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“God” is not the word I’d use. But it is the only one that suffices. There are all kinds of gods: the old and the new; the useful, the useless; the capricious and the dependable; the wrathful and the meek. They all had one thing in common—whether they were created at the dawn of time when hunter-gatherers huddled in caves and cowered at the crac...
Ánar’s bootheels echoed on the iron floor. What a groundbreaking honor this ceremony was for a landless tenant like him—joining old house Veivilkas, of the wolf. Such an honor that it made him leaden to think of, made him long for sleep. At the conclusion of the ceremony, he would no longer be merely Ánar from the undercity, scarab-kin, but Ánar...
If you drive far enough into the farmland around Kindersley, Saskatchewan, there’s only one channel on the radio. It’s a country music channel, of course. When I started to work […]
By Abhijeet Sathe in Issue #465 of Beneath Ceaseless Skies Online Magazine The foals don’t recall the age of enthrallment because we never taught them of that dark eon when the kin marched on the cities of man. I do. I was in that horde scouring the land, mindless tools of the stillborn god. We raged and reaved until one crisp winter morning whe...