By Collette Night

I die on the first of June, I think, lying paralysed in a ditch of stagnant water. Dying is strange. Terrifying, really. Choking on every breath, trying to

By Joseph Sullivan

I stirred awake. It took me a moment to realise I wasn’t lying in my bed. I was sitting upright, head hunched over. I briefly thought I had fallen asleep at my desk

By James R. Coffey

The beautifully embossed black & gold party invitation read: Come as the person you'd most like to be! 

Though it had been six months,

By KJ Hannah Greenberg

We ought to have referred to Mrs. Finkelstein as “Dr. Finkelstein” or as “Professor Finkelstein,” or, somewhat informally, as “Dr. F.” Nonetheless, we called her

By J. Sherwood Veith

Why did you kill daddy if it makes you cry?

The child trembles violently, and sobless tears tear from the corners of her eyes. An explosion outside

By G. W. McClary

We’ve been with our tree since I was a child. My mother tells me I was too young to remember the change, but it’s been relayed to me countless times. The mounting data

By J.S. O’Keefe

Artwork by Toni Verkruysse

"Flags are at half-staff in Halifax," said the Colonel. "The Queen has died."

We were eating dinner in the main dining room

By Stephen Lehane Smith

The moon was the second thing they left behind. In the ship’s womb, they dreamt of tides and kelp, oceans rising up to knock down their homes. They crossed the

By Col Hellmuth

Let me introduce myself: my by-line is Mike Bawlsich.

It has doubled throughout (most of) my lifetime as a means of distinguishing myself from the other

By Bart Meehan

Jane 

Connection? 

Mirror Mirror!

How are you Jane ? 

Why is it how are you? Shouldn’t it be how is you? 

No,

By Gerald Brown

I woke to a place that wasn’t my room.

At first, I thought it might be a dream, but the air carried a weight, a hum, like the inside of a machine larger than a

By Kevin J. Phyland

I'm sitting in a park. It's quiet and I'm writing in my journal about how lucky I feel to have been allowed into this community. The diary I hope will

By Norman Goodman

She stepped into the chamber alone, the suit compressing her breath into slow, mechanical gasps. The ship’s interior was not built; it had grown — walls pulsed

By Ed Errington

The public records show it was just another beautiful day in New Queensland. Martin Shore had engaged the external air seals and descended slowly to walkway level 0. He