interview by Joe Vaz

I once did a writing exercise with some friends in my writing group, trying to think of motivations that could make an evil character do evil things while knowing they were evil. Power over other people was one, immortality was another, and relief from pain was one I came up with. |
From Issue 14 (Oct 2011) |
by William Mitchell

I liked to call it my "dirty little secret". Not that "little" was the word, of course. Understatement had always been a vice of mine; now, however, I had another. For when the captain of an opium clipper is slowly killing himself with his own cargo, it's something he can be excused for wanting to keep hidden. Could you call it a weakness? Some might. Could I have stopped? Maybe, if I’d wanted to go mad in the process. For if you'd ever experienced the kind of pain that makes you think you'd rather die than carry on living, then perhaps you'd understand why I did it. |
From Issue 14 (Oct 2011) |
by Mark Sykes

You know the old adage: as one door closes another one opens. Is the end ever really the end? Or could Armageddon, in whichever form it takes, simply be nothing more than a global cleaning of the slate? The sudden deletion of 99.9% of the world’s population (leaving about seven million people, which sounds like quite a lot, but trust me, it ain’t) is just about the biggest turning over of a new leaf you can get, and we’d be remiss not to take the opportunity with both hands and run with it. |
From Issue 14 (Oct 2011) |
interview by Joe Vaz

It was one of the rare stories that came to me instantly, all at once, in a lightning bolt containing the plot, characters, world, and moral. Someone else wrote it, I think, and I simply downloaded it from their consciousness, in a kind of psychic plagiarism. |
From Issue 14 (Oct 2011) |
by A.A. Garrison

They left in the gray of morning, Penning and his only son, Willam. By carriage, the city was a half day's journey. The treasons were at high noon. The two mounted the carriage's uncushioned bench and Penning started the horses, the chinked, tumbledown house drifting past. Willam followed it with his head, Henri on the porch and waving. Willam called out, "Bye, Mama!" and waved back. The humble property was soon out of sight. It was Willam's ninth birthday. |
From Issue 14 (Oct 2011) |
Hendrik Gericke
First off, you have to do your prep work. It's easy to figure out the composition and general light balance in the early stages, so lots of thumbnail sketches are the order of the day. From the outset I work in photoshop, digital painting is a good tool as it allows a lot of freedom to change and rework without making a mess. From there you scale it up to the full resolution and begin refining it. The rest of it is basically round after round of tightening, making sure the eye flows across the space and to the correct points. It's essentially the same as an oil painting, but more premeditated.
Read more »by Joe Vaz

Our Oct 2011 issue is once again packed with original fiction starting with our cover story which will be available from 4th of October, beautifully illustrated by Hendrik Gericke, “The Treasons”, by A.A. Garrison which is about a father and son road trip across a desolate land. |
From Issue 14 (Oct 2011) |
by Mark Sykes

People of Earth, I have a warning for you, we’re all going to die in a rain of fire from the sky!!! I know this because I watch a lot of sci-fi movies. And the general message that these movies send out is that if you’re not from here and you visit Earth, vast oceans of virtually impenetrable human ignorance await you. Even if your mission is one of peace, exploration or discovery, you’re still in for a shitty, shitty time. |
From Issue 13 (Sept 2011) |
interview by Joe Vaz

Damien Filer’s stories and poems have appeared in dozens of books and magazines. His short story collection From Blood to Water includes stories recognized in the Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror and recommended for the Nebula award. Filer is a grant recipient from the California Institute of Contemporary Arts and a graduate of the Clarion Writer’s Workshop. |
From Issue 13 (Sept 2011) |
by Damien Filer

“What is this pain down in my seed?” Herman was prone to wonder, of a day. He would fidget and shift, so restless there at the dinner table, grease beading up on his big ole forehead under the shine of the fluorescent light. |
From Issue 13 (Sept 2011) |
