Category: Fiction

Gardner Dozois: In Memoriam, by Jack Dann

I don’t need to tell the reader that Gardner became one of the most important editors in the genre, as influential and essential to the mature state of science fiction as John W. Campbell was to its earlier formation. He was fine tuned to talent; he loved developing it in other writers; and that ability to nurture and develop so many writers, that ability to focus and shape the field…that was genius. Less known, sadly, is that he was a brilliant short story writer. The short form was his métier. Although he lamented that he wasn’t really comfortable with novel lengths, his oeuvre of what I think of as perfect short stories are second to none in or out of the genre. They are true expressions of the poetry that circulated through him like blood.

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Vanishing Acts/Chapter One

                                                                          Vanishing Acts Chapter One – Buddy, 2011   “Chapter One — Buddy, 2011, ” is the first chapter in the latest book from Jaimee Wriston...

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Arthur Shattuck O’Keefe/Fiction

He stopped, turned, and looked at Yugo. For the first time ever, he smiled; the very faintest trace of a smile. But neither mocking nor malicious, no. Yugo felt a sudden sense of kinship and empathy in this smile which both attracted and repelled him, and he knew in that moment that the man with the umbrella would not die today.

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William Crawford/Flash Fiction

  “It’s like a heat wave…”    A Kool, Kool Fool From The Rock ‘N Roll School Shares A Frigidaire Nightmare.   I pulled into El Paso along about half past dead. The weathered wall thermometer hit 99 in the red! The Band, not...

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Fiction/Leslie Brown

  WALKABOUT   by Leslie Brown In the summer of 1969 I told my mother II was going to sublet an apartment in the Cass Corridor. I’d always wanted to live near campus, and this was my last chance, my final quarter of graduate...

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Ken Wetherington/Fiction

One Night in Las Vegas   Jackson and I pushed our way through the crowded casino to the table where Marcos dealt blackjack.  We stood among the spectators, watching as his deck diminished.  When a dozen or so cards remained, he...

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Fiction/Allen Davis

  Fireball   by Allen Davis “Hey chief,” says the big guy in dirty, mustard-colored overalls as you walk up to the store in the village. “Come ‘ere for a sec. I wanna ask ya somethin’.” He’s got a bloodshot face, a bushy,...

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At the Năvodari Camp/Daniel Dragomirescu

The more I wished to go on that journey, the longer the waiting seemed. My father’s stories about seeing the Danube, Saligny’s bridge and everything else were not enough and I was burning with anticipation. I wanted to see myself on that train once and for all.

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