He knew he should keep Pancake inside. But the little ginger cat looked so insistent, and meowed so piteously as she scratched at the backdoor, that he relented and let her out. He was worried sick the whole time she was out. There were sightings of hawks and even a coyote in the neighborhood. He imagined her being carried off in airborne talons or in a beast’s jaws. It was a relief when he heard Pancake scratching to be let in again. He opened the door and she sauntered in carrying the largest feather he’d ever seen in her mouth.
Disgusted with the world, he set himself up in a little cabin in the woods. He dug his own well and grew his own food. He even made his own his electricity, which he maintained for emergencies and a few creature comforts. He withdrew from civilization. He spent his time walking the woods, doing the constant upkeep that kept him fed and warm, and just enjoying the quiet rhythm of his days. He told himself he didn’t miss humanity. He told himself he didn’t need anyone. And he never learned the difference that he could have made if he’d stayed.
The skeleton paced the hallway. Reanimated by dark magic, they struggled to remember their former life. Unable to concentrate on anything else, they searched the ground for some clue: A scrap of clothing or a piece of jewelry, maybe. The skeleton shambled through the corridors hoping something would jog their memory. From high above, the necromancer’s vampire lieutenant watched the pitiful display. “Why do you do that to them?” He asked. “I saw you put that one together from a random bone pile.” The necromancer shrugged. “Programming animation is my weakest skill. At least this way they’re moving and angry.”
“Skeleton – French anatomical engraving” by liverpoolhls is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.
My very short story collection, The Mountain’s Shadow is available now from Amazon and Smashwords!
When she heard that her father died, she truncated her studies abroad and returned home. She spent the next two days in airports, texting relations and family friends explaining that her plane had been delayed. She landed just in time for the funeral. After the service, they all told her what a good man he’d been, and how sad she must be. The strain of travel helped approximate something like grief, and she said nothing. Shed known her father better than any of them, and he’d been a bastard in private. Preserving his reputation was her last sacrifice for him.
She is a story on the wind. The Tattered Woman had fought a dozen Imperial soldiers in the market square of Harall before vanishing. She traversed the Sandstorm Wastes alone. She freed an army of Underfolk captives from the Relentless Caravan. She is everywhere and nowhere. If you could find her, the Tattered Woman would say many things. The first is that her name is Rachel. The second is that her legend is almost entirely exaggerated. The third is that a red taffeta ballgown makes terrible survival gear. Finally, she would tell you she just wants to get back home.
The Creature lay on the slab, incomplete but aware. It watched as its creator busied himself with other research, never staying on one project for very long before moving on to the next one. It waited, and occasionally he would spend an hour or two tinkering with the Creature before abandoning again, leaving it inchoate. The Creature figured out how to move on its own, and considered whether or not to demonstrate its progress to the scientist. The Creature knew what it wanted to be and didn’t think its creator would concur. It finished itself and escaped into the night.
The Devil opened a casino to tempt the weak and snare the wicked with bright lights and the promise of easy money. The games were fair, as such things went. But the dealers were trained to string gamblers along until their desperation was at its peak. Then their supervisors would swoop in to offer the unlucky player a deal. Not only was the scheme successful, but it was profitable, too. On His days of rest, God sneaked down in disguise and ran the tables. The casino went bankrupt in a month. Only He knows what He did with the winnings.
The mission bell rang out in the pre-dawn hours of what promised to be a perfect spring day. Another of God’s gifts to the monastery. But then it kept ringing. And all the monks knew what the alarm meant. Working quickly and silently, the men of faith gathered what they needed and made their way to the basement chapel. When all were accounted for, it took three monks to close the stone door behind them. They gathered to pray, but a few cringed when they heard the mighty roars reverberate through the stone. The dragons had returned to Capistrano.
The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles Written by Malka Older Published by Tor
The Skinny: You seem like you might need something cozy right now.
The second novella in Malka Older’s ongoing series, The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles is a delightfully cozy mystery set in the post-Earth colonized world of Giant, née Jupiter. Pleity is Classical Scholar, who studies ancient texts to gather data about the lost biomes of Earth in an attempt to someday recreate them. Mossa is an investigator as well as her once and current romantic partner. They were thrown together again when Mossa’s investigations led her to Pleity’s University in search of a missing and presumed dead scholar in the first book in the series, The Mimicking of Known Successes. The sequel finds Mossa once again calling on Pleity’s help,some time after their initial investigation, as she attempts to locate a missing student. They find no less than seventeen people have gone missing from the University across a number of different fields. Meanwhile, the previous investigation has shake Pleity’s faith in the organization and its methods. The pair travel not just the many linked artificial platforms orbiting Jupiter, but also to the moon of Io, Mossa’s home and the site of the first controversial Jovian settlement. The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles is as enchanting a novella as the first in the series with clever, deep world-building, a cast of lovable space communists, and just enough danger to keep things interesting. Fans will find much to love in this one, and while it spoils the ending of the first book, the opening serves to get new readers up to speed quickly. Like the first book, the story is over too quickly. I would have loved a meatier, less straightforward mystery for them to solve, but everything clicks nicely into place with a satisfying ending. Books three and four in the series are scheduled for future releases, so I can’t wait for the further adventures of these two pseudo-Victorian space goofs. You can find The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles in print from your local bookshop, or in ebook or audiobook from your preferred online retailer.
The outlaw had won. He reclaimed what was stolen from him and saved the day. Years passed, and the thing about endings is that they are only as thick as a sheet of paper. And Justice ebbs and flows like the tide. He smelled smoke on the wind, and heard cries in the night. It was all happening again. Homes were burning. Families were losing everything. People were vanishing. He’d only won a few breaths of fresh air. He told himself that he was well out of it. But when he looked down the bow was already in his hands.
Hugh J. O'Donnell 