We’re thrilled to report that Cast of Wonders is a finalist for the British Fantasy Awards in the Best Audio category!
Our fellow finalists are:
Wish us luck!
Genres: Science Fiction
Cale twirled his drumstick morosely as the last of the reverb from the guitars died out.
“We vent,” he finally declared, tossing the sticks down onto the snare with a clatter. He leaned against the back of the couch and crossed his arms over his ample stomach.
“No, come on,” Bendrick replied, turning toward the drums as he brushed the hair from his eyes. “That was good, we’re definitely getting better. We’ve just gotta-” He stumbled as he stepped on the cord and pulled the plug sharply from his guitar. “We’ve gotta keep practicing.”
“What for, Benny?” asked Jillan, plopping down on an amp and resting her head in her hands. “It’s not like we can ever sign a big record contract, or go on a world tour. There aren’t any opportunities on the ship, no matter how good we are.”
“Don’t you see?” Bendrick said, pulling the guitar strap over his head and setting it down. He pointed at the crude letters formed from strips of electrical tape on the base drum. “We’re The Middle Rages! It’s not about the money or the fame, it’s about the rage, the emotion. It’s about the art.”
(Continue Reading…)
Genres: Modern Sci-Fi, Science Fiction
Jean was seventeen so her Luck was the average of her two parents, a very healthy four point five. When she graduated from school in a little less than three month’s time, she would test her own Luck, but everyone knew that it would not be less than Dad, the surgeon’s, four point nine or Pop, the mathematician’s, four point one. Privately, Jean thought it would be at least a five, almost as high as you could get. After all, she was young and pretty and very smart. Surely her Luck must be even better than her parents?
But she did not think about her Luck as she strolled down the street towards her home, the last sunshine of the afternoon lighting her way as if she trod upon a golden road. She didn’t pay any attention to the street sweepers, who had just begun to come out as the day faded, ready to work through the night. They wore shabby reflective vests over many-times patched clothes, and each wore an ironic crown of twisted black wire upon their heads, the mark of the Unlucky. The crowns were attached to anyone whose Luck tested below one point two, and could not be removed. No one was ever lucky enough to recover from below one point two. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Fantasy
Miquon set off across the endless desert to catch the Thief of Memory. On her belt she carried a knife made of ice, to freeze the Thief when she caught him. Across her back she carried a hollow staff, to siphon his stolen memories.
Hot sand burnt her bare feet as she tracked his steps over shifting dunes. Her people wore shoes for the desert heat, special ones picked out with embroidery and beads, but Miquon could no longer remember what the beads looked like or the significance of the colours, nor did she know anymore where her people might be found.
There were holes in her mind, gaps from the Thief. Until she caught him, that could not be fixed. And she knew that—how? She wasn’t sure. Fragments remained, bright constellations of truth gleaming in the emptiness of her savaged memories. Meanwhile, she went barefoot and cursed the sun. (Continue Reading…)
Cast of Wonders is a finalist in the Ignyte Awards in the Outstanding Fiction Podcast category – for excellence in audio performance and production for speculative fiction. We’re sharing the shortlist with LeVar Burton Reads, Old Gods of Appalachia, our sister publication Podcastle, and the Simultaneous Times Podcast.
We’re stunned and thrilled to bits to share a shortlist with such amazing shows – if you’re not familiar with any of them, go and take a listen! Voting for the awards is open now – and there are many other brilliant nominees in the other categories as well.
Many thanks from everyone on the team for the nomination. If you want to see what we got up to in 2023, our 2023 original fiction and Staff Pick episodes are a great place to start.
Genres: Fantasy, Horror Fantasy
Yejin rubbed her eyes. A cyst was growing at the edge of her right lid. She didn’t have to feel this terrible, but ever since she’d stopped draining the youth of lost children who wandered into the forest, the wrinkles had settled in, her brown hair streaked with grey, and her teeth had become brittle, sensitive to brews both too hot and too cold. She hated lukewarm tree sap water, but it would have to do.
When a knock on her door came, Yejin fumbled for her glasses on the nightstand next to her bed. The old crow that lived in the large oak with its branches draped over her mushroom-shaped house hadn’t yet called. It was far too early for the beginning of her business hours.
