Swords and Sorcery Magazine
  • Home
  • I Will Give...
  • Greys and...
  • River Tokoloshe
  • Submissions
  • Archive

"Journeys: a Ghost Story" by Dorothy Winsor

3/6/2018

7 Comments

 

From the hilltop, my father focuses the spyglass on the fur clad man leading thirty mounted soldiers toward the town gates. When a stork-legged sentry steps forward to hail them and presumably ask their business, one of the men casually kicks the sentry in the head. The wind flattens the banner he carries. I recognize the colors as Riverton's, which I'd last seen charging toward me on a battlefield.
 
"Well, well," Da murmurs.
 
"No," I groan. "We have to go home."
 
As he lowers the glass, he staggers and closes his eyes.
 
I spring to his side, and there, on the ground, I see what I expect, the paw print of Silvit, the impossibly big wildcat who embodies the Forest. In the last few weeks, I've seen those prints more and more often. I know what they mean.
 
"You see that, Da? If we don't go home, you know what will happen. You. Will. Die. Is that what you want?"
 
As usual, he ignores me. I shift uneasily. Over the months we'd been out of the Forest, I'd come to fear that was what he wanted, mostly because he was too stoning stubborn to accept what happened and move on with life. "Don't do this, Da," I whisper, rubbing at the spot under my ribs where I'd been wounded. "The war is over. The Forest won. No one is cutting trees. Going after Riverton men now will only make trouble."
 
Da shoves the spyglass into the loop on his pack and, for a moment, I think he's going to be sensible, but no, of course not.  He hides his bow and pack behind a rock and starts toward the town, trailing me along behind him. Oh well. I should be used to it by now.
 
It's a market day, and we stroll among the booths, stopping here and there for Da to snoop. I've never seen him in spy mode before, though I used to beg him to take me along when he went on missions for the Forest's chieftain. I still hear echoes of my kid voice in my head: "Let me go with you, Da. Please!"
 
At a stand selling bread, a kitchen maid's voice is sharp with excitement. "I need every loaf you have. Lord Abun is holding a feast for that man from Riverton, although from what I can see, Abun's none too pleased about his arrival." The maid snaps her fingers at the boy behind her, and he hands a basket to the stall's proprietress.
 
To my surprise, Da's eyes are on the boy, not the maid. I drift over to take a look at the goods on the table the boy is studying, which turn out to be whistles carved like animals. Da carved me a whistle shaped like a wildcat when I was about this boy's age. Da's face crinkles with unmistakable pain.
 
"What's the Riverton man here for then?" The bread seller's question draws Da's attention, and he casually presses close to the maid with his back to her so it looks like he's paying no attention.
 
"I couldn't say," the maid says, then lowers her voice and delivers a dungcart load of gossip. "Our steward's from Riverton too, and he says this visitor is the oldest son of the lord there. He says Riverton's lord holds it against Abun that he wouldn't join in the Timber War. He says we'll learn soon enough what a real lord is like." The two women exchange ominous looks.
 
I slide up close to Da. "We should go," I whisper. "When people learn what a 'real' lord is like, the lesson is always painful, and you don't have the time."
 
Slapping irritably at his ear, he turns back toward the gate, but his gaze catches on the boy.
 
"I reckon the steward knows this young lord," the kitchen maid is saying, "because I saw them with their heads together. Now he's parading around like he's about to be made a lord himself." The scorn in the maid's voice says exactly what she thinks of the steward.
 
"Will the feast be good, mistress?" asks a cheery voice behind me. We all turn to see a man carrying a harp on his back and wearing the short coat and helmetlike leather cap of a minstrel.
 
"I reckon it will," the maid answers, her eyes traveling up and down him. She flutters her eyelashes. "Will you be there?"
 
"I will indeed. Your Lord Abun wants music at this feast." The minstrel bows, and both women watch as he walks away.
 
"Nice legs," the maid says. The women look at one another and giggle. The boy rolls his eyes in a sentiment I endorse. Until this last year, I had no idea women talked that way because they never did it in front of me.
 
"A minstrel," Da muses.
 
