NOTE: No submissions will be accepted until the current anthology is published.
Science fiction stories. Fantasy stories. Horror stories. All for adults, but of the family-friendly persuasion.
T. Gene Davis’s Speculative Blog posts free science fiction, fantasy, and horror stories–mostly by guest authors. Subscribe (on the left) for the free sci-fi, horror and fantasy stories newsletter delivered when new stories post. The stories accepted are for adults (sometimes with mature themes), but safe to leave open on a tablet at the kitchen table where kids can get ahold of it. I currently pay $100 (US) for the right to publish your story on the blog and in the anthology. Check out the submission guidelines for more information.
Here are a few stories chosen at random to read, or check out the archives for more.
- Fiddler’s TaleIvy clung to thick stone walls surrounding the cottage entry. Shade from the castle’s high turreted tower gave some relief from the summer sun. An herb patch rested to the left of the entry providing a scent to the thick muggy air. Smoke curled from the cobblestone chimney defying the summer morning’s warmth. Entertaining a fire in the cottage was unpleasant, but the baker lived in the castle. Letal and Mary lived outside the castle. Taking their cooking to the baker took a lot of time. On days when Letal entertained the king with his music, Mary took the bread out to the baker. However, with Letal home she chose to endure the heat of the fire. He was glad for it. They were still sappy newly weds, and felt near physical pain at separation. “Letal,” Mary called from the fire’s hearth laying thick her best damsel in distress tone of voice. “Yes, my wife?” Letal responded, enjoying the playful attitude of his wife. “When are you going to stop adding, ‘my wife,’ to everything you say?” “I like the sound of it. So, never, … my wife.” He smiled at her as he spoke, showing imperfect yellow teeth. However, he had all of his teeth and was proud of it. He showed his teeth whenever he smiled. “Do you have a tune in that fiddle of yours for getting rid of flies from the kitchen?” She teased Letal, knowing he hated anyone calling his viola a fiddle. “My viola? …
- Dwarves, Elves, and ConsultantsKalm looked at his two-headed axe lying in front of him on the boardroom table and wished that he hadn't left his shield at his desk. Armor was out of the question, his helm and chainmail sat uselessly in the trunk of his car in the darkest depths of parking level thirty-three, section D. "-but who is saying that we need to hire consultants?" The vice-queen's voice cut through him like a shard of ice killing any further thoughts of his forgotten armaments. You could always hear it in her voice first. The practiced fake charm slithered away to reveal the more suitable growl that lurked underneath.
- Layover"The layover was only two years." Hazel let out a breath and crinkled her already wrinkled forehead. "He told me about it." Keira bounced her newborn child, more to calm herself than to calm the baby. "We're newlyweds. How could he die? Was there a malfunction in stasis?"
- Hello, Is Anybody There?Major Pax's bony hand rested next to Sam's eliminated white pieces. A light bulb illuminated the chessboard they battled on to pass the years. A bomb from a previous conflict had started the war, a mindless mechanical device that exploded at an unfortunate time. They—the Blancs—took less than an hour to launch the missiles from the safety of their cubicles. The Noirs did the same, and the thriving world was gone. Sam had to contact each Blanc citizen to determine his or her status. He had compiled a list of numbers to call long ago, but had forgotten the original source or if it was in a particular order. Sam started calling once the radiation levels allowed.
- I Had Enough SilverI had enough silver to hire the turnip farmer as a guide, but did he speak the truth? “You can believe it, Gregory. It lives in the western wilderness, the most fearsome serpent I've ever seen.” Mud from baiting a hook stained his hands but did not reach the sleeves of his yellow shirt. No dragon had been seen in the region during the reigns of the last four kings, and most disappeared within a generation after the settlers drained the swamps. “How many dragons have you seen?” I inquired. He chuckled. “Um, well, I've seen plenty of brown rock snakes.” “You compare rock snakes to dragons?” “I'm telling you it stood bigger than a bear. Came upon my sister as she dug turnips.” “She cried out?” “No, my sister neither hears nor speaks, but you never met a kindlier girl. She ran back to find me mending the plow. Never too early to start preparing for sowing, you know. Pale as a corpse, she moved her mouth in vain and pointed.” “What did you do?” “As soon as I saw it, I took my father's spear from above the fireplace. He served as a spearman, a great one, in the king's army, and he taught me a little.” A woman's voice piped up from atop a small boulder that sat against the riverside. “Ralph, you've never seen a dragon, and I've never known you to miss a chance to back down from a fight.” The voice belonged to a …
- Frozen HeartThe snowfall muffled the distant highway, and frosted autumn leaves still clung to their branches. Cody perched on the bench's edge. His pug flopped into the carpet of snow at his feet. He watched Rachel's fingers molding the handful of snow—clumsy and awkward. So simple, so ordinary. Magicless. It was beautiful.
- Tiny Dolls"Wasn't your Aunt Elda just a little touched in the head?" Mrs. Casey asked, tapping her forehead. Mary Beth Quincy's eyebrows shot up. "A little? Oh no. A lot, I'd say! Always talking about curses and such." The two women snickered. Mary Beth's husband, Andy, joined in the laughter. Their daughter, Kimmie, looked around Great-Aunt Elda's living room. So many grown-ups but no one cared now if her brother, Jack, put his wet glass directly on the table. No one cared if someone sat in her great-aunt's favorite chair or spilled coffee on the rug. Kimmie remembered: Great-Aunt Elda had told her that everyone considered her to be a strange old lady. She even said that they couldn't wait 'til she, Elda Warren, died. "Then they'll see," she said. "They will see." Well, now she did die and Kimmie thought that maybe her great aunt truly was off her rocker; she had never let anyone--not even her, her only great niece (who really was very careful), go near the dollhouse that stood by itself at the top of the attic stairs. Kimmie pulled on her mother's sleeve. "The dollhouse," she said. "The one in the attic. Can I have it?"
- A Murder of CrowsThe wind’s desperate grasp strips the frail leaves from the silver maple but the giant looks as if it still wears its finery, a borrowed dress perhaps, with the murder of crows gathered within its branches. The girl listens to the soft flutter of wings, stretches out her hand to catch a single black feather as it drifts down in a slow spiral. When the stiff plume makes contact with her skin the birds alight and she gasps, even though she has already seen their departure. The girl watches the murder grow smaller. She watches the empty leaden skies for a long time, until the shadows of the night form and Morgan comes for her. “They’re gone.” Morgan follows her gaze into nothing. “Just like you said.” The girl tucks the feather into the breast pocket of her heavy flannel work shirt. “Is Sirin okay?” Morgan looks down at the girl. “I haven’t seen her since breakfast.”
- Ability"Stop it." "Why?" "Because you can't set fire to water." "No, you can't set fire to water." "Why would I want to set fire to water?" "You wouldn't, 'cause then I'd be right."
- Anchor and Key"Can I help you?" the ghost whispered. It drifted behind the dust-covered reference desk, an insubstantial wisp with a hint of long hair wrapped in an untidy bun and the barest glimpse of wire-rimmed spectacles. I tried not to stare. It had been decades since anyone had required corrective lenses. And, well, she was dead. She wasn't supposed to exist at all. I cleared my throat. The sound echoed in the library's cavernous skeleton. "I'm, uh, looking for a book."