Apex Magazine
Haunt Me, Then
One of the beautiful and annoying joys about writing, about the stories that take root in our minds and psyches, is that they’ll never really go away until they get...
Haunt Me, Then
One of the beautiful and annoying joys about writing, about the stories that take root in our minds and psyches, is that they’ll never really go away until they get...
Denizens of My Face
When I notice someone, Mr. Yoshiba in this case, from a distance, I do what I always do. I feign poor eyesight.
Denizens of My Face
When I notice someone, Mr. Yoshiba in this case, from a distance, I do what I always do. I feign poor eyesight.
A Final Song for the Ages
The Esperanza was doomed. The generation ship moaned as it tore apart module by module, plate by plate.
A Final Song for the Ages
The Esperanza was doomed. The generation ship moaned as it tore apart module by module, plate by plate.
Interview with Author J.S. Oriel
In the darkly delightful “Orion and His Moon” by J. S. Oriel, a sentient supply ship who just wants to do things right is forced to go off-course to check...
Interview with Author J.S. Oriel
In the darkly delightful “Orion and His Moon” by J. S. Oriel, a sentient supply ship who just wants to do things right is forced to go off-course to check...
As Ephemeral as Bubbles
The eyeless children appeared outside my cottage at midnight, blowing bubbles through their wands, bubbles that reflected moonlight like stained glass.
As Ephemeral as Bubbles
The eyeless children appeared outside my cottage at midnight, blowing bubbles through their wands, bubbles that reflected moonlight like stained glass.
Orion and His Moon
Space is loud, crowded with the teeth grinding of radio galaxies, the whine of accretion disks spinning dust into strings.
Orion and His Moon
Space is loud, crowded with the teeth grinding of radio galaxies, the whine of accretion disks spinning dust into strings.
We Who Hunt Alexanders
I killed my first Alexander at seventeen. That was also the age I fell in love, an emotion supposedly beyond my kind.
We Who Hunt Alexanders
I killed my first Alexander at seventeen. That was also the age I fell in love, an emotion supposedly beyond my kind.