I can see it coming, and sure enough, Da starts after the minstrel with the nice legs, who turns out to be far, far too trusting.
 



 
As we present ourselves at the kitchen door, Da tugs at the bottom of the minstrel coat he's now wearing. He's taller than the minstrel, and it looks like he feels distinctly airy below the waist. The cap, on the other hand, is a bit too big, and it's slid over his forehead to sit just above his eyebrows. It's a good thing he can't see my face because he looks ridiculous. But he's not a man to let something like that stop him. He raises his fist and raps sharply.
 
The door opens to reveal a soldier in the livery of the young lord from Riverton. My attention sharpens. If Abun's guards have already been replaced by these foreigners, then events are galloping along.
 
"Lord Abun sent for a minstrel," Da announces.
 
The guard gestures along the hallway to a door at the end. "The steward's waiting for you."
 
The boy from the market comes out of a doorway, holding a fat chicken leg wrapped in a napkin. A bruise is blooming on his right cheek, and Da stiffens. The boy offers the chicken to the guard who takes it, then knocks the boy aside to let us in. The boy scrambles up and scurries back through the doorway.
 
Da bares his teeth as he brushes past the guard, making the man starts backward. I follow him into a small chamber at the back of Lord Abun's Hall. A short man with a permanent looking sneer taps his foot next to a wide doorway. The steward, I surmise. He looks relieved to see Da. "You're the minstrel? I was afraid you weren't coming."
 
Da bows. "I was a last minute choice, sir." When he straightens, he tugs at his coat again, and I snigger. He glances back as if he hears me, but says nothing.
 
Footsteps sound, and two opulently dressed men come through the wide doorway. I recognize the young lord from Riverton, whom we'd seen arriving, and conclude the other man must be the town's Lord Abun. The Riverton lord looks smug, but Abun's face is red and he's breathing hard. Although they're no more than an arm's length away, both lords ignore Da, the steward, and me as if we are all invisible.
 
"I tell you, Thade," Abun says, "you may be able to force me to say I'm stepping aside in your favor, but my people will never accept you. I'll be back in control by next week."
 
I glance at the Riverton lord, whose name is apparently Thade. He looks amused rather than frightened by Abun's declaration. Thade doesn't expect Abun to be alive next week, I think. He probably doesn't expect Abun to be alive six hours after he announces he's ceding rule to Thade.
 
"We'll see how things are next week when next week comes." Thade strides toward the entrance into the Hall, shoving Da, who has stumbled into his way.
 
Abun glares after Thade, opening and closing his fists. "Arrogant, pus-filled pimple on a pig's privates," he fumes under his breath. Evidently comforted by giving vent to his feelings, he draws a deep breath and follows his "guest" into the Hall, trying to dodge around Da but becoming tangled with him despite his efforts.
 
"Beg pardon, lord," Da says.
 
Abun's attention is focused so strongly on Thade that he seems to barely notice the encounter. I'm alarmed though. There's a fresh scratch on the side of Da's neck.
 
"Go in," the steward orders Da. "Play until they tell you to stop. You can eat in the kitchen afterwards."
 
"Thank you, sir." As Da takes his harp from his back, he bumps the steward.
 
I frown. That one looked deliberate. I think about that for a moment before I creep into the Hall and lean against the wall to watch. My wound throbs, and I shift trying to ease the pain.
 
Tables filled with Abun's courtiers and household run down either side of the Hall, while the two lords sit at a head table. The Hall is quieter than is usual at feasts. Abun's people murmur uneasily to one another, watching him and Thade from under lowered lids.
 
Careful, Da, I silently urge. The serving girls are the only women. Abun's men are planning for trouble and want their wives and daughters out of the way.
 
But Da's face tells me he's planning for trouble too. I grimace, but then I notice he's more focused and awake than I've seen him in a while, the way he gets when he's doing something that matters to him. Huh. Maybe this sidetrip is good for him.
 
He steps into the center of the room, all eyes turning his way. He bows to the head table, gives a final tug to his short coat, and lifts the minstrel's harp into his arms. From the corner of my eye, I glimpse the bruised kitchen boy edging into the room to listen. Da looks straight at him. For a moment, Da stills. Then he passes his hand gently over the strings, sending a ripple of sweet sound running through the room.
 
