I have a new story up this morning over at Crossed Genres, a very cool science fiction/fantasy magazine. It was a pleasure working with the editors there — they gave my story a fine editorial tune-up, they seek out some fantastic authors, and they seem to have a genuine passion for both the magazine they produce and the work they do in the genre. Please, go check them out, tell the authors what you think, and if you’re a writer, look at their guidelines for upcoming issues.
From my story, “Unsound”:
I’m not gonna tell Grandda that JackDio is watching us practice. Just after we started, JackDio sidled up to the paddock fence like they had every right to be there, their gazes following our sidepass over the logs, our slow slow crabwalk up to the rusty, swinging gate.
We notice them right off, of course. But we don’t balk or let them distract us. Sena just blows a little dust from her nose and I wipe my wrist across my brow, spreading sweat. If anything, them watching gets a little of our ego going. I sit a little straighter, my legs tight against Sena’s back and belly, while Sena arches the length of her beautiful neck into a prettier arc and lifts her feet just a bit higher over the big boards that are lined up across the paddock.
I’m supposed to tell Grandda whenever we see any of the boys hanging around, and I almost always do, but we’ve got our eyes on JackDio. We know we can’t have him. Grandda has explained it all, over and over again, but we figure we can look. If JackDio’s looking at us, then we should be able to look at them too.
So we look, kinda, while we go through our paces in the center of the ring. JackDio is palomino, which is rare among that family. The Sargassi family, that is. Mostly blacks and bays. Nothing special. No fighter colts. No herd alphas. Regular old bloodlines.
Except maybe JackDio.
Kiss kiss bang bang, s.
“Is not enough for a man to know how to ride; he must know how to fall.” ~Mexican Proverb