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fiction

Dead Set By Richard Kadrey

IN THE January 4 ISSUE

FROM THE 2014 Articles,
andEvery Other Book,
andFantasy & Fangs,
andJesus Ibarra
SECTIONS

by Jesus Ibarra


Richard Kadrey, best known for his Sandman Slim urban fantasy series, enters the world of YA fiction with Dead Set. Not a completely unexpected thing, as YA fiction has become an incredibly popular genre, with almost every popular urban fantasy author writing a YA novel. However, Dead Set strangely does not read or feel like a YA adult novel. It doesn’t focus on a lot of the current YA tropes such teenage romance, someone finding their destiny and or trying to save the world. Kadrey avoids these trappings by making Dead Set all about dealing with grief– specifically the grief of the teenage character, Zoe, who is still mourning the loss of her father.

{ 4 comments }

by Cynthia Chow


Lack of height has never hampered five foot tall private detective, Sean Sean, the tracer of lost persons, collector of evidence of malfeasance and revealer of fraudsters and thieves. However, for his current cases, Sean’s greatest tasks will be trying to investigate the motivations and identities of his actual clients. The probably-not-his-real-name, Mr. Gehrz, is using his cash retainer to hire Sean to find Tiffany Market, a woman with whom Gehrz claims to have once had a relationship but who has since disappeared.

{ 3 comments }

by Elaine Faber



One October weekend Mom took Sissy and me to the Leger Hotel in Mokelume Hills, in the Sierra Mountains. She left us in the room while she went sightseeing. We stepped through the windows that opened onto the balcony where the prostitutes used to sit, according to the maid, advertising their wares. Coming back inside, we could just make out the wispy outline of an old guy sitting on the sofa. His face was covered with gray whiskers and he was missing a front tooth. He waved a gnarled hand. “Excuse me. Could I trouble ya’ to help me move on to the here-after?”

{ 5 comments }

by Kristin Cosentino



First of all, let me just say that I have a pretty tough life. I’m not trying to get sympathy; I’m just telling it like it is. It’s been just my mom and me ever since my dad ran off and my brothers and sisters found new places to live.

{ 1 comment }

by Diana Hockley


“Do you think you can do it?” he asked.
“I know I can!” she purred. “And if I can, will I get the job?”
“Yeah. Go for it. Knock yourself out, sweetheart.”

{ 4 comments }

by Daryl Wood Gerber


“David!” I pounded on the apartment door. “David, are you in there? Dave—”
The door swung open and my breath caught in my chest. David hung from a rope in the middle of the room, his face blue, body slack, boxers soiled. All the booze and crap I had consumed last night gushed up my throat. I drove it down and stared harder in an attempt to memorize the scene.

{ 4 comments }

Farang: Mystery Short Story

IN THE May 25 ISSUE

FROM THE 2013 Articles,
andMysteryrat's Maze,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by Jill Amadio


I knew before I hit the ground I had been struck by a farang. I could smell the meat in his pores in that split second of contact, as his shoulder sent me reeling halfway across the street. Steak-loving American soldiers have become easy prey in the Vietnamese jungle where they are fighting the war and their odor is just as recognizable here in Bangkok.

{ 1 comment }

by J.R. Chabot


I have my own room. Of course, since Mamma died, the whole house is mine. Mamma left me the house and the money. But this room is really my own. I grew up here. All my treasures and all my secrets are here. My father left before I remember, so it was always just Mamma and me. And now she’s gone.

{ 0 comments }

by Paula Gail Benson


The quest for scholarships is a rite of Spring, but in my twelve years as a law school admissions director, I had never seen a situation like this one.
I’d attended plenty of meetings with potential students, seeking to optimize their chances at partial or full scholarships. What I had not previously encountered was a student-parent-financial-package-tag-team.

{ 2 comments }

by Paula Gail Benson


For four months, in February of my sophomore year in high school– now almost thirteen years ago– I decided that for all practical purposes my life had ended at age fifteen. I wasn’t being overly dramatic, just realistic. What hurt the most was the fact that the end was my own fault.

{ 1 comment }

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