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The Wanderer by M. L. McCortney

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A deserter crash lands on an alien world and has a crisis of conscience. Image generated with OpenAI If not for a sudden cold breeze, Gaensyn might have slept forever. Even with his eyes still closed, his head throbs along with a dozen cuts and bruises and burns scattered over him. Gaensyn's eyes flutter open. He hangs upside down in his pilot's chair. Where there used to be viewport glass, there is now only sand and glass fragments, the ship having planted into the ground. Control screens on the console are broken and dead, leaving the only light to leak in from cracks in the ruined hull. Where am I? He tries to trace back time, but his mind throws up walls of splitting pain. He remembers gunfire, blood, screams. Yes, he remembers deserting. How could he forget? It's only been a few days since then. The green blood crusting the slate-gray skin of his hands remains a testament to how close he came to dying at his former comrades' hands in doing so. But ...
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No Safe Word by Bud Pharo

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Sam is a sci fi geek who has trouble getting second dates, until he finds a costumed speed dating event. Image generated with OpenAI Sam had misgivings about attending a sci-fi-themed speed dating event, but he couldn't pass up another opportunity to dress up as his favorite type of cosplay character, a space pirate. Besides, he hadn't had a meaningful date or even a non-meaningful casual hookup in well over a Martian year, which is 668 sols or 687 Earth days. Either way, it seemed like an eternity for a young man in his early 30s. Trying to be helpful, Ted, his older brother, conducted a dating boot camp to improve his brother's game. Ted coached him on the finer points of making a good first impression. He stressed the importance of treating women with respect. "Remember, Sam, try to be courteous, not cute. Make eye contact, say their name, and, most importantly, do not dominate the conversation." Sam rolled his eyes as he endured yet another in ...
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The Feeling of Running by Mitchell Toews

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Matthew visits a friend in Saskatchewan to get away from his troubled mother, and on the way back he encounters some trouble on the train from conductor Murphy and passenger Eddie. Image generated with OpenAI "Now, Matthew, here's a special surprise... There's a teen dance party at a cabin by the lake near town," Mrs. Dannard says. I say I'm shy about going. She says we'll talk about it tomorrow. So I have to go. Crap. It's the first day of my visit to my friend Craig in Saskatchewan and I'm nervous and feel out of place. The Dannards moved here from Manitoba this spring when Craig's dad was transferred by the bank. I got here by train, by myself. I made it without any trouble. That night, I lie in the top bunk in Craig's room watching moths butt against the streetlight. Some are as big as a small bird. The farmers' fields come right to the edge of town, a waist-high border of green and gold. With his voice coming out of t...
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Evergreen by Teresa Koeppel

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A woman is haunted by recurring nightmares about a menacing fiery figure on a mountaintop, and must undergo a dramatic transformation to save herself. Image generated with OpenAI This was never who I expected to be. He came to me in my dreams, like a shining Freddy Krueger, radiating light and menace in equal measure. He was overbright, sharply outlined, unreal even by the standards of dreams, and my subconscious recoiled from him automatically. When he spoke, his voice flashed through me like a lick of flame, and the rest of my dream fell away until there was only the two of us standing on a mountain. "Do not be afraid," he said, and I flushed cold with fear. "I won't hurt you," he said, and his golden eyelids widened ever so slightly, the rich black pupils beneath dilating. The dazzling brilliance of his skin stung my eyes, and though I could not clearly remember his features later, the thought of him reminded me of dates gone wrong, of w...
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Magda's Boy by Matthew Ross

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Magda's Chihuahua, Skipper, tries to defend his master when danger looms. Image generated with OpenAI I'm dreaming that I'm napping in the yard, the late afternoon sun warm on my fur, when I'm ripped awake by the shattering of broken glass. It's dark, and the air is cool. For a moment, I think I'm back in the Other House, where breaking glass meant that Old Master had been drinking. I whimper involuntarily. My ears prick up and I quiver, anticipating the harsh, ugly sound of angry voices. But all I hear is the slow, even ticking of the old grandfather clock that Magda winds every night before bedtime, humming to herself as she works. Even when Old Master wasn't drinking, the Other House was always filled with angry voices. Magda's house sounds of humming, and laughter, and gentle whispers that I'm a good boy. The only angry voices at Magda's come from Those Damned Kids, and Magda would never allow them inside the house. They make ...
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