The song he's picked freezes me where I stand. It's nothing special, just a tale of spring in the Forest, and new, green life, of hope and beauty and longing. The thing is, he played it the evening before we left for the Battle of Long Hill. That night, I woke to the sound of my parents arguing.
 
"I beg you to leave him behind," my mother said. "Sixteen is too young."
 
In a flash, I was out from under my covers and in their doorway, startling them both so they sat up in bed. "The Forest is under attack. Grasslanders are hacking it to bits. I have to go. Da, please let me go with you."
 
A long moment passed. Then Da laid his hand over my mother's. "He's right. It would be wrong to keep him from making his own choice about this."
 
So we went. I remember the battle's start and running forward in the first mad charge. And then…I never can remember what happened then. The next thing I knew, Da was leaving the Forest, holding tight to me, the way I'd held onto him as a kid after a nightmare. But Forest blood won't let a person be gone forever. Grasslanders think they own land, but we know we are part of the land that gave us birth, part of the whole made up of the trees, the animals, the very soil. Silvit comes after you if you leave. You return or you die. Da knows that. Why can't he go home?
 
Now the grief and guilt and wishful note in Da's voice hold me spellbound, and I'm not the only one who's moved because when it's done, a man on my left says, "Ahh," and wipes his eyes. Everyone breaks into applause.
 
"Sing us another," Abun calls from the head table. "A happier one this time."
 
Da sings a second song and then a third. I see the shadows flickering over his face, but he's steady on his feet. When Abun finally lets him go, the kitchen boy is lingering near the service table outside the Hall. The boy's gaze catches on me, the way children's gazes sometimes do. He squints but then focuses on Da.
 
"Good day, lad," Da says.
 
The boy nods cautiously, glancing at Da's hands and staying out of reach.
 
"I see none of your Lord Abun's guards," Da says. "Where are they?"
 
The boy scowls. "That Thade's soldiers surprised them. We thought they were guests, or they never would've taken our men so. And then they locked them up."
 
"Abun has dungeons?" Da asks.
 
"No. They're in the old buttery out behind the Hall. I can hear them pounding on the door, but would you believe it, the steward took the key. I think he's in league with Thade. They come from the same place, you know."
 
Da rubs his jaw and contemplates the kid. I can almost hear his thoughts. Would it be wrong to let this boy be part of whatever he's planning? I think of the guilt I heard in Da's voice in the Hall and understand something I should have understood months ago. I slip up next to Da and whisper in his ear. "I wasn't a child, Da, and you couldn't keep me safe forever. I'm at peace with my decision. Why can't you be?"
 
When Da speaks, his voice is raspy. "Lad, would you like to help your Lord Abun turn the tables on Thade and his men?"
 
The boy's eyebrows shoot up. "How?"
 
"Where are Thade's guards?"
 
"At all the doors and outside the front of the Hall. They made everyone who went inside leave their weapons."
 
"Then the first thing we need to do is rid ourselves of Thade's guards." Da fishes in the pocket of the minstrel's coat and pulls out four purses that do not belong to him.
 
I blink, and then remember his stumbles into Abun, Thade, the steward, and the door guard, and have to laugh. Oh, Da. You think I don't see what you did? What a bad example you are.
 
Da pours coins into the boy's hands. "Thade's men need to try some Southland wine," he says. "In fact, they need to drink as much of it as you can buy."
 
The boy's eyes grow huge. "I can buy a skin for each of them with that." With a gleeful snort, he closes his hands around the coins and races down the hall, past the door guard, and out into the yard.
 
Da watches him go, then enters the kitchen with me right behind him.
 
"Sit you down, good minstrel," the cook says, turning from the fire. "Get him meat and drink," she orders a maid, whom I recognize as the one we'd seen buying bread.
 
It's a good thing I'm never hungry any more. Instead, I have this pain in my side. I need to go home. A warm body presses against my legs, and I stroke a furry head, comforting us both.
 
The girl frowns at Da. "You're not the minstrel I saw in the market." The cook turns to look.
 
