If you are reading this, Dariael murdered me.
Though I am not your favorite daughter, you also know I'm not the type of sixteen-year-old to feign suicide for sympathy. For the moment, I ask only that you believe in my abilities as a threadkeeper. If my sorcery works, you can save me in your universe. If you're too busy to follow my instructions, you'll never see me again.
-Michael Greenhut, "Watermark" (July in Fantasy Magazine)
Lotus tea had a sweet smell with just the barest hint of mud in the afterglow. It was an acquired taste, neither as tea-like as oolong nor as flowery as chrysanthemum. The bittersweet flavour could’ve been the earth itself, from the roots steeped in the death that remained here. Vietnamese soil was fertile, blackened and rich with blood and bone. But the River Saigon was not so lucky. Its skin brown waters were sewer line and trade route, a spittoon for the city it plied.
-A.M. Muffaz, "A Foreigner's View of the River" (July in Fantasy Magazine)
She gazed at Shawna with sapphire eyes and leaned back on her elbows, flashed a shameless grin, and lifted an emerald fish tail up from the water. Dazzling scales caught the starlight, dripped water as she showed off.
Shawna tried to stammer a greeting, an apology for invading her space, anything, but she was speechless.
“Beautiful night, isn't it?” casual as cocktails, as the mermaid lowered her tail back into the water.
Lilah Wild, "Sweetwater" (July in Fantasy Magazine)
In the hills of San Diego, spiderholes and cardboard houses like the set of an apocalypse movie let men who didn’t belong there – never women, only men - hide and sleep. Fifty yards away, citizens lived in giant homes and shopped in giant stores and drove giant cars along giant roads. The citizens might as well be giants because they never saw the men hidden between the gaps in the hills with shrines to the Virgin and stories about older gods told in thick Mixtecan by men whose ancestors devoured conquistadors in rituals no Jesuit Inquisitor could completely burn away.
J.M. McDermott, "Gods of the Spiderhole" (August in Fantasy Magazine)
You are cordially invited to Sonia and Dale’s 3rd Annual Magic Xtravaganza! Come see The Disappearing Wheelchair, Chicken or the Egg, and a spectacular new trick created by Sonia Larch herself. Free admission, one day only, Saturday the 22nd at 2:00 pm.
Christie Skipper Ritchotte, "Penguin and Wren" (August in Fantasy Magazine)
Most of the gang was already here, crowded around a skinny white girl lounging barefoot in an oversized beanbag chair. Jaybird scowled as she recognized her. "You dragged my ass down here for this slut?"
Terrence slid off the coach. "Peace, girl," he said. "Robin here just wants--"
"I want to be a full LT," said Robin, wiggling ruby-polished toes. "I want to be part of your family."
Jim Hines, "Original Gangster" (August in Fantasy Magazine)
See what I mean?