The Death’s Head Meteor
A compact 1929 space-and-meteor pulp story by Neil R. Jones.
A compact 1929 space-and-meteor pulp story by Neil R. Jones.
A Young Pete Western-pulp story by Henry Herbert Knibbs.
By Graham Bowlin Dear Blonde Camper from Bunk Ten, First of all, I’d like to apologize for startling you. When I kicked open the door of your bunkhouse and stormed in, wildly hacking the place up (how foolish I must have looked to you then!), I thought that your friend, that nubile redhead, had been…
Rose shuddered as she peeped outside her window; the dull, orange light of the sun slowly giving way to the artificial luminescence of the halogen street lamps. She paced from side to side, being careful not to wake her six-month old son that lay snug in her arms. He had fallen asleep only a…
Judah couldn’t help but think that the girl across the table from him was exquisite. He ran through a quick mental lineup and concluded that she was by far the most immaculate person he had ever dated. Still, he couldn’t think of her name. He wasn’t even sure how they had gotten to dinner….
“……….it will be increasingly impossible to distinguish between humans and robots because of our machine-like behavior as much as robots’ human-like features. And could this eventually become the norm, with humans spending their entire lives acting like machines?” ….Brett Frischmann Atticus stood under an overhang of the old Empire State Building in a driving…
Kima reached her fingers around to the back of her neck, brushing away her midnight curls. She touched the first prong in her spine. She rubbed her finger down the smooth metal square, just smaller than her fingertip. She applied her middle finger to the second prong, then she hesitated, hovering her pinkie above…
Merc dove to the ground as the projectile sliced through the surrounding mist. Street grit smashed against his cheek. The sweet smell of unburned hydrocarbons wafted to his nose from the stagnant pools of collected rainwater. Twisting himself, he searched for the drone signature. Even with high-res filters at max, there was nothing in the…
She was the kind of cute that became really, really hot when you were around it for long enough. For me it took like…a half hour or so. Not sure how long it took everyone else. Hat was skeptical. So was I, but I mean…that didn’t mean I didn’t want her on the team or…
The Irish born Father Donahey has retired from many years of service as a Catholic priest in South American countries to Winterset, Iowa. It’s not to be the life of books and long rural walks that he expects. The community and the surrounding area are awash with supernatural creatures. Some are friendly, some not, but…