"He decided not to come and sent me instead," Da says.
 
I grin at the brazen lie. "Oh, Da, what would Ma say?" In a flash of insight, my grin fades because as surely as if he'd replied, I know this is the question Da has asked himself for months. What will my mother say to him if he goes home? And this brave, fierce man I love is afraid because he doesn't know the answer.
 
The maid edges nearer to the cook and whispers, but I'm close enough to hear. "This one has a nice bottom. Had you noticed? That coat shows it off just lovely."
 
I blink. Who knew? Da tugs the coat a little lower.
 
The maid fetches Da a plate of lamb. Just as he's finishing, the steward comes in. "The feast is going well, if I do say so myself." He makes it sound as if the quality of the feast is entirely his doing.
 
The cook and the maid exchange a sour glance.
 
"I, for one, will be glad to have Thade running things," the steward goes on. "Abun has no ambition, but this town will be powerful once Thade carries out his plans."
 
The kitchen boy runs into the room, and the steward spins to grab his arm. "Where have you been?" He brings the back of his hand hard across the boy's face, catching him atop his existing bruise.
 
"Leave him alone!" the cook cries.
 
The steward scowls at her. "He needs discipline. You all do."
 
Da has half risen, but slowly lowers himself to the bench. I've seen the look on his face before. If I were the steward, I'd be hiding behind one of Thade's men--the biggest one.
 
The boy dabs at the blood welling from the corner of his mouth, but says nothing, only looking past the steward at Da and giving a tiny nod. Da winks at him, and the boy smiles. To my surprise, Da smiles back. He looks happy. Something lightens inside my chest.
 
A guffaw comes from the hallway, and then the sound of the guard bellowing a song about a maiden and a goat. Frowning, the steward releases the boy's arm and strides out into the hallway.
 
Da rises, slings his harp on his back, and starts out of the kitchen. By the boy's side, he stops. "Good man." He pats the boy's thin shoulder. "Take care now, son. I'm counting on you to live a long and happy life." The boy ducks his head and grins. Da and I go out into the back hallway.
 
"How could you be so irresponsible?" the steward is demanding of the guard, whose flushed-face grin never changes. "I intend to report you to Thade as soon as he's out of the Hall."
 
He reaches for the wine skin in the guard's hand, but the guard pushes him and he stumbles against Da, who is quick but not too quick for me to see him plant Thade's, Abun's, and the guard's empty purses on the steward.
 
All I could do was laugh. If this was what he did on his spy trips, no wonder he wouldn't take me.
 
Da trots out to the buttery, pulls the dagger from his boot, works it into the lock, and has the door open before the men inside have time to ask what's happening. He steps back as a burly man with an air of authority comes barreling out.
 
"You and your men are needed," Da says. "Thade's guards are drunk, and he's in the Hall by himself, ripe for the picking. Now's your moment. Seize it and give Abun his town back."
 
Other soldiers crowd up behind the big man. "Do you want us to hold him, sergeant?" one asks, frowning at Da.
 
The sergeant regards Da with narrow eyes. "Not yet." He looks back at his men. "We'll go to the armory and get what weapons we can. Be careful. Thade's guards may be drunk, but they're still there."
 
"You'll want to arrest the steward too," Da calls after him. "He's been spying for Thade, and besides that, I think he's been thieving. You should search him at once."
 
The sergeant waves over his shoulder and runs off with his men.
 
The minstrel is gone from the spot behind a public privy where Da tied and gagged him, but Da folds his coat neatly on a nearby rock wall and sets the harp and cap on top of it. He fishes his tunic out of the bushes, pulls it on, and smoothes it down long with a satisfied sigh.
 
Out of the town, we climb the hill where Da retrieves his weapons and pack. Then he stands, looking toward the Forest, looking away.
 
"Da," I say.
 
Frowning, he turns toward me, eyes screwed up against the sun. I wonder what he sees or hears.
 
"I've been worried about you, you know--keeping an eye on you, maybe clinging to you like you've been clinging to me. But my dying is done, and Ma will be looking for you. There are things I didn't have time to learn, but I know for sure you're a man worth loving, and she loves you. Besides I hear you have a nice bottom."
 
