Far Fetched Fables

"This Week: “Caveat Emptor/Caveat Venditor” by Ed Ahern (Originally published in Silver Pen.) As warlocks go, Harald was a failure. Even though his curses were vigorously evil, and his pitches quite logical, he almost always lost the business. Harald partly blamed his sex. Most internet advertising for spells and curses came from witches. Those seeking vengeance or unfair advantage picked the repugnant hags rather than Harald, who was merely homely and middle aged. Harald had given himself mental hernias trying to increase sales.. Fifteen years an apprentice and sorcerer, he thought, and nothing to show for it. Washed out priests and ministers become counselors or teachers, but who’s willing to pay tuition to learn the uses of bloodwort? Harald had joined Wizards Anonymous, but the other members only talked about their mushroom dependencies. Needing money to live on, he took a job with a livery service, driving pampered executives to and from New York airports. It was several months of traffic jams...

"This Week: “Dependent Assemblies” by Philip A. Suggars (Originally published in Interzone #262.) “Purity of blood, purity of spirit. One nation united by the river, one nation united under the sun” – Elias Rojas presidential campaign slogan, Buenos Aires 1894. Alfonso and Marcelo were cold and tired as they shovelled the dirt onto Celia’s small body in the shallow grave. Alfonso dared himself to look down, catching a glimpse of her porcelain fingers and the yellowing heads of the freesias that they had buried with her in the garden. He wanted to cry, but all he felt was an aching numbness in his fingertips. A sudden play of spotlights above the cloud announced the arrival of an ornithopteron. The monolithic black moth burst through the grey canopy that covered the city and flapped low over their house, bellowing a hunting call so deep it throbbed in Alfonso’s chest. Philip A. Suggars is a British writer with a single yellow eye in the middle of his forehead and a collection of vintage binoculars. His...

“Sea of Strangers” by Michael M. Jones (Originally published in Inscription.) There was a weird vibe in the halls before first period today. As I made my way towards homeroom, weaving between people with experienced ease, I picked up a thousand different emotions-- everything you’d expect from a building packed to the gills with hormone-ridden teenagers and long-suffering adults-- and something new, strange, and impossible to identify. A slippery, elusive, emotional flavor that tinted the rest without revealing itself. It poked at my subconscious, put me on edge, made me just a little careless. I bounced off a man-mountain wearing a football letter jacket, and got a snarled, “Watch it, lesbo,” for my troubles. The shove he gave me wasn’t gentle; I stutter-stepped away, trying to regain my balance. It was going to be one of those days. Some people hate Mondays; this was proof that Tuesdays could be just as bad, given the opportunity. Sometimes, it really sucks to be queer and out in high school. I blame...

"“Languid in Rose” by Frances Silversmith (Originally published in Fantasy for Good.) Lilia I, Queen of Roses, reluctantly opened her eyes to yet another perfect day, courtesy of the Enchantment. The briar rose outside her windows threw moving shadows on the salmon-colored material curtains of her four-poster bed. What a disgustingly lovely sight. Lilia forced her heavy limbs to a sitting position. Instantly, her maid appeared with a cup of hot chocolate -- as she did every morning. When she was younger, Lilia had often tried to trick the Enchantment, getting up in the middle of the night, or staying prone in bed until long past her usual hour -- to no avail; the maid always appeared on time. Lilia sipped the cocoa, wishing that she could decline the too-sweet drink. But Queen Rose I, Lilia’s great-great-grandmother and the Great Benefactress of the kingdom, had decreed that the queen should have a cup of hot chocolate upon awaking. And so the queen did. Queen Rose I had made a Great Sacrifice a...

"First Story: “The Girl in the Windmill” by Wendy Nikel (Originally published in Enchanted Spark. Based on the Italian fairy tale "In Love with a Statue") Maartje van Dijk lived in a windmill. At the age of ten, her vater and moeder perished at sea, and she was sent to live with her Opa on the coast. Despite her grief, she grew to love him and he taught her all about how to grind the village's grains and tend the enormous sails and gears that made the mill run. Her Opa hadn't always run the mill, though. Each evening, by firelight, he would show Maartje the amazing feats of transformation that he used to perform all over the world. When Wendy Nikel isn't traveling in time, exploring magical islands, or investigating mysterious phenomena, she enjoys a quiet life near Utah's Wasatch Mountains with her husband and sons. She has a degree in elementary education, a fondness for road trips, and a terrible habit of forgetting where she's left her cup of tea. Her short fiction has been published by AE, Daily...

