“Relax, Nana. It’ll be fine.” Lili crossed two fingers behind her back, blowing a frizzy curl out of her face. It would be fine. It must be fine. Or she’d never escape the greasy walls of their tiny spaceship-turned-food-truck. There’s got to be more to life than noodle bowls.
“Ya,” her grandmother muttered.
Tony took a long drag from the cigarette as he glared at the tattered sign on his office door. “Private ye.” He exhaled, and a cloud of gray smoke blocked the letters from his vision. He stared at the smoldering cigarette butt before rubbing it onto blank space
Read it now
The release date for Season Two’s Stories That Sing anthology draws ever closer. To celebrate, we have a treat for you! Not only do we get to introduce you to another Season Two Featured Author, but we get to let you in on a little secret… she also created the fantastic art that we’re using
Read it now
Laurva was hungry. So very hungry.
And alone.
Suffocating darkness encased her. She was completely sealed in. Instinct overruled her uncertainty, and the gloom diffused as she gnawed the walls.
Chomp. Chew. Gulp. Smack. Swallow. She emerged, surrounded by sickening sounds of others feeding.
I’m not alone. This awareness wasn’t comforting, but hunger drove her out.
Ral stumbled into the smoky tavern and allowed himself the indulgence of sitting next to one of the blazing torches mounted along the walls. Dangerous, perhaps, but at this point he didn’t care. He needed to get away from the presence of the Shadow.
A barmaid brought him a glass, but he didn’t drink,
I pulled the handcuffs from my belt and turned to the drug dealer, whom my partner held at gun point. The guy had somewhere in the area of twenty-seven arms and depending on what family he was from might have another—usually with a gun—hiding up one of his noses. I groaned.
Read it now
No one entered the Forest unless they were unwilling, arrogant, suicidal, or mad, but desperation would make a mother do many things.
At the edge of the moisture-net field, Ever crouched with her infant son, Spear, wrapped in her cloak.
Behind her lay the base where the Taa and Marzr warred.
I pretend not to notice when Sarah and Cricket disappear into the woods behind our property. Normally, I would warn her not to wander too far, but I can see it. I can see the familiar glimmer around the small wooden fence and between the trees. So, I look away. It’s not my place.
Read it now
We’re another week closer to the release of our Season Two: Stories That Sing anthology. That means that it’s time to introduce you to another of our Featured Authors! Carla Hoch has studied a buffet of martial arts: hapkido-based self-defense (whatever that is), MMA, Muay Thai style kickboxing, taekwondo, street defense, Filipino martial arts, iaido
Read it now
Havok’s new bi-monthly Story Podcast, featuring “Old-Fashioned Letters” by Dalia Grigorescu and the voice talents of narrator Magnus Carlssen.
Read it now
Morning light filtered through the jungle mist, bedewing the dirt below and the life teeming within it. Kithoor adjusted her weight in the saddle and pressed her bare, malachite-hued legs against the sides of her mount. Snorting, the scaly, barbed monstrosity turned its crested head. He clawed the mud and bellowed.
Read it now
Eamon pressed his back against the stairwell’s cold cement wall, an icy chill brushing between his shoulder blades.
Of all the other spawn-filled dredge pits in Chicago, why did this particular sceallóg have to spirit Lorna away to the fae market?
Reaching inside his leather coat, he fingered the grip of the handgun
Recent Comments