Black Gate

You know what happens if you neglect Scott H. Andrews for 15 days? He publishes two issues of Beneath Ceaseless Skies, making you look out of touch and behind the times.

So here we are playing catch-up, because Scott publishes magazines faster than I can write about them. Why doesn’t he publish one issue a year, like a normal person?

Let’s start with issue #175, ’cause it has monsters on the cover, and we know what that means (it means it’s awesome). The issue is cover-dated June 11, and contains two short stories, a podcast, and a reprint.

“On Freedom of Agency and the Finding of Lost Hearts” by Ken Scholes
“I’ll kill you in the morning,” I mumbled into the drool I’d made on his pillow.

“Grandmother-nai-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds” by Rose Lemberg
Behind us, a great hole in the ground gaped, but I wouldn’t have dared look into it even if grandmother hadn’t pulled me inside the tent.

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Shimmer #25, cover-dated May 2015, offers four new stories. Three are currently available on the website; the fourth will be available on June 16.

“The Proper Motion of Extraordinary Stars,” by Kali Wallace
Smoke rose from the center of Asunder Island, marring a sky so blue and so clear it made Aurelia’s eyes ache. The sailors had been insisting for days she would see the Atrox swooping and turning overhead, if only she watched long enough, but there was no sign of the great birds.

“The Mothgate,” by J.R. Troughton
We knelt behind the crumbling wall, rifles balanced over its brow, peeking over the moss-stained stone and into the dense trees that lay beyond. I tried as best I could to stop my teeth from chattering, but the winter night was bitterly cold. Mama Rattakin didn’t seem to notice. She was staring toward the tree line, pointing with her black and withered hand.

“Good Girls,” by Isabel Yap
You’ve denied the hunger for so long that when you transform tonight, it hurts more than usual. You twist all the way round, feel your insides slosh and snap as you detach. Your wings pierce your skin as you leave your lower half completely. A sharp pain rips through your guts, compounding the hunger. Drifting toward the open window, you carefully unfurl your wings. It’s an effort not to make a sound.

“In the Rustle of Pages,” by Cassandra Khaw (available 6/16)
Li Jing looks up from the knot of lavender yarn in her hands, knitting needles ceasing their silvery chatter. The old woman smiles, head cocked. There is something subtly cat-like about the motion, a smoothness that belies the lines time has combed into her round face, a light that burns where life has waned.

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