In honor of International Talk Like a Pirate Day, a holiday dear to our hearts, we’re making the electronic edition freely available. One day only: Plunder away!

The issue features fiction from James L. Cambias, Marissa K. Lingen, Jeremiah Tolbert, Mikal Trimm, and and half a dozen others. And don’t miss our piratical interview with the creator of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Illustrated throughout by James Owen.

Take a look at our fine trailer, produced and read by Mary Robinette Kowal, with music by Sean Markey.

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Click READ MORE for the full table of contents and author information.

Table of Contents

Chimera and Qi, by Tinatsu Wallace

My mother doesn’t say, “I told you so.”

I’m supposed to be thankful for that. I can tell by the way she glances sideways at me from across the kitchen table, her lips tucked into a self-satisfied pucker. Already I regret coming here, but I say nothing. I am not the monster she thinks I am.

The Hummingbird Heart, by Angela Slatter

The tiny bird lies quiet in my hands; not tranquil but quiet. I can feel it vibrate against my palms and I think, this will be good for my purpose. I keep the fingers of one hand over its sharp black eyes, and with the other I feel the detail of its feathers, the infinite intricacies of its design.

I gently place the bird into the cavity in my daughter’s chest.

Maybe Blue, by Jenny Maloney

White and black. Mathilda had no other shades, not really. She wore a long black dress that draped to her ankles. A widow’s peak, as dark as any great depth of the ocean, pointed at the center of her forehead. Half of her face smiled, the black lipstick bringing the corner of her lips upward. A tiny black dot, a dimple, graced the smiling half. The other half frowned, perpetually sad. A black tear fell from the inside of her eye, trailing along the side of her nose, ending right before the black frown of her lip.

Juniper Grave, by Alex Dally MacFarlane

Gathered secretly from the cold tiles of our kitchen floor, held like eggs a-nesting in my sister’s finest silk handkerchief: my bones. Long and fine, criss-crossed by cutlery marks, pale in the moonlight as she placed them on the soft earth, as she tugged away grass and dirt, tears drip-dripping from her cheeks. With a whispered apology, she gently lowered my bones to the small hole and piled the earth back on top.

The Girl who Lost her Way, by D. Lynn Smith

Maya’s story begins the day a coachwhip snake raced up and bit her mother on the calf. The bite swelled until seven days later, Maya burst through her mother’s skin. Within a matter of days, she was walking and talking. Her mother didn’t think towonder how this could have happened. But she was relieved and thankful that she didn’t have to breastfeed or change a diaper.

The Shape of her Sorrow, by Joy Marchand

It was about cutting, then as always, the snip of tainted air in the space between worlds. Hester leaned on the brass doorknob, her ancient scissor-hand aching. “You going to stand there forever?”

The man stood in the doorway streaming rainwater, cradling a woman wrapped ankle to crown in a wedding quilt. A tangle of wet blonde hair spilled from one end of the bundle, a pair of sock feet from the other. The socks were green and red, with a pattern of candy canes.

Interview with Dave Farland, by Spencer Ellsworth

The Hand of the Devil on a String, by M. K. Hobson

On Thursday, after her four o’clock client had left with ten nails shining Pomegranate Desire, Seff found Mrs. Dee sitting in one of the molded plastic picnic chairs at the front of the Venice Nail Salon. The old woman was all dressed up, in a flower-print rayon dress and a black straw hat with a frowsy silk rose. Her thin lips were clenched like a fist. She stared through the front window, watching the empty street, and her hand hovered at her throat, at something black that hung there.

Mrs. Dee’s appearance at the Venice Nail Salon was as unexpected as it was unpleasant.

20th Anniversary Caveman, by Grá Linnea

It was my parents’ anniversary and I wanted to get them something special, something to distract them from criticizing me, their twenty-year-old failure.

I searched far and wide for the perfect gift, scouring our town. My search lead me to an ancient Moldovan shop where I bought a perfect gift book. The book itself was to be the present but upon perusing it, I found ap assage that suggested that the best gifts came from your own backyard, so I dug a hole. Under our perfect lawn, I found a caveman.

Even the Slowest Fall, by D. T. Friedman

Nef towered over Tabor, cup tipped as always. The drop he had spilled at the birth of the green generation had almost reached his waist. The drop he had spilled before that was turning into a bird and would, in time, followthe frozen flock of its brothers toward the ceiling. Tabor studied the transforming drop-bird, her expression unreadable.

