heavy blackout blankets blind its openings. Many people
sf captain orpicea and the visitor When Orpicea had been in the mining business, the jargon for gas-harvesters like these was ‘canaries’, drowning as they did in their mother jovian’s atmosphere, and the general feeling was that they
sf white dwarf resonant We would drill deep to reach the marrow. Feldt helped me lay down the battery and align the bore. Seseq directed us, the coral's deep structures clear to her through some mechanism of
sf underpass They found her body in the wrong country’s river. The officers grimaced at the stench as they fished her out, eelgrass wrapped around her like the water wanted to keep her.The
sf galactic coral bloomed We set down upon the coral where it was brightest. Only Seseq did not turn away as the bay doors yawned open. Even through my suit's filtered visor the poison light leaked through.
fantasy dust folk (2) Sound had died in that time, Marlowe explained, and the desert folk had dug deep. The nomads rewrote their traditions or they disappeared. Things had made roost in the desert. You heard them
art classical feets Last year I enrolled in a classical realism art course when, while idly researching how far I'd have to travel if I wanted to study at an atelier, I made the incredible discovery
fantasy lunatic moon Where the moon's threads touched the forest canopy the leaves were manic although the air was still. Tapic's shoulder scraped on the shuddering branches as she climbed. A long keen dagger swung at
short fiction where the snow dies (1.5/2) Above there was only the unmoving clouds, preserved mid-maelstrom. She was close enough now to see the eye of that frozen storm, which the corpse of the elder tree strained to reach with
short fiction where the snow dies (1/2) Some mad wizard wanders, they said, up in the old north, in the creaking airless wastes where the owls went. A hunched, arthritic witch (a barkeep drawled), a smirking magician prince (said the
fantasy dust folk The desert cities shut their gates when the red clouds rolled in over the dunes. Mountainous billows of sand scaled their walls, used their streets as veins, and buckled the roofs of the
short fiction in transition There's the slippage, that gets some folks off. You get this real, uh, disassociative sensation. When the boat splits. In transition. 'It's the grey stuff,' Pam's voice crackled. This was years back.
sightings by various authors [...] Aboard a train in southernmost Norway, as a for-instance, I sat in the dining car watching the Arctic countryside lurch by. Mottled clouds made the sky a well-aged carpet. Little perfect houses peppered
förlåt What at last arrives, hours late, is not a train at all: it is the shit of a train, a droopy sad-faced crayon drawing of a train with stink lines trailing from every
the late engine Okay well hopefully that's the most unredeemably obnoxious thing I'll ever write. It did a number on my momentum—I don't know how many days I missed but it felt like a lot.
sf the hate engine (8) An experiment was carried out: having stolen the Andromeda machine, we carried it into the time traveller’s cell and informed him he was to enable the systematic obliteration of his home time
sf the hate engine (7) As we made our return journey to Jupiter, we came to terms with the idea that perhaps he’d been telling the truth. That the destruction of the psychic projector had sent our
sf the hate engine (6) His ship cracked apart like an icicle without even breaching our hull. It was pathetic. Then he tried to walk through our ship's walls like they had the first time, but whatever mechanism
sf the hate engine (5) We waited for hours, but the future envoy didn’t speak again. While Yup was shipped planetside we squinted through our telescopes at Jupiter, or the space where she should have been, but
sf the hate engine (4) From the staging station Earth was an absence. Its clouds ate what city lights were left and starlight barely touched it; it was a black hole, a wall of nothing. We felt too
sf the hate engine (3) We’d lived on the dark side of the Earth since before I was born. Darkness didn't worry us. The Venusian cloud cover would even keep the surface toasty for a while. Eventually,
