Genres: Comedy, Fantasy, Horror, Horror Fantasy
The bell jingled as we left the creepy little doll shop. The store owner smiled from behind the counter, one of those off-putting, ‘I know more than you do,’ kind of smiles. Her old, crackly voice didn’t help.
“Take care of her now, won’t you?”
She was a witch.
She was absolutely a witch. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Fairy Tale, Fantasy, Horror
The sound of the metal grinding against the whetstone reverberated up my arms. My father was sharpening his ax, preparing for the day’s work. “I invited Mu to dinner tonight,” he said.
I shuddered.
Mu was a woodsman whose family came from a neighboring village in China and had settled in the same rural town in Oregon a decade before my family. How happy my family was to hear our dialect! It almost made this foreign country feel safe. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Modern Sci-Fi, Science Fiction
Nobody talks about what happened in Hasan’s city, so he looks for clues. His memories are jumbled up and broken. Boots thudding. Shards of glass. Shoulders and fists slamming on the thin wooden door of his flat. He remembers one night some men forced their way in. The latch is still broken. But Hasan’s father says no. That was only because Hasan locked himself in once and the neighbors had to rescue him. It’s a funny story, not a scary one. And his mother is with relatives. Hasan doesn’t need to worry. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Science Fiction
Frank Duffy saw the astronaut on a gift stall on his way to work one day. A little guy, white and gold plastic, pointing at the sky with all the confidence of the non-sentient. Frank bought it on a whim, and it stayed on his monitor until he left a few years later. (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, 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: 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: 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…)
Genres: Fantasy, Horror Fantasy
The Game of Mao has only one rule: don’t explain the rules to the game of Mao.
It’s the only rule we may be told — the rest are clouded in secrecy and it is up to us to figure them out through trial and error. We must follow this set of ambiguous rules exactly, without knowing what they are. There are, in fact, so many rules that many times they go forgotten; it is impossible to memorize them all, so we only remember the common ones, the ones that carry the most serious implications, the ones we’ve decoded after years of experiments.
Today is a Tuesday, which means the rule of Tuesday applies: you cannot walk on sidewalks, all purchases must be made in dimes, and hats must be worn at all times.
Genres: Fantasy
Sneaking into your father’s shrine is one of the most stupid things you have ever done, yet you feel entirely at home among the hanging masks and horsetails. Lanterns beside the doorway and at the opposite end of the shrine cast the faces of the other boys around you in an orange glow. The excitement on their dark, ruddy faces can’t match yours though, and your cheeks hurt from smiling too much.
You are seated on the bench furthest from your father’s big bone chair, hoping to be obscured by the shadowy darkness of the corner. The first three benches are crammed with boys jostling for a better seat yet unwilling to move to the empty benches behind. You scoff at their stupidity but pray they don’t stop clamoring for those seats. In your heart of hearts you belong with them, but you know the further away you are from them, the better. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Fantasy, Urban Fantasy
In the basement, scant lightbulbs sputtered in and out. The single torch, propped on a shelf, shone on the pages as I reviewed my copy: The plight of the Hindu laborer must be addressed on a societal level. He is forced to face his burdens alone, often without friends or family.
Typewritten stencils, leaving corpses of plastic letters on the ground. Mildew sprinkled the walls and released a foul odor. When I opened new ink, that stink would mix with the mildew.
Rage filled me as I pressed the keys on the typewriter. When I visited my father, he hadn’t even offered me a cup of coffee or asked how I was. Instead, leaning on his store counter, he told me about his latest backaches and arguments with his tenants. When I hinted that I was parched but wanted to pay for a soda, he offered me a cup of white Ovaltine. Its taste reminded me of how I missed my mother’s chai, how it would always soak the tongue with spices.
Father owned a candy shop in Seattle by a trolley stop; it also sold sodas and tobacco for those interested. He would curate newspapers and magazines for travelers and offer hot coffee to loyal customers. For children, he would boil sweetened Ovaltine powder in milk.
“You have grown too fast,” he’d grumbled in Tamil. “And you are eating too much, Shyama. How much money are we sending for your education?” (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Science Fiction
Seventeen hours before some of us are to launch on a nine-months-and-forever journey to Mars, my little brother Enoch lands on my tricked-out Park Place and even he knows before counting his cash that he can’t pay the rent. We’ve been lowballing him so he can stay in the game (he’s six), but I bankrupted my dad last turn on this square so he knows what’s coming.
His face twists into a pout, then calms with obvious effort. Kids who are going to Mars have to learn to bounce back from disappointment. He knows that, too.
“It’s a good thing,” my stepdad Hugh says, sweeping Enoch’s money toward me. “There’s an old astronaut tradition that you should lose a game before you launch. Uses up your bad luck.” (Continue Reading…)