“They say Nef moves slowly, even to the others in the Memory,” Tabor said. “His water spell isn’t even complete.”

Distractions, by Chad Brian Henry

A song plays on the jukebox–a song that hasn’t been written, sung by an artist that hasn’t been born. If I could force myself to pay attention, concentrate for just a moment, I’d realize I’m traveling through time again. But there’s a distraction: a woman entering the bar. She’s tall and pale around the eyes, blowing off her Monday morning hangover with perfume and gum.

Lucy, by Chrissy Ellsworth

The Glass Girl Looks Back, by Stephanie Campisi

There once was a girl made of glass. She walked with fragile, jagged steps, and everyone she touched wept long lines of red from their skin. When she smiled, it was reserved, as she feared her lips could so easily shatter.

Because she was made of glass, people would either look straight through her, their eyes opening up her secrets and toying with them, or they would look straight past her, as though she did not exist at all. Once, someone smashed a wide-mouthed green bottle in front of her, and deliberately crunched it under his boots, and she ran, crying, to her home of windows.

Clockwork Jungle submissions: All Clockwork Jungle submissions not yet responded to are still under consideration. Thank you for your extended patience as we work toward our final decisions.

All other submissions will be returned to their authors, with our thanks and our regrets.

Questions about the story:

Where did the idea for The Persian Box come from?
I have a soft spot for stories told in a tavern or bar and wanted to try my hand at it. Beyond that, I had a fuzzy idea about a man with a cursed box, and the muse took over as I wrote.

Do you work with a critique or writers group?
I used to participate in the Critters online writing group, although it’s been perhaps a year since I dropped out of the queue. The critiques were definitely useful. No particular reason for not participating right now other than I’ve been putting more energy into novels, and I highly recommend some sort of critique group for any beginning writer.

How did the story change as you developed it?
The first draft of this story was written in standard third person POV, and while it received good critiques, I was never satisfied with it. I wanted to quickly draw the reader into the story. After tinkering with it for over a year, I decided to make the reader a character in the story. I liked the result and started sending it out. You might say this is an experiment that turned out better than expected.

Do you have any any interesting anecdotes about the creation of The Persian Box?
Every critique led to speculations on just what POV the story has. I started off calling it First Person Monolog, but many readers insisted it was Second Person Passive or some such hybrid.

Questions about writing:

Who do you write for? Yourself or someone else?
That’s like asking any actor or singer if they perform for themselves or someone else. I’m a storyteller in search of an audience. Sure, it’s an art form and some writers have inspired people to both noble and terrible deeds. But when you get down to basics, we’re in Show Business. The page we write on is our stage. If at the end of my act, I’ve taken you away from the mundane and into a world of make-believe, then I’ve completed my part of the deal. Applause appreciated, but I’d rather you throw money.

How long had you been submitting before you made your first sale?
About five years, although there were sporadic attempts before that to get published.

How did you celebrate your first sale?
I cashed the check and blew the wad on a trip to McDonalds.

What writing projects are you presently working on?
I have several novels in different stages of completion. I should be doing yet another edit of a novella where I’m trying to figure out whether to cut or expand on for market purposes.

Does popular culture/entertainment influence your writing?
Only to the extent that I find it impossible not to critique the plot of any movie and that’s good practice for my own writing.

What time of day do you prefer to do your writing?
New chapters are done in the early morning. I wake about 4 AM and have several hours of quiet, uninterrupted writing time on the computer. Then I spend time during the day thinking about what I’ve written and do editing in the evening. I’m not a very fast writer.

Favorite short story read this year?
I discovered the Lucifer series of comic books by DC Vertigo. It’s based on characters created by Neil Gaiman, but this writer is Mike Carey. Some issues are pure magic. I urge you to buy issue #33. It will haunt you.

Favorite book read when you were a child?
I loved Doctor Seuss. I grew up in a little town that didn’t have a library, but I’d check his books out over and over again from the bookmobile that stopped in our neighborhood once a week.

Questions about the story:

Where did the idea for The Black Back-Lands come from?
The writers’ group I work with, Wordos in Eugene, Oregon, has holiday readings every year for Halloween and Christmas. I wrote this story for Halloween, naturally. The title comes from a book of classic Irish fairy stories I was reading to my daughter at the time — in that English translation, ca. 1890 I think, what we might think of as “Elfland” or “Under the Hill” was called “the Black Back-Lands”. That must be a literal translation of an Irish Gaelic term, as I’ve never heard it before, but it’s evocative. I wrote to the title, basically, transposing the idea of “Under the Hill” into a post-apocalyptic setting. The pathway on which the story takes place would be on the east face of Rocky Butte, in the very eastern end of Portland.

