The More Things Change the More Monsters Blame Girls for Not Smiling

Wow… so… I’m reading Frankenstein, and the monster kills a young boy out of anger and then blames the first pretty girl he sees and frames her for it. See, it’s clearly her fault he committed murder, because pretty girls don’t smile at him.

I’m not even exaggerating.

Thirty Honey Feasts To Go

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Theme of Absence, July 2018

“My great-great-great-grandmother was the last queen who had the honor of awakening you,” the ship’s computer answered. It was a hybrid brain — part computer, part hive — with the reigning bee queen at its heart.

Marga held her broad paw up to the star-studded window, lining it up so a single spark of light tipped each of her blunted claws.  Her own constellation.  She wondered if any of those stars had habitable worlds circling them.  She knew none of them was New Sholara.  Not from this window.  Not from this side of the ship.

A purple-and-amber-striped worker bee buzzed down and landed on the thick brown fur of Marga’s shoulder, reminding her that life support was limited.  She left the window behind and moved from one cryonics pod to the next, starting their rejuv cycles.  Bees followed her, buzzing in the air. Continue reading “Thirty Honey Feasts To Go”