He blinks and rubs his eyes. I step close enough to brush a ghost’s kiss on his stubbly cheek, making him jump.
 
"Let me go, Da. It’s just for a while."
 
Slowly, he starts toward home. A few feet to his left, the grass ripples and parts as if a large animal pads through it. After a dozen yards, he begins to sing. I know that song. It's one of Ma's favorites. I watch until I can't see him any more, and as I watch, the air begins to vibrate around me, as if it is purring. I feel myself slipping away, the pain in my side fading, a smell like newly uncurled leaves rising to meet me.



©January 2018, Dorothy Winsor

Dorothy Winsor writes middle grade and young adult fantasy novels, including Deep as a Tomb (2016) and a forthcoming novel from Inspired Quill Press, due in Septemeber.

7 Comments
cheap assignment writing service uk link
7/17/2018 09:18:48 am

Nice work sharing this here. I believe that things are quite amazing when you read such stuff. Nice work sharing this here for people looking for a good read

Reply
Dissertation writing service link
7/27/2020 12:30:11 am

I have completely read this story but it is very horrible and my children are afraid of reading it. I also want to tell you about my occupation .I am a writer and I am serving the students in writing their dissertation and assignments.

Reply
NK SHARMA link
5/3/2021 03:25:05 am

Hi, are you looking for Information Technology Assignment Help experts exactly know what it takes to get good grades in IT Assignments which you get from your university.
SEEKING FOR Information Technology Assignment HELP UK? Need Online Technology Assignment Help? Go to Assignment Help provides ozpaperhelp.com Online Assignment Help UK by PhD experts. Also get online All Homework Assignment Help in the UK. Get a new offer 60% off on all assignments, We are a world-leading company in Assignment writing services and our goal is 100% customer satisfaction because I always try to provide the best service. Information Technology Assignment Help experts are providing free revision and always deliver the work before the end of deadline. We hope that you will be a guest for assignment work, now our company is giving you a new offer of 60% off on all writing services.

Reply
https://eazyresearch.com/services/coursework-help link
1/13/2022 12:25:29 am

I have finished reading this novel, however it is really disturbing, and my daughters are terrified to read it. I'd also want to inform you about my job. I am a writer who assists students with their dissertations and projects.

Reply
painting services link
1/17/2022 02:39:03 am

Provides Professional Handyman Services Dubai for Drilling & Hanging, Electric Short Circuit Repair & AC Repair.

Reply
Vlone Shirts link
1/17/2022 02:40:04 am

The Vlone Outfit carries a strong message behind it. It refers to “You live alone, you die alone”. It reflects your lifestyle. The way to express your feelings, thoughts, and ideas in terms of dressing.

Reply
custom application development services link
8/29/2022 11:49:01 am

This is an excellent ghost story that will keep you entertained from beginning to end. The author has done a great job of creating a suspenseful and creepy atmosphere that will keep you on the edge of your seat. I would highly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys a good ghost story.

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    Editor

    Curtis Ellett is a  fantasy writer who also contributes to the genre in other ways. He has lived on three continents, studied archaeology, and worked as a newspaper ad designer and a bookseller. He now works as an unpaid editor and game master. Find him on Twitter @CurtisEllett.

    Archives

    March 2024
    February 2024
    January 2024
    December 2023
    November 2023
    October 2023
    September 2023
    August 2023
    July 2023
    June 2023
    May 2023
    April 2023
    March 2023
    February 2023
    January 2023
    December 2022
    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    August 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    April 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    November 2012
    October 2012
    September 2012
    August 2012
    July 2012
    June 2012
    April 2012
    March 2012
    February 2012

