Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

Apex Magazine Issue 14
Apex Magazine Issue 14
Apex Magazine Issue 14
Ebook83 pages49 minutes

Apex Magazine Issue 14

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

Apex Magazine is an online digital zine of genre short fiction.

FICTION
Artifact by Peter Atwood
Schrödinger’s Pussy by Terra LeMay
Here We Are, Falling Through Shadows by Jason Sanford
Those Below by Jeremy C. Shipp
End of the Line: A Puzzle by Susannah Mandel

POETRY
Going Woodo by Colleen Kimsey
Wisdom by Lydia Ondrusek
Eclipse by Robert Borski

EDITORIAL
Editorial Dispositions: Saying Good-bye, Waving Hello by Jason Sizemore

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 30, 2010
ISBN9781452394572
Apex Magazine Issue 14

Related to Apex Magazine Issue 14

Related ebooks

Science Fiction For You

View More

Related articles

Reviews for Apex Magazine Issue 14

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    Apex Magazine Issue 14 - Apex Book Company

    Apex Magazine Issue 14

    Apex Magazine Issue 14

    Terra LeMay Peter Atwood Jason Sanford Jeremy C. Shipp Susannah Mandel Colleen Kimsey Lydia Ondrusek Robert Borski

    Apex Publications

    Editorial Dispositions Copyright © 2010 by Jason Sizemore

    Shrödinger’s Pussy Copyright © 2010 by Terra LeMay

    Artifact Copyright © 2010 by Peter Atwood

    Here We Are, Falling Through Shadows Copyright © 2009 by Jason Sanford (Originally appeared in Interzone, Issue 225)

    Those Below Copyright © 2007 by Jeremy C. Shipp (Originally appeared in Love and Sacrifice: Touching Stories About Sacrifice, 2007, Zen Films)

    End of the Line: A Puzzle Copyright © 2009 by Susannah Mandel (Originally appeared in The Daily Cabal, July 9 th, 2009)

    Going Woodo Copyright © 2010 by Colleen Kimsey

    Wisdom Copyright © 2010 by Lydia Ondrusek

    Eclipse Copyright © 2010 by Robert Borski


    Cover art by user PrettySleepy1


    Publisher/Editor-in-Chief—Jason Sizemore

    Senior Editor—Gill Ainsworth


    Graphic Designer—Justin Stewart


    ISSN: 2157-1406


    Apex Publications

    PO Box 24323

    Lexington, KY 40524

    Contents

    Editorial: Saying Good-bye, Waving Hello

    Jason Sizemore

    Shrödinger’s Pussy

    Terra LeMay

    Artifact

    Peter Atwood

    Here We Are, Falling Through Shadows

    Jason Sandford

    Those Below

    Jeremy C. Shipp

    End of the Line: A Puzzle

    Susannah Mandel

    Going Woodo

    Colleen Kimsen

    Wisdom

    Lydia Ondrusek

    Eclipse

    Robert Borski

    Editorial: Saying Good-bye, Waving Hello

    Jason Sizemore

    I suppose I should be teary-eyed. After all, this is my last edited edition of Apex Magazine for the foreseeable future. The past five years have been a wild roller coaster ride, that’s for sure. I can remember opening that first box of Apex Digest issue #1. The digests smelled like success to me (oh, the irony!). Going to my first convention and having writers like Brian Keene and Tom Piccirilli tell me that producing Apex Digest was a great service to genre fans. And through the magazine, I have met some of my best friends and some of the brightest and most supportive people on Earth. The joyous occasion of becoming an SFWA-certified market still rings fresh in my memory. Finally, there was the heartbreaking (but necessary) decision to move the digest to an all digital format.

    And yet, I can’t feel anything but enthusiasm and knowing I’m doing the right thing by stepping aside. It helps knowing that somebody as awesome as Catherynne M. Valente will be taking the helm and running the show. I anticipate some mind-blowing work coming out of Apex Magazine in the years to come.

    For now, enjoy this beefy July issue. Veteran author Peter Atwood presents a work of thriller-SF. Terra LeMay, in her first professional publication, shows us that even the law of physics can’t prevent love. There’s a whole slew of poetry, three reprints, and if you visit our website, an audio production of Terra LeMay’s story.

    Till next time!

    Shrödinger’s Pussy

    Terra LeMay

    Terra LeMay was born on top of a volcano (in Hawaii) and since then has crammed a lot of unusual experiences into a relatively short number of years. She tamed a wild mustang before she turned sixteen. Before twenty-five, she traveled throughout the U.S. and to parts of Europe and Mexico. She has also held some unusual jobs, like training llamas and modeling high-heeled shoes (though not at the same time!) At her current day job she pokes holes in people for a small fee, in a tattoo studio north of Atlanta.

    Shrödinger’s Pussy is her first published short story. You can find her online at www.terralemay.com.

    I am you, and you are me. We haven’t met, but we will, in some months. Then again in a year. More frequently after that for a stretch, though it doesn’t last. Or perhaps we never meet. Or just that single time, which was (will be) both meteoric and ephemeral.

    Except I remember that weekend and you don’t.

    I remember them all. All the moments. Even the ones you forgot, and those which never happened. They are all here, in this one place in my mind (in your mind).

    Our time together was (will be) catharsis for you, but I will fall in love, like a spaniel. The world cracked open the day we met (or another day, in another place), and we became one. We have always been (will always be) one. We stand in two places at once, two times, two dimensions. We are separate. But I am in your head, in my head.

    We grew up on either end of the same street. We both had grapevines growing in our yards. (Have you heard?) Yours in front by the mailbox, ours hidden like a naughty secret next to the fence out back. We only had three blocks between us, go figure, but the road stretched all the way from Antioch to San Juan, spanning a continent, spanning the ocean, spanning a million, million miles. Or only a millimeter.

    It took too long for us to find each other. (Sometimes we never do. Sometimes it is too soon.) Once we had, we were inseparable. Except when we fought. Or never meet.

    You always walked the difference between our houses, even though the hill between us was almost too steep to climb. I rode horseback (or drove a car) even though going to you is always downhill. Maybe it wasn’t laziness. Maybe it was precognitive thought—(Photons in two places at once, two times, two different dimensions, two heads, two minds, two hearts. Twins, inseparable even apart.)—the truth already, so subtle, so soon, so obvious.

    Maybe it’s only common sense, the knowledge that once I’d gone downhill to find you, I’d

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1