Niteblade #13 - Rosewinter

Fiction

The Blue-eyed Boy by Ben A. Bell
Then she ate dinner in peace, sitting on her trench coat as if she were having a picnic. She managed to get most of him down before she felt full. Getting out with the leftovers required ingenuity. But, after all — waste not, want not.

More to Me by Christine Dougherty
I glance back at myself. She is doubled over, laughing so hard that tears are running down her cheeks. I hear her, but it’s a dim echo in my head — like someone laughing in a distant room. The class is becoming uneasy.

The Little Mermaids by Laura Garrison
One of the mermaids swam over to the side of the raft and poked her head and shoulders out of the water. She was about five inches long, and her tail was a deep cornflower blue.

The Conversion by Kevin Gordon
As much as I wanted to return to the encampment, I knew it would do little good. The foul mist-lip Elekarina had broken our will by her conjuring, and no pretty words would set it right without Brieghel and Karin to rally us.

Incense Sticks by Ajay Vishwanathan
Their men are ashes in sacred urns or away, deep into the forest where it is like going to war. Often, wives in white garb brace themselves to receive maimed remains.

Rosewinter by Megan Arkenberg
I felt Corentin’s cry of pain like a sharp blade of ice beneath my ribs. The first joint of his little finger was gone. Blood flooded the ground in front of him, flowing over the broken edges of the stone and soaking into the bare earth around it.

Poetry
Aitvaras by Lee Clark Zumpe
Finicky by Francis W. Alexander
Better Than The Real Thing by Mark Evans
Dreaming in MSG by Helen R. Peterson
Red Star Line by Jennifer Crow