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"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 Gunnar De Winter
**********warning: Disturbing, ambiguous, adult story. violence.*********** I am a monster.
Published on Apr 9, 2021
by Melissa Mead
"My loyal huntsman," the Queen purred. The Huntsman began to sweat beneath his uniform. He stood straight, then bowed low. "Your Majesty."
Published on Apr 8, 2021
by Marcus Vance
Giant neon koi swam through the intersection, followed by a banner for a dry-cleaning service. Never could remember what the place's name was, but I always loved driving past Fifth avenue for the fish. Tonight was no different.
Published on Apr 7, 2021
by Stephanie Ascough
The thing about being a girl is this: you are far, far more likely to be chosen. Darius says the fates decide. But no one can ignore the fear in our leader's eyes on the day of choosing. No one can ignore his rabid relief when a girl's name is drawn for the yearly sacrifice. On the day I am chosen, I can only feel the dull weight of inevitability. No one in this village, even after I’m gone, will ever truly feel relief. Only numbness. I guess in this way the victim is linked to those left behind.
Published on Apr 6, 2021
by Sean Vivier
From where he hid behind the boulder, Sir Karl already saw the dragon in slumber. He imagined such vast wealth beneath that bulk. And soon he’d liberate it from the dragon’s greed. He rose, sword at ready, and he crept closer to the recumbent beast. He halted, though, as soon as he saw what lay below the fell creature. Only scrolls lay there, not a jewel or coin or gold bar to be found. Not a single treasure. He gaped, and something small and offended escaped his clutched throat.
Published on Apr 5, 2021
by Joy Kennedy-O'Neill
Mari lugs two heavy suitcases into the office and heaves them into the corner. "Where's yours?" she asks. I point to a half-filled garbage bag. "That's all you got?" "I've never done this before." She tsks at my inexperience. Then she takes her cubicle's photos and cuts out her husband with scissors as sharp as her curses last week, when she found his secret texts. She dumps the massacred photos into one of her suitcases, along with a snow globe from their Saint Croix vacation. Finally, she tosses in an empty vase for good measure.
Published on Apr 2, 2021
 
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