His latest novel, Evergreen, takes readers to alien world full of ancient secrets and a strange intelligence, populated with characters motivated by revenge, redemption, and obsession, on a quest to find the City of God.

• Read Bruce’s story “Reckoning.”

• Find out more about Bruce and his works on his website.

Excerpt:

Two down, sacks loaded, three and one—I knew I had to throw a strike. I figured I could throw one by him. Nothing fancy . . . go with the heat . . . muscle-up and blow it by him.

Ruiz, my catcher, he gives me the sign for a yakker. I’m thinking he’s crazy. No way I’m risking a breaking ball three and one. Anyway, I knew I could throw it by this guy. He was nothing. He was meat on a stick. So I shook off the sign.

He puts down three fingers for the change. I’m thinking screw him, I can blow this guy away. I shake him off again.

Finally he gives me the number-one, my bread and butter. I figure I’ll throw it by him, then three and two and he’s mine.

I windup, put a little extra juice on it, and let fly . . . .

Next thing I know I’m listening to the P.A. guy.

“It’s a graaand slaaam, folks. Rusty Storr’s 13th homer of the season.”

He slammed me. I couldn’t believe it. How’d he catch up with that pitch?

I knew when I saw Maggio pop his ugly head out of the dugout and start my way I was screwed. I was in no mood to listen to his crap, but I knew that wasn’t gonna stop him.

“Reckoning” by Bruce Golden first appeared in Palace of Reason, January, 2002.

• Say hi to Kate on Facebook.
• Friend “The Dreaming Comics and Games” on Facebook.
• Visit the Hallows Eve Designs website and learn more about the dark steampunk roleplaying game Unhallowed Metropolis.

• Read his short story “Left Behind.”

Excerpt:

Ben swung back and forth across the sand, his shoes gliding across the surface as he scrunched his eyes and stared at the top of the sun disappearing behind the cafeteria. If he kept looking at the sun, maybe he’d go blind like his mom said he would. Then he wouldn’t have to open the envelope and look inside. If he was blind, he wouldn’t have to see his report card, find out if he’d been left behind once again.

There wasn’t anything for Ben to see out there anyhow. If he went blind, he wouldn’t miss a thing. Except for the all the trash flitting about, the playground was empty. Everyone was gone, off to their parties, glad eighth grade was over.

As the swing began to slow, Ben concentrated on the sun, staring as hard as he could, ignoring the orange and green Silly String sprayed across the buildings. He tried to make himself blind, trying not to remember the yells of celebration at the final bell, the taunting calls telling him to say hi to Miss Dykstra next year when he was back in her English class. He opened his eyes as wide as possible and watched the sun sink, pretending he didn’t mind not being invited to the pizza parlor and Guitar Hero parties. He kept looking at the sun, becoming happy when everything became dark then finally realizing it was because the sun had set.

Ben pushed off the sand and began swinging again, not caring he’d never been invited to the parties. Not the first time. Not last year. Not this day.

• Read Matt’s flash fiction story “The Tunnel.”
• Visit Matt’s writing blog.

Excerpt:

Gregor slipped through the gap in the fence and into the open space of the park. He dashed forward and dive-rolled behind a steel climbing frame, then sprang up into a crouch. Nobody in sight.

He sized up the distance to the tunnel. The late afternoon sun had little warmth in it as it filtered down through the haze of concrete dust. Pulse cannons had been firing shells over the river for days now and Gregor’s house, the whole neighbourhood, was coated in a fine grey mist. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and broke cover.

He ignored the distant thudding of mortars as he reached the tunnel, skidded into its dark concrete interior. It was an old bit of pipe from an early colony construction site, three feet in diameter and ten feet long. It had been dropped into a trench of cement so that it was fixed in place in the middle of the playground. It had proved as popular as the colourful steel climbing frame or the swings.

In the shadowy interior of the pipe Gregor leaned back against the curved surface, his knees by his head, and looked at the graffiti. The inside of the pipe was covered with swear words and rude jokes, stick figure colony soldiers fighting giant spiders, faded hearts filled with initials. There was more ink than blank concrete. He traced the outline of a heart with one finger. Did the initials inside belong to someone Gregor knew? Someone from his school?

His short fiction has appeared in a variety of print and online publications, including Allegory, Bards & Sages Quarterly, Kaleidotrope, Every Day Fiction, and Mindflights, and his first novel, The Muse, debuted in November 2009.

• Read Fred’s flash fiction story “The Time-Share.”
• Look for Fred online at http://frederation.wordpress.com.

Excerpt:

They time-shared me to Chuckie Lee Wilson after he died. If you take a life, you give your life. That’s the law now. No excuses, no shades of gray.

Chuckie Lee car-jacked me at a dark intersection downtown. When he broke through my window, I stepped on the gas and dragged him for three blocks. The prosecutors told me I was lucky the upload crew got to him in time, or I would have spent the rest of my life in a cage.

“He was going to kill me,” I said.

“Nobody knows what he planned to do,” they said. “Chuckie Lee Wilson is dead, and you killed him.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him. He had a gun, and I panicked. His sleeve caught on the door.”

“You could have stopped the car. Instead, you took his life. Now you’re going to give it back.”

So, Chuckie Lee gets half my life in exchange for the life I took from him.

Her fantasy yarn, THE PHOENIX CROSSROADS, and her sci fi short, SOULLESS, were both published by Silverthought in 2009.

• Read her flash fiction story “Grand-Monster.”
• Visit her blog.