In the year 1588, twenty-four-year-old Michelangelo Florio Crollalanza, fearing for his limbs at the hands of the Inquisition, fled his native Sicily for the sceptred shores of England.
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Category: Fantasy
The Time Machine That Was and Wasn’t at the Same Time by Jonah Jones.
Several years ago or yet to be, Frank Fullie had written on a whiteboard in his garage:
“You can jump forward in time by falling asleep.”
“You can jump backward in time by looking at old photographs.”
“Sideways in time by having empathy with another.”
“Outside time by dying.”
As an afterthought he’d written “Does the Higgs field come into it?”
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The Insolence of the Lambs: A Feckless Fable by Leila Allison
Our cast
Re-education Story Lady………Dame Daisy Kloverleaf
Truant Officer Aye………………Beezer Baw
Truant Officer Nae…………… Barkevious Baw
The Lamb Sextuplets…………..Themselves
Principal …………………………Penrose the Flying Weasel
The Bogey-Sheep……………..Juan Gee
Superintendent Renfield………Herself (actually drunk, a method actress)
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Anita Knows by Leila Allison
Act One: What Goes Up Eventually Leaves a Crater
Nowadays, the amazing comeback of the boy band, the billigits, is all the rage in Saragun Springs. The cycle of fame travels extremely fast in fantasy realms. For six weeks the boys (natives of the Springs) were flying high, superstars in the Springs’ sister realm called Other Earth; launched by the spectacular success of their debut album, meet the billigits (billigits do not use capital letters). Yet six weeks later, the band imploded, and the billigits were just another pockmark in the town of hasbeenville.
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Katrina by Richard Krause
What is immoral is simply what we don’t want people to do. If anything is expeditious to us, of benefit, if it accords with our own plan, we will not only sanction but applaud what would otherwise outrage us.
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Fledgling by Tammy Komoff
“Mama said the feathers are my psychosis,” Ava says. Her gaze drifts away from me, down toward the red and blue dancing lights. I edge closer along the ledge. “Your ambulance looks like a toy from up here.” She picks at scabs covering her arms, with blood-encrusted fingernails.
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The Charm by Ed N. White
I loved the dark when I was a kid. That’s when I made up my best stories. I’d lay in bed with the kaleidoscopic images shooting through my brain like a meteor shower. My lips whispered the sounds of squealing tires, explosions, and airplanes, and sometimes fluttering with the staccato of a machine gun or the thwack of a wooden bat. These images were projected onto the inside of my eyelids like View-Master stereoscopic reels. I knocked out bad guys, hit home runs, captured criminals and won wars. I quickly advanced the scenes until the day after my tenth birthday. That’s when I saw my funeral, and it scared the hell out of me.
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Dial 1 for Heaven by N J Delmas
A red phone box stands alone in the middle of a field. Long grass and wildflowers surround it and little else. I make my way over; glad I’m wearing my wellies. I avoid the cow pats along the way and bat a couple of flies from my face.
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Out There by Ed N. White
Ray Dragon’s writing career had fallen hard after his first book, Loving Them Madly, in which Ray detailed the gruesome murder investigation of three young women near the Oberlin College campus with a vivid imagination; now, he was running dry. He wrote a series of travel articles for This Our World, in which he only traveled with a mouse and Google, but the magazine failed before he got a check.
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The Promise by Russell Fee
The lake breeze chilled the back of his neck as he bent over the boulder to inspect the patterns of lichen spreading on its surface like an ink spill. This was the one he was to find. As the receding waves sucked the water from the sand around it, the rock sputtered and gurgled as if it were alive, a nursing infant or a dying soul. He had trekked almost three miles from his cottage to reach this point on the beach, the farthest out on this side of the island. From here it was fifty miles to the mainland over the surface of an inland sea. He removed his clothes, tossing them into the water. He was to carry nothing. Standing nude, he waited, facing the dunes that rose to the stretch of trees above the beach.
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