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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 Ash Harrington
You died on your fifteenth birthday. As you sprawl on the couch a week later, you think that dying on your birthday might be the saddest thing you can think of. Your parents certainly aren't taking it well. Your mother hasn't been able to bring herself to return your presents, or even unwrap them, so they sit in a painfully festive pile in a corner of the living room. "If only you'd lived to open them," your dad says. "We chose some great stuff for you this year. You would have loved it."
Published on Aug 17, 2018
by Claire Bartlett
The rats, we know. We drowned them in nets in the river, and now our town is paved with bones. Thighbones, rib bones, vertebrae, fibulas. Even finger bones. Rat fingers look remarkably like human ones when stripped down past the skin. We ate them, then we used them to decorate our gutters, to ward off drought and pestilence. We remember the famine by the twisting of our grandmothers' guts. Our children are still born with hunger pangs. They grow up running their tongues across their lips, as though they crave some meat they cannot have.
Published on Aug 16, 2018
by Tais Teng
Tinder did an update, right in the middle of a session. Everything was reset to neutral. I had to fill in that whole stupid list before they would send a new picture. Are you identifying as female/male? Followed by that whole smorgasbord of letters, ending in "asexual--same sex Platonic."
Published on Aug 15, 2018
by Meagan K McKinley
"Stiletto heels are named after stiletto daggers for a reason," she says, though she knows she'll get no response as she flushes the last of the bloody toilet paper. Even the private bathrooms have fancy hand towels, so she uses one to dry her shoe before she tosses it in the laundry basket. She'd laugh at her reflection if she weren't so well trained; glass slippers don't go so well with spandex shorts and a lace-topped corset. She'd had to let the prince take off her dress. After he'd seen the skinsuit though, well, she'd done what was needed. The stained suit is burning in his fireplace now, along with the bloody gloves. The blue ball gown is a lonesome girl's best friend. She steps into the poufy skirts, slides her arms into the cap sleeves, and reaches behind herself to do up the clasps on the bodice. A quick check in the mirror assures her each one is aligned; it's no harder than doing up a bra day after day. Elbow length white gloves cover the scrubbed raw skin of her hands and wrists. This pair was tucked in pockets she'd sewn inside the skirts. They won't find fingerprints. Her father taught her better than that before he was betrayed and executed by the very prince she'd charmed tonight with shy praise and coy eyes.
Published on Aug 14, 2018
by Holly Lyn Walrath
When Aria cast the first spell, it was like filling a quarry in her belly she never knew existed. Saying the words and knowing they would work filled her with a sensation of wholeness, with the utter totality of truth. And hot on the heels of this came the rush of excitement, the startled joy of discovery, the blush of success. Sure, she was only trying to lift the stain from the carpet so her mother wouldn't find out about her clumsy attempt at smoking, but it was something, right? Later, at breakfast, she absentmindedly cursed and levitated the milk. Her mother cried out in delight, "Your first spell!"
Published on Aug 13, 2018
by Dustin J Davis
***Warning: Story Content Mature and Disturbing Near-Future.***
Published on Aug 10, 2018
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