sh Fiction: “Connection” by Lynette Meija (Originally published at Daily Science Fiction.) The magician wobbled a little on his bar stool. "Ask me what I did for a living," he said. Somewhere deep inside of him a small voice was shouting to shut up, that he sounded like a fool, but he ignored it. His plane was likely delayed until morning, anyhow. "I already know what you are," she answered. Her pale skin seemed to shimmer a little in the murky atmosphere of the bar. He liked the way the dim light played on her features, rendering half of her in shadow. "And what is that?" His words were slurred. Was this his fourth whiskey, or his fifth? "You're a magician," she said, as if it were obvious. Lynette Meija writes science fiction, fantasy, and horror prose and poetry from the middle of a deep, dark forest in the wilds of southern Louisiana. Her work has been nominated for the Rhysling Award and the Million Writers Award. You can find her online at lynettemejia.com. Main Story: “Starspawn” by Cyril...

Flash Fiction: “Descanso Dream” by Jay Lake & Ruth Nestvold ("Tales of the Rose Knights" #12, originally published at Daily Science Fiction.) Descanso is the smallest of the Rose Knights, and perhaps the strangest. He is a dream made flesh, a pale man with skin the white of the ocean's dead, riding a horse of fog and silk. His banners trail behind him like a wind from the Orient. His smile gleams of starlight and the gentle thoughts of a loving woman.   Jay Lake lived in Portland, Oregon until his death in 2014, shortly before his 50th birthday. His books include Kalimpura from Tor and Love in the Time of Metal and Flesh from Prime. His short fiction appeared regularly in literary and genre markets worldwide. Jay was a winner of the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, and a multiple nominee for the Hugo and World Fantasy Awards. In 2015, he posthumously received the Locus Award for his collection Last Plane to Heaven. Learn more about him and his work at jlake.com. Ruth Nestvold has published.

"First Story: “The Bed of the Crimson King” by Filip Wiltgren (Originally published in Grimdark #9.) The king lies in his big bed under the crimson covers, and dreams of freedom. The bed is not his, not the way the grasses of the savanna were, but he must sleep in it. It is the king's bed, and he is the Crimson King, and he has no choice. He had no choice when he went into the military at thirteen. He had no choice when he shot his commander and formed his own band at nineteen, and he had no choice when he led his men against the soldiers of the Witch King at twenty-six. Now he's an old man lying in a dead man's bed, dreaming of life as a young boy sleeping on the sandy ground. Filip Wiltgren is a writer and tabletop game designer based in Sweden. He's held jobs ranging from coal loader to martial arts teacher -- which are a lot more impressive on paper than in reality -- and his publications range from Nature to Daily Science Fiction. When he isn't writing he spends time with his wife and kids. For... &#

"Flash Fiction: “The Robbed” by Tim W. Boiteau (Originally published at Every Day Fiction.) You can’t find your keys this morning, so your wife drives you to work. At dinner, it seems, the salt is lacking, but when you attempt to add some more, the shaker is bare. The only consolation at the end of such a troubling day, of course, is Aurelius, but he too is absent from the shelf. When sleep doesn’t come, the bedroom grows long, the blankets constrict the body, stretching over with elastic tension, blood stagnates in the head, and the ears sharpen to the muted creeping of thieves, careful things, biding their time in air vents and drains and the narrow crevices between walls, watching through miniscule peepholes. Tim W. Boiteau's fiction has appeared in such places as Every Day Fiction, The Writing Disorder, LampLight, Kasma Magazine, and Write Room. He was a finalist in Glimmer Train’s 2013 Fiction Open contest. Tim holds a PhD in experimental psychology and lectures at Eastern Michigan University.... &

"Flash Fiction: “Hope for Enthos” by Addison Smith (Originally published in Fireside magazine.) The muted horns of passing cars drifted up to Enthos, where he sat on his ledge, peering over the street. The familiar lights and sounds were both comforting and maddening. The scent of flowers washed over him, the blossoms continuing their cycle of blooming and dying under his watch. How much time do I have left? The sun fell below the horizon, casting shadow over the city, but he felt no chill of night on his wings. The wind howled, but it did not tickle the fur of his neck. The gargoyle sat still, stationary. Stone. Addison Smith lives and writes in the wilds of icy Minnesota with a wolf, a baby wolfling, and (one day soon) another human. He tweets as @addisoncs, but it’s mostly an excuse to share photos of his pets. Main Story: “A Proper War” by James A. Moore (Originally published in Grimdark #8.) They found their prey near the edge of the cliff that fell into the Rehkail River a few hundred feet... &

