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The patron
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The alien came to the library again, shortly before closing time, and quickly found a book.
"May this entity borrow The Complete History of Knitting?"
They always return the book they borrow after five minutes, but the ritual of checking it out seems important to them.
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The alien came to the library again, shortly before closing time, and quickly found a book.
"May this entity borrow The Complete History of Knitting?"
They always return the book they borrow after five minutes, but the ritual of checking it out seems important to them.
The knight's lance was broken, his armour split, his blood pooling under him.
"You failed," the dragon sneered. "There'll be no tales teaching children dragons can be slain."
"You failed," the dragon sneered. "There'll be no tales teaching children dragons can be slain."
Folklore read live!
The Working Class hero of magic Pumphut returns!
He will best those that swindle him.
The Working Class hero of magic Pumphut returns!
He will best those that swindle him.
2BR02B is a science fiction short story by Kurt Vonnegut, originally published in the pulp digest magazine Worlds of If Science Fiction, January 1962. The title is pronounced "2 B R naught 2 B" and refers to the telephone number one dials to schedule an assisted suicide with the Federal Bureau of Termination. The
"We got pants last year," Vera whined, "And shoes!"
"You're about to grow out of them," her parent reminded, "We still need to get you new books, pens, replace your backpack..."
Vera slumped, a little guilty about the backpack; it was meant to last her through to college, "Can I still get a new pendant?"
"You're about to grow out of them," her parent reminded, "We still need to get you new books, pens, replace your backpack..."
Vera slumped, a little guilty about the backpack; it was meant to last her through to college, "Can I still get a new pendant?"
Change of Life
by K. Tempest Bradford
It all started because I wanted a pet. All of us younger kids did. But Mom always said that there wasn’t room for any pets cuz there were so many kids. She had a point, I guess. There were nine of us. But then David, my oldest brother, left home when he was only seventeen and a half to join the Peace Corps. Mom cried for three days straight. Dad said it was only because she was going through the Change of Life.
The day after she stopped crying there was a bunny in the living room. No cage, just a bunny. I guess Dad bought him hoping it would cheer Mom up–and it did. She sat on the couch holding the bunny for hours and told us all that we had a new family member: David the bunny. Katherine, my oldest sister, said that Mom named it David out of a sense of displacement or some other big word she liked to use just because she wanted to be a psychologist or a psychiatrist or some kind of person who messes with your head.
I wasn’t impressed. I wanted a dog.
by K. Tempest Bradford
It all started because I wanted a pet. All of us younger kids did. But Mom always said that there wasn’t room for any pets cuz there were so many kids. She had a point, I guess. There were nine of us. But then David, my oldest brother, left home when he was only seventeen and a half to join the Peace Corps. Mom cried for three days straight. Dad said it was only because she was going through the Change of Life.
The day after she stopped crying there was a bunny in the living room. No cage, just a bunny. I guess Dad bought him hoping it would cheer Mom up–and it did. She sat on the couch holding the bunny for hours and told us all that we had a new family member: David the bunny. Katherine, my oldest sister, said that Mom named it David out of a sense of displacement or some other big word she liked to use just because she wanted to be a psychologist or a psychiatrist or some kind of person who messes with your head.
I wasn’t impressed. I wanted a dog.
‘What do you wish?’ whispered the well.
The girl hesitated. A hundred wishes sprang to her lips: food, shelter, friends. Friends! But there was something sad about the well. She didn’t want it to be sad.
‘Who are you?’
The girl hesitated. A hundred wishes sprang to her lips: food, shelter, friends. Friends! But there was something sad about the well. She didn’t want it to be sad.
‘Who are you?’
Three-Lobed Burning Eye (3LBE) is an online magazine of speculative fiction, bringing you stories of horror, wonder, and the weird. 3LBE launched in 1999, and has published authors Laird Barron, Gemma Files, Kelly Barnhill, Mari Ness, Kristi DeMeester, Gwendolyn Kiste, Cody Goodfellow, Nadia Bulkin, and Kealan Patrick Burke, among others. Each issue features four short stories. Beginning with issue 20, we offer audio readings, ebook formats, and online (responsive) format for mobile devices.
