They saw the water carriers again. Against the Martian reddish desert sand and rocks, the mirage was hazy. The illusion was of several human-like figures marching solemnly across the sands, each bearing two large urn-shaped containers full of water.
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A Martian Christmas, With Ghosts
They saw the water carriers again. Against the Martian reddish desert sand and rocks, the mirage was hazy. The illusion was of several human-like figures marching solemnly across the sands, each bearing two large urn-shaped containers full of water. They could see the water sloshing, some of it spilling to the ground and sizzling as though the sands were hot.
The first Martian colony was populated by scientists, engineers, labourers and one historian and poet named Josiah Endicott. Josiah had witnessed this phenomenon more than once. He was in his late twenties, with a full head of dark hair and short beard, and looked almost professorial despite his age.
He approached the colony’s psychologist, Noelle Paxton, about the latest sighting. She had never seen the phenomenon.
Noelle was young and energetic, with short brown hair, soft features, a gentle smile, and a slim figure even in the bulky protective suit.
He was still uncomfortable speaking with the breather implant. “It’s always the same, three figures carrying water.”
“What do you think they are?”
“Martian ghosts.”
Story of the Year Winner
Ripped Away by Juliana S Mills voted Story of the Year 2015 by readers of Kraxon Magazine.
Twelfth Zodiac Eclipse – Revenge
Gertrude and the others were glad to finally return to The Sun Dancer. Their stolen gunboat, renamed The Tiger’s Eye II by Tristan, had not taken long for the crew of pirates to hijack, and they were delighted with the small arsenal of weaponry its former owner, a bounty hunter, had left them.
Zodiac Eclipse – Revenge
Gertrude and the others were glad to finally return to The Sun Dancer. Their stolen gunboat, renamed The Tiger’s Eye II by Tristan, had not taken long for the crew of pirates to hijack, and they were delighted with the small arsenal of weaponry its former owner, a bounty hunter, had left them. It was a tight fit with twenty of them squeezed into a ship designed for fewer than half a dozen, and they were grateful when they were safely aboard The Sun Dancer and could escape the gunboat’s confines.
The bald, bearded, bloated form of Captain Brasidas was waiting for them.
“I was having a ship refitted, after we saw The Tiger’s Eye crash,” he told Drusus, the first officer who had been in command of the mission. “Everyone ok?”
Drusus nodded. “No thanks to Ump’gomptar.”
Brasidas scowled. “The engines are straining to get to him, and we’ll incinerate the compound the instant we drop to sublight.”
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General submissions for 2016
Kraxon Magazine general submissions for 2016 are open.
•Genre – Science Fiction, Fantasy or related sub genres.
•Length – 1,000 (+/- 50) words excluding the title.
•Publication dates – 1st of the month throughout 2016.
•Payment – £30.
•Maturity rating – Family friendly.
•Inclusion in the Favourite Story of the Year 2016 competition – £100 prize.
Details, including the terms of publication can be found on the magazine submission page.
The Stormchaser By DG Jones
I first saw Daggart in some hick bar in Utah, slutty girls pawing over him, clamouring for attention. He didn’t look so special. He was grizzled, old. Overcoat like a cut-price Clint Eastwood, and he even wore a flea-bitten old cowboy hat.
The Stormchaser
I first saw Daggart in some hick bar in Utah, slutty girls pawing over him, clamouring for attention. He didn’t look so special. He was grizzled, old. Overcoat like a cut-price Clint Eastwood, and he even wore a flea-bitten old cowboy hat. What a joke. I shook my head in disgust and threw some cheap whiskey down my throat. One of his groupies tore herself away from him and made her away to the bar, ordering a vodka, even cheaper than the whiskey.
“Hey pretty,” I said. “Who’s the sugar daddy?”
She looked at me as if I were something she’d scraped off her shoe, and took her vodka away. I grunted. Who was I kidding? Why would a sweet thing like her be interested in a dried up old prune like me? Or like him, for that matter? He was even older’n I was.
I musta had too much of that whiskey but when he broke from the cabal I followed him to the john. Up close I could smell him; iron and old meat. He was shaking his pecker off when I finally asked him, “So come on, pal, what’s your secret?”
General Submissions for 2016
Submission status – Closed
Twelve stories will be published on the 1st of each month throughout 2016. Please refer to the General submission guidelines and terms of publication for further details.
Genre – Science Fiction, Fantasy or related sub genres such as supernatural, utopian and post-apocalyptic to name a few.
Length – 1,000 (+/- 50) words excluding the title.
Publication dates – 1st of the month throughout 2016
Where – Please send your story to shorts.sub at kraxonpublishing.co.uk
Please see the FAQ’s for commonly asked questions.