"Flash Fiction: “Myriam” by Jay Lake & Ruth Nestvold ("Tales of the Rose Knights" #11, originally published at Daily Science Fiction.) When the Rose Knight Myriam arrived in the farthest reaches of the magical lands of Hy Rugosa, she was already so pale she soon became known as the Gossamer Knight. She told no one from whence she hailed or why she had sought out the lands of Hy Rugosa, but rumors abounded: that she had assassinated the leader of the Inner Sea, that she had poisoned the Prince in Point-of-Sleep, that she had betrayed her fellow knights in far Chemeketa. Some thought they heard the lilt of the Moonwood in her voice, others the exotic strains of the Farmost West.   One thing all the stories agreed on--she had been banished. She was mourning. And every day, she disappeared a little bit more. Jay Lake lived in Portland, Oregon until his death in 2014, shortly before his 50th birthday. His books include Kalimpura from Tor and Love in the Time of Metal and Flesh from Prime. His short fiction

Flash Fiction: “Dreidel of Dread: The Very Cthulhu Chanukah” by Alex Schvartsman (Originally published in Galaxy's Edge.) Twas the night before Chanukah, and all through the planet, not a creature was stirring except for the Elder God Cthulhu who was waking up from his eons-long slumber. And as the terrible creature awakened in the city of R'lyeh, deep beneath the Pacific Ocean, and wiped drool from his face-tentacles, all the usual signs heralded the upcoming apocalypse in the outside world: mass hysteria, cats and dogs living together, and cable repairmen arriving to their appointments within the designated three-hour window. "This will not do," said Chanukah Henry. "I will not have the world ending on my watch, not during the Festival of Lights." Alex Shvartsman is a writer, translator, and game designer from Brooklyn, NY. More than 80 of his short stories have appeared in Nature, Galaxy's Edge, Orson Scott Card's InterGalactic Medicine Show, and many other magazines and anthologies. He won the 2014...

Flash Fiction: “Under the Bed” by Effie Seiberg (Originally published in Crossed Genres.) I keep it clean under the bed. I go swoosh swoosh swoosh and suck the dust away. Jimmy can’t have a dusty bed. It would make him sick. I don’t want Jimmy to get sick. I love Jimmy. So I keep it clean. Jimmy’s been gone for three nights. Every night, we used to do our special thing. I’d slooooowly start to move. Make the whisperiest of sounds. And Jimmy would pretend to be frightened and he’d scream. His mom would come back into his room and look under the bed. “There’s nothing there, honey,” she’d say. But Jimmy and I would know different. It’s our secret, even though he can’t keep the secret even the littlest bit. But that’s OK. I always forgive him, because I love Jimmy. Effie Seiberg is a fantasy and science fiction writer. Her stories can be found in the Women Destroy Science Fiction! special edition of Lightspeed magazine (winner of the 2015 British Fantasy Award for Best Anthology), Galaxy's Edge, Analog... &#

Feature Story: “The Double-Edged Sword” by Sharon Shinn (Originally published in Elemental: The Tsunami Relief Anthology: Stories of Science Fiction and Fantasy.) I sat at the back of the dark tavern at the table that, in the past five years, had come to be known as mine. Even on the days when I did not bother to leave my house, or leave my bed, no one sat in this booth except me. The townspeople knew better, and strangers who made the mistake of sitting in my place would be told politely by Samuel that the table was reserved. I was the only one who ever sat there, and Samuel was the only one who would approach me while I was in possession. I idly shuffled my zafo cards and began laying out an unspecified fortune. It would be my own, of course; these days, I did not read for anyone except myself. And even then, I was rarely satisfied with the pictures I saw in the cards. Sharon Shinn has published 26 novels, one collection, and assorted pieces of short fiction since her first book came out in 1995....

Flash Fiction: “Myriam” by Jay Lake & Ruth Nestvold ("Tales of the Rose Knights" #10, originally published at Daily Science Fiction.com.) When the Rose Knight Myriam arrived in the farthest reaches of the magical lands of Hy Rugosa, she was already so pale she soon became known as the Gossamer Knight. She told no one from whence she hailed or why she had sought out the lands of Hy Rugosa, but rumors abounded: that she had assassinated the leader of the Inner Sea, that she had poisoned the Prince in Point-of-Sleep, that she had betrayed her fellow knights in far Chemeketa. Some thought they heard the lilt of the Moonwood in her voice, others the exotic strains of the Farmost West. One thing all the stories agreed on -- she had been banished. She was mourning. And every day, she disappeared a little bit more. The Oldest People knew her story, but they did not tell. Jay Lake lived in Portland, Oregon until his death in 2014, shortly before his 50th birthday. His books include Kalimpura from Tor and Love