Our publishing schedule is thrice yearly, with a print anthology every other year.
All issues of the magazine are free online. Please consider different ways to support our publication and its authors, by donating and spreading the word. We also offer advertising opportunities.
3LBE Editor-in-Chief: Andrew S. Fuller.
Our publishing schedule is thrice yearly, with a print anthology every other year.
All issues of the magazine are free online. Please consider different ways to support our publication and its authors, by donating and spreading the word. We also offer advertising opportunities.
3LBE Editor-in-Chief: Andrew S. Fuller.
Story magic is power magic.
The unreal becomes real.
Words and images give form to all that can be imagined.
The unreal becomes real.
Words and images give form to all that can be imagined.
My phone rang and I snapped. I had just got the class’s attention! I finally got them to look up from their screens, ready to explain how many kids had died to get the cobalt for their damned precious phones.
“Sorry, and you’re from the consolidated what?”
“Consolidated union of Mousers, Templekeepers, Ship mascots and housecats. Mostly the latter these days to be honest. We are representing Princess Fluffykins in this matter.”
“Consolidated union of Mousers, Templekeepers, Ship mascots and housecats. Mostly the latter these days to be honest. We are representing Princess Fluffykins in this matter.”
There's a statue of a woman up on the high cliff. Her eyes fixate on the horizon, her face as still as the rock on which she stands. Moss licks at her feet, grass threatening to mount her legs and pull her down. She burns in the summer and freezes in the winter. Rain lashes her, soaking into her cracks. Her gaze is resolute, motionless, icy. She holds a spear in her hands, long and sharp as the day it was carved. Down below, waves crash at the base of cliff. She stands there, isolated and proud.
She has stood there for centuries or more, watching as the water caresses earth and carries it away so slowly. Bit by bit, the cliff shrinks, the edge drawing ever closer to her heavy feet. Someday, she'll have to choose between taking a single step back or falling. I can almost see her shattering into a million pieces at the base of the cliff, the air snapping up her dust. It'll take centuries before erosion reaches her, but I have every faith she'll still be there. She's waiting for something inevitable. I wish I knew what.
She has stood there for centuries or more, watching as the water caresses earth and carries it away so slowly. Bit by bit, the cliff shrinks, the edge drawing ever closer to her heavy feet. Someday, she'll have to choose between taking a single step back or falling. I can almost see her shattering into a million pieces at the base of the cliff, the air snapping up her dust. It'll take centuries before erosion reaches her, but I have every faith she'll still be there. She's waiting for something inevitable. I wish I knew what.
"How much longer?" asked Marcel.
Anika paused to remove several lock picks from her mouth. "It'll be a while yet. I'm only on number sixty-four."
Anika paused to remove several lock picks from her mouth. "It'll be a while yet. I'm only on number sixty-four."
My cat woke up, did a big stretch, and yawned. Then she hiccoughed, turned into a small dragon, and coughed up a fireball.
"!!!" I said.
"!!!" I said.
The imp was perched on the back of my dining chair.
I groaned and clutched my cereal bowl. I'd forgotten about the pact I'd made the night before in a bout of high spirits and a higher Alcohol By Volume spirit.
I groaned and clutched my cereal bowl. I'd forgotten about the pact I'd made the night before in a bout of high spirits and a higher Alcohol By Volume spirit.
“STOP! Don’t feed that to the cat. I have to weigh it first.”
“Did you put your CAT on a DIET? That’s mean.”
“No, I’m doing an experiment to prove that cat zoomies are thermodynamically impossible based on their food input.
“Did you put your CAT on a DIET? That’s mean.”
“No, I’m doing an experiment to prove that cat zoomies are thermodynamically impossible based on their food input.
Vincent was a misfit; he stood 5’2” fully erect, he was rather overweight and his scalp clung on grimly to what little hair he had left. Nature hadn’t dealt him a good hand but he’d played it well and was quite a successful engineer. He sat at the table by the door of the coffee shop. It was draughty and most customers sat elsewhere, allowing him the privacy he desired. He nervously tapped the plastic spoon on his cup as his eyes darted up and down the street outside. The door swung open causing a wintery draught. A short, plump, spotty man invited himself to sit at Vincent’s table and glowered at him.
