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Not just rockets & robots...
What is Science Fiction?
"Science Fiction" means—to us—everything found in the science fiction section of a bookstore, or at a science fiction convention, or amongst the winners of the Hugo awards given by the World Science Fiction Society. This includes the genres of science fiction (or sci-fi), fantasy, slipstream, alternative history, and even stories with lighter speculative elements. We hope you enjoy the broad range that SF has to offer.

Recent Stories

by Mary E. Lowd
Published on Aug 23, 2017
by Jack Bragen
BODY FOR SALE, LEASE OR TRADE: Must have transaction soon!!! This male specimen is a bargain! Owner threatened with foreclosure. Male, 33 years, fully intact, 145 I.Q., with numerous apps and utilities. Height, 5'11. Weight, 220 Lb, 34" waist and 44" chest, with toned and developed skeletal muscle. Has minor kidney issue. Tele calls only, please--no electronic solicitations.
Published on Aug 22, 2017
by Shannon Fay
I was the one who told Rhiz about the Folx bush. "It flowers in the spring, little pink blossoms that sit on thick, knobby branches," I said, placing the seed in Rhiz's hand and folding her fingers over it. "When you try and trim it, it just grows back stronger. Tearing one out of the ground is like trying to rend a full-grown oak. It's hale and tough and beautiful, just like you."
Published on Aug 21, 2017
by James Van Pelt
Spices and creative thinking in the kitchen offer the diner looking for the best culinary experience no reason to despair in these new and challenging times. The stores have long ago been sacked, of course, shelves cleared, and many burned to the ground, but they were obvious targets. You won't discover the ingredients you need there, and certainly not the main courses. The last time I found anything useful in a store was last year, and it was a box of oatmeal that had been kicked under a counter. Mice had been at it, but what remained, cooked with a pinch of wild peppermint leaves (bruised but not shredded), and topped with three poached robin eggs smelled delicious and has lingered in my taste bud's memory since.
Published on Aug 18, 2017
by Lynette Mejia
The little girl holds the delicate tissue paper carefully between thin, soot-stained fingers. The scissors are old and dull, handles missing their plastic covers. Blisters have formed on her hands where they've pinched, though she barely notices. Pain is an old friend now, and besides, she doesn't mind the company. She works slowly, deliberately, tracing the shapes with the stub of a burned pencil before cutting them into small, wrinkled hearts. The translucent scraps pile around her feet like snow, and she smiles at the memory of winter.
Published on Aug 17, 2017
by Richard Wu
The morning after the storm, the boy heads to the beach in search of scraps. The sun casts a soft glow across the seashore, transforming murky beach sediment into a kaleidoscopic splattering of color--reds and yellows, greens and blues, a rainbow of plastiglomerate fragments flashing in the light, like flecks of paint strewn across a canvas of sand. The boy watches the rippling colors dance beneath the water's roiling surface as wave after muddy wave unfolds over the shore. His eyes study the back-and-forth cadence, a rhythm accompanying the twirling flurry of loose plastiglomerate sediment.
Published on Aug 16, 2017
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