AntipodeanSF online flash magazine editor Nuke writes:
Just a short note to let you know that AntipodeanSF Issue 134 is now available for your enjoyment at our usual web address:
http://www.antisf.com.auAnd here is a list of the stories available this month:
The Morning After By Jan NapierGrugrag cracked an eyelid. His optic looked more like a rotting tomato than a body part. Its owner braved the outside world, and squinted at the rising sun.
"Looks like a giant fruit loop. How revoltin'."
...
What Lurks In Empty Spaces By Andy ArnoldRobyn hoped it was gone.
The hope, the desire, the aching need of it raced through her veins. It had to be gone.
But it might not be that easy. It lurked in empty spaces, areas where there was nothing but air.
Deli Slices By K.J. Hannah GreenbergRoy owned the only drive-thru funeral business in Maine. Before that, he trafficked in pickled calves' feet and had tried to publish flash fiction. From Ellsworth to Blue Hill Bay, Roy peddled young cow knuckles, but only sold them to Hungarian tourists laid over at Bar Harbor. Per his micro prose, all thirty-two of his works had been rejected by editors insistent on both plot and character.
Down To The Sea In Ships By Dr. Michael Schaper"Can you build me a boat?"
Eliah was a wealthy man, and it showed. Tall and tanned, he stepped out of his limousine, barely acknowledged the pony chauffeur who held the door open for him, and strode up to my office.
I looked at him cautiously. "What exactly are you looking for?"
Ophelia By S.A. HarrisMorgan Light was born in a shack to culturally decrepit parents. It was a necessary injustice that would shape the man he would become. With little education and severe economic disadvantage afflicting him, Morgan "done what good I felt would make me money", to use his vernacular. He never settled with a woman. He stole, lived on the streets, and abused substances.
The Big Sell By Shaun A. SaundersGeorge decided he needed a quick snack. Perhaps it was the relentless drone of advertising on the car radio, or the army of billboards marching along the motorway, but somewhere deep in his mind lived the thought that he deserved a bite. Now.
Eighty One Steps Down By Steve DuffyEighty one steps down — three times three by three times three — to an object that rests on a pedestal in the centre of an empty room. A room intact, the only room still whole in a castle of ruins above. Indeed, a once glorious castle now reduced and all but forgotten, betrayed by a friend in the leisure of dinner — the kind of treachery that wrought its own justice in time.
Yet the room still stands, is still guarded.
The Virgin & The Defiler By Michael BarryOne city pursues another across the Great Plain.
In Cegandar, "He-Flees," silk pagodas sway over wooden wagons, and the smooth sounds of flutes and tenors rise upon a warm western breeze.
Tree Spirit By Liz SimmondsI had a little while to wait, so I went down to the riverside, to the Ugly Trees. They had always fascinated me, ever since I came to Pluth as a raw management recruit. I'd found peace on the river bank — with slim and graceful Sister trees to the left of the path, and gnarled, brown-trunked others to the right.
Waiting For Challenger By Ashley HibbertSeven stars of Challenger smiled up at me as they walked single file along the ramp between the launching tower to their shuttle. Their simple attire made them appear like missionaries, spreading the word of humanity.
One after another, they entered the airlock, yet before disappearing from the world watching her, Christa McAuliffe, New Hampshire high school teacher, turned and waved to the camera.
