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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.
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Recent Stories

by John D. Sperry
Walter Stanwick grabbed his usual newspaper and cup of coffee from the P&D Market on the corner of 53rd and Industrial. It was his routine. In Walter's world, consistency was the secret to a long life. "I'm sorry, sir, but you'll overdraw your account."
Published on Aug 20, 2014
by Tara Isabella Burton
***Editor's Note:Adult Language, Mature Themes*** Miles is an empath. "Gets it from his father," says his mother. "Always all about him."
Published on Aug 19, 2014
by Kary English
I've never liked this airport. The endless corridors of white on white remind me of a hospital, but this is the only place I can talk to Stewart after the heart attack. He's not always here, but I come every day to look for him. Today he's sitting in his favorite spot in the departure gate, a corner seat connected to a low table. I tried sitting on the table once, but we can't talk unless I sit on his right, where I was for the trip to Hawaii.
Published on Aug 18, 2014
by James Van Pelt
"That woman is asking about you again, Dustin," said Lucienne, the grad assistant. She'd braided her hair into a blonde rope that hung down her back. Like all his grad assistants, she didn't look old enough to drive. Dustin ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. The morning sun slanted through the lab, and he realized he'd forgotten to sleep.
Published on Aug 15, 2014
by Jonathan L. Miller
I am sitting in a chair. The Man has put me here. He rubbed my head and I thumped my tail. I look next to me and see another man. He is also in a chair. The Man is talking to him, but he does not say my name, so what he says must not be important.
Published on Aug 14, 2014
by Melissa Mead
"It's time to take the children into the forest," said Stepmother. Father winced. "Must we?" he said. I winced too. All the feasting in the world couldn't erase my memory of Stepmother angry, back when she was teaching me and Gretel to call her "Stepmother," and the man "Father."
Published on Aug 13, 2014
 
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