    Categories

    All
    Aaron Onyon
    A. J. Carter
    Alcuin Fromm
    Alexander Leger-Small
    Alexandra Seidel
    Alex B.
    Alex Beecher
    Alex Evans
    Alexis Lantgen
    Alex Souza
    Alison McBain
    Alysha MacDonald
    Andrew Jensen
    Andrew Knighton
    Andrew Moore
    Andrew Muff
    Anna Cates
    Anna Sykora
    Anthony Perconti
    B. C. Nance
    Belle DiMonté
    Benjamin Darnell
    Bill West
    Billy Wong
    Bonnie Elizabeth
    Brandon Ketchum
    Brian Dyke
    Brynn Macnab
    Cameron Huntley
    Cameron Johnston
    Cameron Kirk
    Carmine A. Tedeschi
    Caw Miller
    Cesar Alcazar
    Chad A. B. Wilson
    Charlene Brusso
    Christopher G. Hall
    Christopher Mowder
    Christopher Rowe
    Connor Gormley
    Connor Perry
    Cora Buhlert
    Curtis A. Deeter
    Dale T. Phillips
    Damien Allmark
    Dan Crawford
    Dan DeFazio
    Daniel Amatiello
    Daniel Bavister
    Daniel Hand
    Daniel Morley
    Daniel Roy
    Dan Rice
    David A. Riley
    David Bowles
    Davide Mana
    David Ferguson
    David J. West
    David Samuels
    David Starobin
    David Turnbull
    David Waid
    Dc Harrell
    Debra Young
    Diana Parparita
    D. J. Tyrer
    D. K. Latta
    Donald Jacob Uitvlugt
    Dorothy Winsor
    Ed Ahern
    Editorial
    Edward Ahern
    Edward H. Parks
    E. G. Condé
    Em Harriett
    Essay
    Ethan Cade Varnado
    Fernando Medici
    Frank Marinicchio
    Frank R. Sjodin
    Fraser Sherman
    Freya Pickard
    Gabrielle Bleu
    Garnett Elliott
    Garrett Boatman
    Gary Every
    Geoffrey Hart
    George Jacobs
    George S. Walker
    Gerry Huntman
    Gustavo Bondoni
    G. W. Thomas
    Harold R. Thompson
    Harry Piper
    Issue 1
    Issue 10
    Issue 100
    Issue 101
    Issue 102
    Issue 103
    Issue 104
    Issue 105
    Issue 106
    Issue 107
    Issue 108
    Issue 109
    Issue 11
    Issue 110
    Issue 111
    Issue 112
    Issue 113
    Issue 114
    Issue 115
    Issue 116
    Issue 117
    Issue 118
    Issue 119
    Issue 12
    Issue 120
    Issue 121
    Issue 122
    Issue 123
    Issue 124
    Issue 125
    Issue 126
    Issue 127
    Issue 128
    Issue 129
    Issue 13
    Issue 130
    Issue 131
    Issue 132
    Issue 133
    Issue 134
    Issue 135
    Issue 136
    Issue 137
    Issue 138
    Issue 139
    Issue 14
    Issue 140
    Issue 141
    Issue 142
    Issue 143
    Issue 144
    Issue 145
    Issue 15
    Issue 16
    Issue 17
    Issue 18
    Issue 19
    Issue 2
    Issue 20
    Issue 21
    Issue 22
    Issue 23
    Issue 24
    Issue 25
    Issue 26
    Issue 27
    Issue 28
    Issue 29
    Issue 3
    Issue 30
    Issue 31
    Issue 32
    Issue 33
    Issue 34
    Issue 35
    Issue 36
    Issue 37
    Issue 38
    Issue 39
    Issue 4
    Issue 40
    Issue 41
    Issue 42
    Issue 43
    Issue 44
    Issue 45
    Issue 46
    Issue 47
    Issue 48
    Issue 49
    Issue 5
    Issue 50
    Issue 51
    Issue 52
    Issue 53
    Issue 54
    Issue 55
    Issue 56
    Issue 57
    Issue 58
    Issue 59
    Issue 6
    Issue 60
    Issue 61
    Issue 62
    Issue 63
    Issue 64
    Issue 65
    Issue 66
    Issue 67
    Issue 68
