Cody Schell
ART of the Solar System #15
by Cody Schell
Don Norum
The Art of Forgetting
by Don Norum I shut my eyes and see your face. My memX brings you back not just as a vibrant swirl of sunlit laughter, but the shiver at my fingertips as they brush the short hairs on your neck, the indignant flaring of your nose at the ghost of
Liz Levin
YOU ARE INVITED TO THE ARTIST’S UNMAKING
by Liz Levin Which artist? * They made you feel seen, their protagonists your double. But when the artist championed the overlooked, they never meant you. * They penned diabolical monsters you longed to vanquish. But when the artist confessed that every character was them in disguise, they should have added, “Especially
MM Schreier
<gobble>
by MM Schreier I shouldn’t have cared that Charles was getting married. I left him. People always say they were the one that did the leaving, but in this case, it was true. Still, it hurt. The situation was complicated. When he changed his Facebook status to “engaged,” I
Cody Schell
ART of the Solar System #14
by Cody Schell
Matt Bliss
Even Talking Trees Die
by Matt Bliss The tree talked to me. “I have something to tell you,” it said to me in a voice clearer than an August night in South Fork. I was only seven then, awkward with those pudgy little arms and fingers that scraped and bloodied against the bark that
Patrick Hurley
Wings of the Gray Swallow
by Patrick Hurley The gray swallow rode the wind over wood and stream until it grew tired. It landed softly on the bare branch of a withered tree that stood alone in the midst of a smoking field. It took no notice of the red-haired shieldmaiden clad in gleaming
ART of the Solar System
ART of the Solar System #13
by Cody Schell
Callum Rowland
Healing Properties of a Hypodermic to the Hippocampus
by Callum Rowland I used to love hospitals. Being inside them. Their corridors and wards, as familiar as the veins crawling up my arm. The creaking leather chairs, womb-like in their enveloping. Used to invent symptoms just to go back, just to be surrounded by monitoring equipment and pious
Catherine Yeates
Epiphany at the Temple of the Shadow Goddess
by Catherine Yeates Steam poured off the seared edges of the columns that littered the temple floor. Brother Anselzar stepped carefully through the wreckage, his long robes trailing over the rubble. The light of a dim and cloudy sky filtered onto the broken altar. Behind it, the obsidian statue of
Christopher Degni
Bramblethwaite, Malinor, and Todd
by Christopher Degni Bramblethwaite hadn’t expected the Chosen One to be so… greasy, but Chosen Ones came in all forms. He’d consulted the Oracle of Amatar multiple times; there was no chance of error. This young man holding a bag of Fritos in one hand and a Switch
Elijah J. Mears
At the Threshold, There was Light
by Elijah J. Mears I don’t know how long I’ve been looking for a way out—it feels wasteful to count the seconds here, at the end of time. But I know it must be there. In the depths of my heart, I know that you wouldn’t