Featured Stories Category
The vault was cold and mostly empty. A few items of scuffed furniture were all that separated it from the most dismal of isolation cells. But if it didn’t resemble a home, at least it had a lived-in quality.
I set this story down, not expecting it will be believed, but, if possible, to prepare a way of escape for the next victim…
“Let’s get our hands back in the dirt.” His knuckles cracked. “I believe we have a unicorn skeleton to excavate.”
Olden sighed. “Yes, a corruption, okay? He started complaining about losing bits and pieces of his files, and suddenly his chip detonated for some reason!”
Humanity agrees to sell the planet Venus to vast and timeless alien beings in this quirky monologue by Dan Palacios.
A short story by Cory Trego-Erdner.
The terrifying giant pulled back her cheek membrane, revealing curving mandibles etched with tribal insignia. She let out series of clacks and staccato rasps and emitted a pair of dissonant hoots from her fully-extruded breathing tubes.
The third in this series of descriptive alien encounters, written and illustrated by Cory Trego-Erdner.
Many decades ago, I became quite close friends with a puyg. Muynurt, his name was. Quite an important official on his homeworld, actually.
The first in a series of illustrated articles by Cory Trego-Erdner describing close and personal encounters with an array of strange and interesting alien creatures.
Martians do not sigh. I will admit, however, to a certain resigned limpness in my tentacles as I crawled into the lavatory.
What I am contemplating—what I am about to do—is terrible. I won’t just be killing myself, I’ll be killing everyone I know, destroying every thing I know.
How do you tell the boffins what a Quandong should taste like when you’ve never tasted one?
Beyond Blue Skies e-zine, 15th March 2025: Continuing our series of interviews with the creators of the inventions which have shaped our world, today June Fieldhouse talks to Esther Ng, the inventor of the revolutionary fabric DeuteroDerm.
I always try my hardest to cling on to those last few words, that last moment of memory, just to make sure that nothing was missing when I emerged on the other side of the gate. Not that I’d remember if it were.
Time has a code, there are rules. You have to look right and left before you reverse.