by Jason Sizemore
One of the great aspects of being a publisher is that you get to watch talented newcomers become masters of the craft. Apex has been fortunate enough to ride the rising crests of a number of authors as they have went from fairly obscure to well-respected and more widely appreciated. I like to believe that Apex Magazine (and Apex Digest), in some small way, gave an assist.
by Mary Robinette Kowal
Primped and scented and oiled, Pimi held still while Maja broadened her forehead spots with paint. Across the room, Dama writhed and groaned in the grip of sour crop. A doctor oversaw the tortuous task of draining the congealed clumps from her, while the other girls affected not to watch.
by Mary Robinette Kowal
Lena rocked back and forth, feet aching from standing so long, as if the metal floors were harder in the auditorium than anywhere else in the ship. The paper bib she wore rustled as she shifted. The waiting that the high-holy put the prospectives through made Lena nervous. Which was part of the point, of course, and Lena tried not to let her nerves show. There were nine prospectives this quarter, standing in a cluster. Lena knew the other women, but maintained the ship-standard illusion of privacy by ignoring them.
by Mary Robinette Kowal
Lifting the stopper from the vial to his nose, Penn inhaled slowly. Against the neutral backdrop of his ship’s cleanroom, he picked out aromas of quince, elderberry, and bright Martian soil that hinted of blood, with undercurrents of cinnamon and Zeta Epsilon’s fragrantly sweet longgrass. He sighed, blowing the scents out again. The perfume was still out of balance.
by Mary Robinette Kowal
Maxwell Sanders pressed the phone closer to his ear as if that would somehow bring comprehension. “Did you say trolls?”
February 1, 2010 – 8:05 am
by Tobias Amadon Bengelsdorf
9
The battery is a big one, a nice big red one, enough to run the ceiling fan and the turntable at the same time, as long as the fan is on low. And that’s fine. It’s enough of a breeze and doesn’t kick up too much dust that way. Ash, his wife called it, we’re covered in ash. He thought the word lacked a certain creativity.
February 1, 2010 – 8:05 am
by J.M. McDermott
Many years ago, when I was a boy of only ten, I was in a terrible crash on the cliffs south of Io Town, where nights are a deep tundra freeze and afternoons are as hot as a summer on the long plains. Even now, I close my eyes and I can still see Sheila’s face just before she was crushed under two thick layers of plasteel.
February 1, 2010 – 8:04 am
by Colin Harvey
The earth is rich in textures and smells. It hurtles by, your clawed hands scrabbling at earth, stones and tree roots, your prey’s odours hooked into your nostrils, pulling you along with fragrant fingers of meat and blood and ordure. Upwards you go and the too-bright sky burns your eyes and your victims’ screams scour your eardrums, but it doesn’t matter, for your killing bite crunches bone and the hot sweet taste of blood fills your mouth. You spit out the foul cotton and polyester wrapping and as your grasping bite clamps onto the corpse so that you can pull your victim into the hole you erupted from, its head lolls over and you know with a shock of recognition who it belongs to–
February 1, 2010 – 8:03 am
We pose the question: Which release model to you prefer for online fictin magazines? Go to the url below and vote “Monthly” or “Weekly.”
February 1, 2010 – 8:02 am
Keeping the Apex Magazine alien overlord caged and fed with fine and delectable short fiction costs money…a lot of money. Our overlord requires us to pay our writers a fair, professional rate.
To ensure your safety in the upcoming Alien revolution, consider donating or buying a copy of the official Apex Magazine annual omnibus: Descended From Darkness.
January 4, 2010 – 9:05 pm
by Genevieve Valentine
The map is stuck with little green pins where explosions are most likely to affect the tectonic plates. There are circles drawn in black and red, in orange and purple and green. The map key names them: twenty years, ten years, five years, one. The black circles are widest, and marked Xibalba.
January 4, 2010 – 9:04 pm
by James F. Reilly
“Folks, I can safely say that this is something we’ve never seen before,” he said breathlessly. “This massive system literally came out of nowhere and, in the past few hours, has absorbed several smaller systems riding the jet stream, forming a ‘super storm’ that is now blanketing the northeast. We’re talking hurricane force winds, and snowfall at a rate of several inches per hour; in higher elevations, we could see as much as a foot or more an hour, with no sign of slowing …”
January 4, 2010 – 9:03 pm
by Dr. Amy H. Sturgis
Before we decide whether to embrace the future with open arms or run away from it screaming ourselves hoarse, we should sift through and consider the different ingredients that combine to create the popular culture phenomenon surrounding 2012.
January 4, 2010 – 9:02 pm
by Jason Sizemore
Why are we obsessed with the end of the world? Actually, I’d presume it’s not such a difficult question to answer if you dig around. Mortality. Spiritualism. Morbidity. Especially morbidity (at least for me!).
January 4, 2010 – 9:00 pm
To celebrate the end of our first year of becoming a professional level digital magazine, we’re pleased to announce that we will be presenting an award to the best original fiction published by Apex Magazine. The award will be voted on by the fans, meaning you! Voting starts tonight and will continue through January 30th. The story receiving the most votes will be announced on February 1st.
December 7, 2009 – 9:07 pm
by Rochita Loenen-Ruiz
Air limousines floated by like ghosts in a night filled with a jangle of sounds. A mad juxtaposition of chords, wailing voices and crooned-out tunes mangled by the sound of honking horns, curses and the cries of the desperate filled the dark streets. Cordoba’s End, home to migrants and refugees.
December 7, 2009 – 9:07 pm
by James L. Sutter
They’re waiting for him when he comes out of the tank. Whether plainclothes or just another pair of clockers, he can’t quite tell, but the way they avoid looking in his direction tips him off in a heartbeat. When Ari Marvel walks by, you look.