First Story: “Evil is as Evil Does” by Travis Burnham (Originally published in Aoife's Kiss.) Right in the middle of my nefarious plan to create an enormous ball of bubonic plague-infected fleas, the door gong set my teeth to rattling. I sent Herschel to see who it was. “It's today's virgin,” he rumbled from the end of the hallway. “Well don't just stand there like an idiot, bring her in,” I shouted. “You know the routine.” Herschel is as loyal as any evil master could hope for, but if his intellect were a knife, he'd have trouble cutting butter. Herschel brought her in over his shoulder and placed her on the trapdoor that dropped virgins to the room below where they would meet their violent, bloody deaths at Vilesnoot's claws and fangs. I leaned back in my easy chair, annoyed. “Herschel, remind me to call Green Light Virgins and complain. They're simply cutting too many corners.” Travis Burnham is an SF/F writer and science teacher. His work has previously appeared in Aoife's Kiss, Bad Dreams...

"Flash Fiction: “1348” by Russell Hemmell (Originally published in Strangelet 1.4 and also End of the Year Anthology 2015.) He arrived on Sunday, after a winter of sleep and snow. A jester with clear blue eyes, pale lithe hands and white flowers in them. He smiled and said, I come in peace. I ply my trade with buffooneries and riddles, and the joking tambourine accompanies my laughter. Enjoy my gifts, you beautiful city, and the good time I bring. He bowed in reverence, with the beauty of an angel. And it was Sunday. On Monday Florence woke up at the song of hundred birds, colourful plumes of fast-winged spirits. Sun was bathing the city roofs, and its rays made the Cathedral’s spires shine and glow. Here it comes an unforgettable season, people rejoiced. For the jester had promised. Russell Hemmell is a statistician and social scientist from the U.K, passionate about astrophysics and speculative fiction. His stories have appeared in Not One of Us, Perihelion SF, SQ Mag, and others. Learn more... &nb

Flash Fiction: “In the Timeline Where the Moscow Metro Opened in 1934” by S.L. Harris (Originally published at Daily Science Fiction.) In the timeline where the Moscow Metro opened in 1934, we live together in a khrushchyovka on Bourbon Street and eat green caviar on waffles. Times are hard but we love each other like we never love each other, like we never love anyone else, in all the hundreds of millions of timelines I've seen. S.L. Harris is a writer and archaeologist who lives in Chicago with his wife and daughter and their faithful hound. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Abyss & Apex, Daily Science Fiction, and Plasma Frequency. He occasionally tweets as @sl_harris. Main Story: “The Last Song” by Gerri Leen (Originally published in Reflection's Edge, July 2008.) Haze rises like swamp gas in the capital, and Lupe can smell the exhaust swarming up around him from the traffic stalled on the Avenida La Reforma. The tourists are sweating as they head for the restaurants and shops or back

"Flash Fiction: “Papagena” by Jay lake and Ruth Nestvold ("Tales of the Rose Knights" #8, originally published in Daily Science Fiction.) Papagena was born on the Borderlands, between the sere landscape of the south and the orange plains to the north, a child of two homes, and when she chose to become a Rose Knight, her allegiance was to the plains as well as the desert, to the fertile land of Osverio as well as the harsher but warmer beauty of the Desertlands. She did not wear only one color. Some said her loyalties were divided, but she was true to both, orange and yellow, fighting with an ancient heart for both armies, giving the strength of her sword arm when the orange knights went to battle and the strength of her shield when the yellow knights needed to defend Sandbridge from intruders. As with all of the Rose Knights about whom the tales are told, Papagena was her own agent, free to go where she would and fight with whom she chose, living off booty and the pay from the campaigns in which she...

"Flash Fiction: “Anatomy of an Arrow” by Natalia Theodoridou (Originally published on Daily Science Fiction.) "So, uh, I've been meaning to ask. What's that?" He pointed at the fletching that poked out of a hole in her blouse, a few inches from her chest. It almost dipped in her bowl every time she bent to take a spoonful of soup. She shrugged and looked away. "An arrow." "An arrow." He mouthed the word slowly, as if trying to wrap his mind around each syllable. Natalia Theodoridou is a media and cultural studies scholar, a dramaturge, and a writer of strange stories. Her fiction has appeared in Clarkesworld, Crossed Genres, Interfictions, and elsewhere. Find out more at natalia-theodoridou.com or follow @natalia_theodor on Twitter. Main Story: “Into the Woods, with Zombunny” by Camille Griep (Originally published in Unidentified Funny Objects 3.) Squire Ulrich's very worst day began with cold tea at breakfast, followed by the discovery of a hole in his right greave, and culminating with a lost... &