    Issue 69
    Issue 7
    Issue 70
    Issue 71
    Issue 72
    Issue 73
    Issue 74
    Issue 75
    Issue 76
    Issue 77
    Issue 78
    Issue 79
    Issue 8
    Issue 80
    Issue 81
    Issue 82
    Issue 83
    Issue 84
    Issue 85
    Issue 86
    Issue87
    Issue 87
    Issue 88
    Issue 89
    Issue 9
    Issue 90
    Issue 91
    Issue 92
    Issue 93
    Issue 94
    Issue 95
    Issue 96
    Issue 97
    Issue 98
    Issue 99
    Ivan Ewert
    Jackson Hoerth
    James Edward O'Brien
    James Lecky
    James Van Pelt
    Jamie Lackey
    Janie Brunson
    J.A. Prentice
    Jarod K. Anderson
    Jarrod K. Wade
    Jason A. Holt
    Jason Gallagher
    Jason L. Corner
    Jason Ray Carney
    Jay Requard
    J.B. Toner
    Jeffery Scott Sims
    Jeffrey A. Sergent
    Jennifer Crow
    Jeremy Harper
    J.J. Adamson
    J. M. Cyrus
    J.N. Cameron
    Joanna Michal Hoyt
    Joette M. Rozanski
    John C. Adams
    John Grover
    Jonathan Hepburn
    Jonathan Olfert
    Josh Howard
    Joshua Alexander
    Joshua Hiles
    Joshua Steely
    Joshua Turner
    J. S. Alexander
    J. Tynan Burke
    J. VanZile
    Karen Blaha
    Katharina Gerlach
    K.C. Ball
    Keith Peck
    Ken Lizzi
    Keshia Swaim
    Kevin Cockle
    Kristen Brand
    Kyle Bakke
    Laurence Raphael Brothers
    Lawrence Buentello
    Leigh Kimmel
    Lindsey Duncan
    L. M. Myles
    Lorenzo D. Lopez
    Louis Palmerino
    Lynn Rushlau
    Malcolm Schmitz
    Mario Caric
    Mark Mellon
    Mark Mills
    Mary Alexandra Agner
    Matthew C. Lucas
    Matthew Cropley
    Matthew Ilseman
    Matthew Owen Jones
    Matthew Tolbert
    Matthew X. Gomez
    Melanie Bell
    Melanie Henry
    Melanie Smith
    Melion Traverse
    Michael Meyerhofer
    Michael Mitchell Jr
    Mike Adamson
    Mike Riffe
    Mike Rimar
    Miriam Thor
    M. J. Waller
    M. R. Timson
    Nathan Elwood
    Nathan Henderson
    Nathaniel Webb
    Neil W. Howell
    Neil Willcox
    Nicholas Ozment
    Noeleen Kavanagh
    Nyki Blatchley
    Oliver Brackenbury
    Owen G. Tabard
    Paithan Campbell
    Patrick Odren
    Paul Miller
    Paul R. Hardy
    Paul Williams
    Peter Medeiros
    Phil Davies
    Phillip Yeatman
    P J Atwater
    Rab Foster
    Raphael Ordonez
    Ray Bossert
    Ray Krebs
    Rebecca Brown
    Reid Perkins
    Review
    Rex Caleval
    Rhonda Parrish
    Rick Hudson
    Rick Silva
    Robert Mammone
    Robert M. Price
    Rob Francis
    Ross Hightower
    Russell Hemmell
    Sabrina Rosen
    S. A. Hunter
    Sam Beaven
    Samuel Kennedy
    Sandra Unerman
    S. Cameron David
    Scptt Forbes Crawford
    S. Creaney
    Sean Jones
    S.E. Lindberg
    Shannon Walch
    Shelly Jones
    SK Farrell
    Special Feature
    Stephen C. Curro
    Stephen S. Power
    Steve Goble
    Story
    Suri Parmar
    Susan Murrie Macdonald
    Teel James Glenn
    T. Fox Dunham
    Thomas Grayfson
    Timothy Ide
    Tom Crowley
    Tom Howard
    Tom Lavin
    T.R. North
    T.S. Lance
    Vaughn A. Jackson
    Vincent Wolfram
    William Broom
    Williard M. Oliver
    Will Weisser
    Xan Van Rooyen
    Zephyr Dorsey

    RSS Feed

Web Hosting by iPage