Do you work with a critique or writers group?
Wordos, in Eugene, Oregon. I’ve been there since December of 2000.

How did the story change as you developed it?
It didn’t, actually. I wrote it to be read aloud, in one quick sitting (it is flash), and except for some minor line editing, it remains as it emerged from my fingertips.

Do you have any cut scenes/outtakes/etc that might be entertaining/informative? Any interesting anecdotes?
I don’t really have any cuts to share, since the story emerged pretty much organically from my keyboard. This is quite typical for me, by the way, especially with shorter work. I will comment that having carried water camping a time or two I was somewhat consumed with the idea of how much those buckets would weigh. That east face of Rocky Butte is mighty steep. Believe it or not, I spent time thinking about the economics and defense practices of clifftop village in hostile terrain.

Questions about writing:

Who do you write for? Yourself or someone else?
I write for the story. That may sound pretentious, or even goofy, but it’s true. I don’t owe the audience anything, I owe the story everthing. Once I have released it into the wild, the story speaks for itself to the audience.

How long had you been submitting before you made your first sale?
Eleven years.

How did you celebrate your first sale?
I geeked out badly.

What writing projects are you presently working on?
I have a novel under contract to Night Shade Books which I need to finish soon. (Ahem.) It’s called Trial of Flowers and is a follow-on of sorts to my short story The Soul Bottles which appeared in Leviathan 4, ed. Forrest Aguirre. I’ve got another novel in progress called Original Destiny, Manifest Sin, a sort of magical alternate history of the Old West. I have to do some road-tripping this summer to Montana to do field research on the locations in that book.

Does popular culture/entertaiment influence your writing?
Not too much. I haven’t watched broadcast or cable TV since about 1994, and I get to the movies maybe five or six times a year. I don’t own a videogame system. I do pay a lot of attention to the news, via NPR, several dead tree magazines, and a number of Web sites, and I read a lot of fiction. So obviously those things filter in to me.

What time of day do you prefer to do your writing?
Any time works, but for reasons of my personal schedule early evening seems to be the most typical by far.

Favorite short story read this year?
It’s January 10th. What can I say?

Favorite book read when you were a child?
Lord of the Rings, of course.

Random Questions:

If you could trade places with anyone, who would it be? And Why?
Are you nuts? I’m having the time of my life. Now, I wouldn’t mind trading bank balances with a few people…

Do you believe in ghosts or the supernatural?
Do I believe? No. I am a dyed-in-the-wool empiricist. I would love to see evidence, or have a meaningful supernatural experience of my very own. I’ve had a couple of marginal supernatural experiences, but not enough to convince me. This of course in no way affects my ability to shamelessly exploit the noumenal world in my fiction.

If you have a day job, what is it?
I’m a marketing director for a Midwestern telecommunications company. Really. They all think I’m a total weirdo, but I do good work, so everybody’s happy.

Fast food: Yea or Nay?
Yeah baby. Junk food junkie.

Favourite food?
Pizza.

Favourite restaurant?
Nice restaurant: Castle Hill Cafe, Austin, TX
Pizza: Flying Pie, Portland, Oregon
BBQ (my other favorite): The Salt Lick, Driftwood, TX

Name one place in your hometown that you love to go to and would recommend to others to visit.
I don’t really have a hometown — born and raised overseas — but Forest Park in Portland, where I live now, is deeply awesome. Hundreds of acres of deep Northwest forests dark enough to put frost on your soul, right in the middle of town.

What are some of your hobbies?
Writing, writing, and, uh, writing.

Cat or dog person? (or something else, like birds, iguanas, or even evil robot monkeys?)
Cats. Dogs are ok, but not my thing. Cats are worthless parasites of course. Just ask mine.

Is there anything that you would “sell your soul” for?
More time in my life to write, both every day and on a lifetime basis.

All-time favourite movie?
Bladerunner.

If you had a working time machine what advice would you give a younger self?
Write more. Get serious sooner. (I made my first sale at 37.) And don’t eat that cheese whopper in the summer of 1986, cause that trip to the E.R. for food poisoning really sucked.

