Dogs of the Snow Country
Before my mother tattooed my face and made me odder than I already was, I must have had another name, but I don’t recall it. I lived in the kitchen then, with Cook and the other children who toddled there, some belonging to the house servants, some girls like me, who belonged to no one in particular. A lady came out — though she was no lady, only a concubine — she was my mother. A concubine and herbalist, she was different than the others, her skin dark like mine, instead of the pale moon faces of the nobles, her hair a wild thatch of black... Read More...
The Oldest Girl
Stationed behind a substantial desk, Yles Chavarixo’s cloud of opiate smoke sucked the light from the room. When Katurilia was young, she’d found the woman too small for the towering bookshelves and high-backed armchairs in the office. With time, though, Katurilia realized these objects empowered the woman, lent her a sense of importance, of strength. It hadn’t taken long for Katurilia to loathe this room... Read More...
Of all the drugs to make a comeback in Chi-Town, Cloud 99 was the most unlikely. Since the 70s, the national LSD trade had stayed centered in northern California. Its production followed a single technique and yielded a subdued potency, a tiny fraction of what the flower children had sampled. After all, it didn’t pay to kill the clientele... Read More...
[ Previous Issue | Next Issue | More Stories ]