opens the door without really thinking and the man standing before him is himself or rather someone exactly his height (he is shorter than a...

by John Xero Areius tossed the stripped chicken wing aside and fumbled for another in the bucket. He was slumped in a threadbare armchai...

by Sandra Davies Caged by guilt and shadowed bars of branding irons, breasts and belly besmirched by centuries of soot from the roof-supp...

by John Xero Things have been washing up on the shores of alien seas. Wretched, dying things, with brains of pulp. Thousands of red cra...

by Jack Holt They fall in twos. Synchronised pairs of descending death. Crimson and winged creatures, brothers and sisters each. ...

by John Xero Mass immortality had become the bane of Samuel’s life. Science was to blame. No disease, no old age, no natural death. ...

by Nick Roberts We watch the gate. That is our purpose. For a thousand millennia we have been the guardians of the Night Gate. But there ...

by John Xero Purgatory ain’t a place, it’s a job description, and it don’t pay too good. All wages go to the ledger, and the ledger, by d...

by Kymm Coveney Posed on the left pant leg of your old jeans that I wear gardening at the weekends, you held your wings stiffly at attent...

by John Xero His footsteps follow me through moonlit backstreets, ever gaining, into the woods. He shoves me against an old oak, tearin...

by Steve Green The idea for the story came to me in a dream. Today I would give it life. Several hours later and the words are still ...

by John Xero Kyle’s fingers had no knuckles. Sheryl yelped and stumbled backwards, tripping over her discarded clothes and landing p...

by Sandra Davies Rise before May dawn, middle of meadow, wash face in dew. Surrender all common sense: next man met so stunned by my be...

by John Xero The Mercy of the Gods shook as it rode the raging space-time distortions. Gravity grasped at the ship from all sides. Alarm...

by John H. Dromey The newly-appointed editor of the lifestyle section of the local newspaper finagled an interview with a successful medi...

by John Xero In my dreams his head is a black cube, rotating slowly. It shimmers and glints with the galaxies that spin within. He has t...

by Helen A. Howell The wind stung his face and chapped his skin. Its icy fingers lifted the snow into a frenzied dance, to fall as a blin...