“Well?” The man asked.
“Well what?”
“How’s it gone? You’ve been here for five orbits; what are your conclusions?
“I like them.” Vincent answered bashfully.
“You weren’t sent here to like them; you were sent here to study, reconnoitre, to pave the way for our Invasion.”
“I’m not sure if we should, it doesn’t seem right.”
“Well?” The man asked.
“Well what?”
“How’s it gone? You’ve been here for five orbits; what are your conclusions?
“I like them.” Vincent answered bashfully.
“You weren’t sent here to like them; you were sent here to study, reconnoitre, to pave the way for our Invasion.”
“I’m not sure if we should, it doesn’t seem right.”
I remember the first time I saw you, riding across the plain towards my castle walls. Your pennant flew behind you, a red phoenix on a black field, the matching crimson plume of your helm rippling in the wind.
Your armies gathered at your back.
Watching from the ramparts, I knew you were a foe to be reckoned with. I had heard tales, of course, but it was different seeing you with my own eyes: the easy way you sat your horse, the breadth of your shoulders in your black armor. Yet our walls had never been breached, and you—even you—would not succeed. I ordered the women and children inside the keep, but I kept my gaze trained on you just as yours was on me.
The Ghosts Haunting the New Mill at the Innerste River
The new mill[1] at the Innerste river within the Upper Harz region is said to be haunted. It is believed that the cause for this are the old possessions of the papacy which were destroyed when the mill was built. For there used to be a monastery where the mill stands now. And when the mill was built during Protestant times, the ghosts of the old monks grabbed the workers by their feet and pranked them constantly. Furthermore, at one particular location a small flame was burning, and a fat monk - a ghost - was visible the entire day. This ghost pointed towards the spot where the flame burned throughout the day. Finally, the workers - who did not know where else to turn, and furthermore suspected that treasures were buried here - fetched a Catholic priest[2] and asked what ought to be done here. After the priest had observed the activities of the ghost for a while, he said: “Yes, a lot of things are here, and for this reason the ghosts cannot rest.” He now had the workers dig at the spot where the flame burned according to his instructions, and there they found a thrice-locked chest which was surely filled with money. But the priest said that he would have to take the chest home and speak many prayers over it before the money could be taken out. Thus, they transported the chest to his home on a wagon pulled by four horses, and the four horses were barely able to move the chest from the spot. When the priest did not bring the money within the chest back to the new mill at the appointed time, the workers went to the priest’s home. There, they found out that the priest had gone away, but the chest had been left behind. When they finally opened it, there was nothing inside except for a single red pfennig coin.[3] The priest had quietly taken out the rest and sent it ahead to a destination where he himself had planned to go.
The new mill[1] at the Innerste river within the Upper Harz region is said to be haunted. It is believed that the cause for this are the old possessions of the papacy which were destroyed when the mill was built. For there used to be a monastery where the mill stands now. And when the mill was built during Protestant times, the ghosts of the old monks grabbed the workers by their feet and pranked them constantly. Furthermore, at one particular location a small flame was burning, and a fat monk - a ghost - was visible the entire day. This ghost pointed towards the spot where the flame burned throughout the day. Finally, the workers - who did not know where else to turn, and furthermore suspected that treasures were buried here - fetched a Catholic priest[2] and asked what ought to be done here. After the priest had observed the activities of the ghost for a while, he said: “Yes, a lot of things are here, and for this reason the ghosts cannot rest.” He now had the workers dig at the spot where the flame burned according to his instructions, and there they found a thrice-locked chest which was surely filled with money. But the priest said that he would have to take the chest home and speak many prayers over it before the money could be taken out. Thus, they transported the chest to his home on a wagon pulled by four horses, and the four horses were barely able to move the chest from the spot. When the priest did not bring the money within the chest back to the new mill at the appointed time, the workers went to the priest’s home. There, they found out that the priest had gone away, but the chest had been left behind. When they finally opened it, there was nothing inside except for a single red pfennig coin.[3] The priest had quietly taken out the rest and sent it ahead to a destination where he himself had planned to go.