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Etherea Magazine #15

Etherea Magazine, October 2022. A collection of wonderful speculative fiction, from authors around the globe.

Ledge by Stacey McEwan and Gargantuana’s Ghost, by Patrick Barb are reviewed by Katie McIvor

The Stories:

The actor’s face, once renowned for its chiseled jawline, appeared gaunt, and his sunken cheeks were covered by several days of stubble. Bonasera felt a pang of sympathy for him. In his line of work, he rarely met clients at their best – Epitaph, Incorporated, by Matthew Ross

The red firelight gleamed from cloudy eyes set in sunken sockets. She was old be-yond guessing, her skin blotched and sagging. She met him with a skeletal smile that seemed blighted by every malady the gods could conjure. Trembling, almost fleshless hands beckoned him in – A Haggling, by Rick Danforth

A cloud had settled over her brain. She slept all the time and had to do extra home-work with Mum to keep up in school. She’d still smile, but it always looked like a massive effort, as if something were always trying to drag her face into a frown – The Long People, by Nick Petrou

Dusk and dawn are always the most dangerous times to surf – the ocean’s cold wolves are most active then, slinking along isolated shore breaks, hunting for a slippery meal; they’ll take anyone they can find. Still, there are surfers who can’t re-sist. All the mighty waves surging in and sliding out, tempting them, tempting me, like a baptism so casual even an atheist could concede – Ocean Wolf, by Zena Shapter

The sun had set hours ago, and the bitter wind cuts through my thin jumper, permeating it with the scent of the dark and brutal water. I hadn’t planned to spend so long here, and the wind chills me to the bone, yet I am reluctant to leave. Even after all this time, I remain under Tamsin’s spell – December’s Daughter, by Austin P. Sheehan

Sirens blared as Doshka bolted through the heart of the facility. A guard lunged for her, but she danced out of his reach, and he stumbled. The medal around Doshka’s neck blazed, and magic trickled through her muscles like warm water. She exploded forward and ducked under his outstretched arm, stepped behind him, and slid her forearm into a tight chokehold around his neck – Moonlight Run, by Salvatore Pesaturo

Julie placed her cup on the ground to one side and stepped up to the drain. She nudged the mewega with the toe of her right beige patent flat. Despite having only four limbs to hold on with, it wobbled but stayed put. Julie crouched and clicked her tongue, hesitating – As the Gentle Rain, by Kiera Lesley

“Fifth decade, May 23, 5:12 Vesta time. A mild case of Callis praedictionem. It grows out of the patient’s left ear and cups the left side of his face. Stalks are carved deep in the right and back sides of the patient’s neck. Most likely prescient already. Purplish grey, ciliary cap. Smell is pungent but bearable.” – Callis Praedictionem, by Renan Bernardo

Sore muscles screaming, I retreat to the end of my chain, but instead of beating me, he drops a bucket of meat and hums a song as he holds his hand at my nostril. “It’s alright, my fair Kelekona. It’s not you I’m mad at.” – Furnace Dreams, by Jasmine Arch

The foxes are four in total: a vixen and her cubs. They prowl the swath of scraggly grass that connects his property to the outskirts of the forest. The cubs don’t seem interested in him. They chase, tackle, and nip each other, orange-black-white balls of yarn, tumbling. The vixen’s movements are slower, more deliberate. She doesn’t go near his cabin, only watches him as he stares back through the mesh screen – A Skulk of Ghosts, by Avra Margariti

The wind had been blowing as long as Tom could remember. Sometimes, it made him cry. The endless howling outside the plastic dome he shared with his mom and dad peeled away at his insides – Little Tom’s Reality, by Rebecca E. Treasure