Do you have a secret skill that you never get to show off? (i.e. ambidextrous writing, blood-curdling screams, double-jointed, badmitton champion…)
Only with very close friends.

How many writers does it take to change a lightbulb?
None. We’re always working in the dark.

Questions about Route Nine

Where did the idea for Route Nine come from?
For various reasons I’ve found myself driving up and down California’s Central Valley many times. Route Nine is my collective impression of many small towns along that route, taken a step further.

Do you work with a critique or writers group?
I work with a ten-member online critique group.

How did the story change as you developed it?
It became decidedly weirder.

Questions about writing:

Who do you write for? Yourself or someone else?
I write for myself and hope that others will like it.

How long had you been submitting before you made your first sale?
Hmmm. I had a period of writing and submitting in my twenties, with a few sales to small markets and many rejection slips, and I really don’t remember the timelines. Then I took time out for kids and career. I started writing and submitting again seriously about three years ago, and almost immediately made a sale to Strange Horizons, which surprises me a lot more now than it did then. So you could say about 15 years or two months, depending on how you define it.

How did you celebrate your first sale?
That is between my husband and myself. (grins)

What writing projects are you presently working on?
I’m working on two young adult novels — one is a collaboration, and on the other I am the sole author.

Does popular culture or entertaiment influence your writing?
I’m sure it must.

What time of day do you prefer to do your writing?
Ideally, early afternoon. But I have to grab time as I can get it.

Favorite short story read this year?
Neil Gaiman’s A Study in Emerald from the Shadows Over Baker Street anthology.

Favorite book read when you were a child?
Susan Cooper’s The Dark is Rising

Random Questions

If you could trade places with anyone, who would it be? And Why?
Oh no. That’s like wishing for a million dollars and losing your child and getting a million dollar cashout on an insurance policy. I’m not qualified to play that game.

Do you believe in ghosts or the supernatural?
No — which leaves me conflicted, because my house is haunted.

What’s your day job?
I am a church secretary. No, really.

Fast food: Yea or Nay?
In moderation? Good Lord, yes.

Favourite food?
At the moment, I have to say sushi.

Favourite restaurant?
The Blue Nile, an Ethiopian restaurant in Berkeley, California. No idea if it’s still there.

What are some of your hobbies?
Horseback riding. Used to be embroidery, but my fingers have gotten rough and clumsy lately. Does reading count?

Cat or dog person? (or something else, like birds, iguanas, or even evil robot monkeys?)
I am hideously allergic to cats, so by default a dog person. All my current dogs are from Corgi rescue. I’m very fond of snakes, but I can’t keep them anymore because overnight, it seemed, I went from being indifferent to the plight of various feeder rodents to really being squicked at the sight of their little paws going down the gullet.

Is there anything that you would “sell your soul” for?
Nah. See the “trading places” answer above.

All-time favourite movie?
Favorite in terms of craft? The Third Man. Favorite in terms of gosh-wow fun? Raiders of the Lost Ark, which was recently given a run for its money by National Treasure.

If you had a working time machine what advice would you give a younger self?
Damn. Buy Amazon.com at $1 and sell at $100.

Do you have a secret skill that you never get to show off? (i.e. ambidextrous writing, blood-curdling screams, double-jointed, badmitton champion…)
I can toss various food items into the air and catch them in my mouth.

Quiz: How many writers does it take to change a lightbulb?
Depends on whether it’s an interstitial, slipstream, new weird or dark fantasy light bulb.

Sandro Castelli’s Cherub inspired Michael Livingston’s A Very Young Boy With Largely Clipped Wings.

Conceptions of the Mind, by Fatima Azimova, was the trigger for Aliette de Bodard’s Within the City of the Swan.

Chrissy Ellsworth’s My Career as a Fashion Designer inspired Dresses, Three, by Angela Slatter.

And Carrie Ann Baade’s Untitled (Hawk headed infant with frogs) gave us Flying and Falling, by Kuzhali Manickavel.

These art-inspired stories are joined by new stories from Daniel Rabuzzi and Josh Vogt.

View the full table of contents, or order your copy today!

Counting Down to the End of the Universe, by Sara Genge
Firefly Igloo, by Caroline Yoachim
Blue Joe, by Stephanie Burgis
The Bride Price, by Richard S. Crawford

To help ease the difficulty of navigation, here are some links:

The Art Issue
The Subscription Page

Thanks for your patience!

-Beth