Oops! All Swords

by Jessie Roy

Blackness, and a ringing in your ears, and the smell of ozone, frankincense, woodsmoke. Something’s happened. An accident. A magical accident.

But you’re conscious, and your heart’s beating. You’re alive, probably. That’s a start.

Vision returns in sparkles, resolving into blinding lines of glitter. You squinch your eyes almost shut as the image clears. It’s your master’s workshop, sort of. Bookshelves and scroll racks, salt-crusted alembics, a human skull perched on the mantelpiece above the motionless flames. Your master in the doorway, caught in the moment of hanging up his pointed hat. But through the haze of your lashes, swords gleam from every surface. Huge zweihanders pierce the countertops; miniature bodkins velvet the floor. Scimitars cross the door, trapping your master in a cage so tight you can see a few white beard hairs at his feet. (Continue Reading…)

The Day of the Sea

by Jennifer Hudak

When the Sea came to our village, she was an old woman. She arrived when the water crested and draped over the earth, its salty fingers pushing out offerings of sea glass and bladder wrack. Her dress trailed behind her, hair tangled with kelp and tentacles. No one doubted that she was the Sea. Everyone was disappointed.

We’d all heard tales about the power of the rising ocean, how it leveled towers and returned rock to sand. How it would destroy everything in its path in order to make its way home, to our village. In those tales, the Sea was a warrior, beautiful and terrible, slashing her way across the continent, swallowing everything in her path. Even when gossips at the market began to whisper about nearby towns swallowed by salt water, about boats crushed like kindling and bones strewn across the ocean floor, even as the smell of salt wafted on the breeze, we did not seek her out. We waited for her to come to us, as the stories had foretold. (Continue Reading…)

The Summer of Lugubriosity

by M. T. Lee

We did the ritual on a Wednesday. Josh brought the candles, I brought the book, and Deek brought the lamb. We’re still not sure where he found it.

“Reckon it’ll work?” The beach wind was chilly, and Deek’s voice was muffled beneath his coat.

“Duh,” I said, taking out the Necronomicon we’d found in the Halswell Community Library three weeks ago. But actually I had no idea ‘cos even though the demon goatfish stuff had gone really well, this one was at the end of the book and written in blood or maybe crappy red ink. Really, this was all Dad’s idea. “You boys should do something with your holidays instead of playing on the TV all the time,” he’d said. I brought this up the next time we hung out. “We boys should do something with our holidays instead of playing on the TV all the time,” I told them. This was mostly because they were playing Mortal Kombat III which I wasn’t really good at and I got bored watching them, but also because when I thought about the holidays ending I always felt kinda sad, so I thought it’d be cool to do a big one before we had to go back to school. Anyway they murmured Yeses from their bean bags so here we were, summoning an ancient sea god from the fathomless abyss. (Continue Reading…)

Counting Fairies

By Victoria Dixon

Inside her carport, Janet Littleton turned off the bike’s grumbling engine and removed her pit bull’s goggles. Buddy wagged his tail until she unbuckled him from the sidecar. He bolted downhill toward the rock quarry.

Janet groaned, praying he didn’t go into the quarry. If she entered, there were too many rocks to count, and she’d never leave. Never be safe again. She whistled through her teeth. Buddy barked but did not return. He must have discovered yet another helpless creature to save. She took the dumplings they’d bought and entered her old clinic, walking across the foyer and through the doorway into her home’s adjoined kitchen. She stowed the dumplings in the fridge, her mouth watering at their greasy scent.

“So much for breakfast.” (Continue Reading…)