The rapping against her creaking wooden door quickened—staccato and urgent. But Yejin’s movements remained slow, steady, and calm, as though she were in a trance. At least it wasn’t a smart phone. Technology, she could never understand the appeal. The quietness of the forest was much more desirable than the roar of the city. She refused to use the Internet, though she snuck into the city every decade or so just to peek at the state of the world—more often than not, it was a mistake. People were foolish, brutish, shortsighted, and utterly helpless on their own, but she had renounced the world and did not intend to return, no matter how clearly they required her services. They’d have to come seek her out for it, and there would be a price—there always is. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Science Fiction
As Lydia takes his hand, Jon Flowers’ heart skips a beat. No, literally. It skips a beat. He has a premature ventricular contraction. It’s not dangerous, but this is his first experience with it. His knees go all wonky and he jerks his hand away. Sweat forms on his forehead; he is dizzy. His breaths shorten to gasps, and he excuses himself to the bathroom. He is dying, he thinks, having a heart attack at 26 and dying. In a state of panic, he forgets about Lydia, walks out of the restaurant, and flags a cab that takes him to the ER. They take blood, hook him up to beeping machines and tell him that nothing is wrong. They say that he should see a cardiologist for a thorough examination just to be sure. The cardiologist informs Jon that he had an anxiety attack triggered by a premature ventricular contraction. After he has been given a clean bill of health, Jon does not call Lydia. At this point in his life, he is too embarrassed about his anxiety to explain this to someone else. This is not a meet-cute. They never talk again. (Continue Reading…)
In a change to our previously published schedule, we will now be open to submissions to young authors (<20 years on 31st August 2024) from 21 July through to the end of August.
You can find our full guidelines here and submit your work via our Moksha portal.
Genres: Modern Sci-Fi, Science Fiction
A bookshop on a hill. Two front doors, two walkways lined with blank slates and grass, two identical signs welcoming customers to the First and Last Page, and a great blue building in the middle, shaped like an old-fashioned barn with a slanted tiled roof and generous rain gutters. Nobody knew how many books were inside that building, not even Molly, the owner. But if you couldn’t find it there, they probably hadn’t written it down yet.
The two walkways led to two identical front doors, with straw welcome mats, blue plank floors, and the scent of lilacs and old bindings—but then you’d see a completely different store, depending which side you entered. With two cash registers, for two separate kinds of money.
If you entered from the California side, you’d see a wall hanging: women of all ages, shapes, and origins holding hands and dancing. You’d notice the display of the latest books from a variety of small presses that clung to life in Colorado Springs and Santa Fe, from literature and poetry to cultural studies. The shelves closest to the door on the California side included a decent amount of women’s and queer studies, but also a strong selection of classic literature, going back to Virginia Woolf and Zora Neale Hurston. Plus some brand-new paperbacks.
If you came in through the American front door, the basic layout would be pretty similar, except for the big painting of the nearby Rocky Mountains, though you might notice more books on religion, and some history books with a somewhat more conservative approach. The literary books skewed a bit more toward Faulkner, Thoreau, and Hemingway, not to mention Ayn Rand, and you might find more books of essays about self-reliance and strong families, along with another selection of low-cost paperbacks: thrillers and war novels, including brand-new releases from the big printing plant in Gatlinburg. Romance novels, too. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Fantasy, Modern Fantasy, Urban Fantasy
When people stay in hotel rooms, they suddenly turn into toddlers. Weird, creative, screwed-up toddlers.
Let’s smear jam on the wall! Let’s leave apple cores in the drawers! Let’s hide used nappies behind the radiator, so that they fill the whole room with the smell of cooked poo! Hello, whoever cleans this room! I’ve left you a surprise!
Maybe they think there’s some hidden handle we pull to flush the room clean. But there isn’t. The only ‘handles’ are Mum, ‘occasional Kev’ from the village, and me. Kev’s just Occasional and Mum has everything else to do, so cleaning is mostly my job, particularly during the school holidays. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Fairy Tale, Fantasy
Once upon a time, there was a princess.
Does she have to be a princess? Couldn’t she be the daughter of a merchant, or a scholar, or an accountant?
An accountant? What would an accountant be doing in a pastoral fantasy setting?
The people there have money, don’t they? So they’d also have taxes and bills and profit-and-loss statements. But he could be a butcher or baker or candle-stick-maker, so long as he’s not a king. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Horror
Their progress through the woods had slowed to a stagger, but they kept going. They had to.
Jane shoved one booted foot through the layers of fallen leaves, then the other. Imagination kept her fear burning, prodding her forward with what if on an endless loop. What if that thing that had been her father had lurched impossibly to its feet, bent-necked and grinning, and come after them? But the sun was going down, the sky fading to pink and lavender behind the trees, and they wouldn’t be able to push forward much longer.
Emmett, ahead of her, cried out. “Look!”
Jane squinted in the direction he pointed, but the pale, twilit trees refused to stop moving after she turned her head, sliding past like tall, mocking ghosts. (Continue Reading…)
