LACKINGTON'S

speculative prose

What the Marsh Remembers, by B. Pladek

May 1930: Clearwater Marsh, Wisconsin. Rand began at dawn, with the peat. Ten years ago the state had dredged the marsh for farmland, but it had grown nothing but summer … Continue reading

June 7, 2021

Sokal, by Joseph Tomaras

The cage closes around the pre-war elevator in the pre-war building in Forest Hills. For Joshua Davidovich, a childhood of ample Sunday lunches in his great-grandmother’s sixth-floor rent-controlled apartment has … Continue reading

June 7, 2021

Learning Tihluhan in the Fourteenth Century, by A.J. Hammer

Nominative Temos Atritian knows many things about Tihluhan. It is a secret language, a language of the shadows, best for plots and secrecy and things half-known and half-understood; it fell … Continue reading

June 7, 2021

A Selection of Drinks from the Courts of the Five Silver Moons and the Seven Red Stars, by Mari Ness

1. Red Elderflower: A tangy mix of elderflower wine, strands pulled from the colour crimson, amaretto liqueur, and a splash of jealousy, served over coconut ice, this summer treat is … Continue reading

November 9, 2020

A Galactic History of the Asmodean Fire Hoof, by Alexandra Seidel

The Asmodean Fire Hoof was first created on Earth by a group of disenchanted former cultists. We know this for a certainty by their surviving writings and by how they … Continue reading

November 9, 2020

Barley Wine and Potable Myths, by Marie Vibbert

One time I had a barley wine that tasted like a summer’s day. Like too-tall, dry grass and tough, roadside flowers, with a bit of carroty sweetness, like Queen Anne’s … Continue reading

November 9, 2020

When the Hawkweed Blooms, by Randall Hayes

4am: Morning Glory Melatonin is down, prolactin is up. So is the baby, fussing, wet or hungry or something. It will be a couple of months before I can start … Continue reading

November 9, 2020

Tempus Vernum, by Michelle Jäger

“I’m going to be honest,” the doctor says. “Your chances aren’t good. Your AMH levels are low, which indicates that your ovarian reserves are low.” My partner squeezes my hand. … Continue reading

November 9, 2020

Old Fashioned, by Steve Toase

The portraits on the staircase plaster were worn and cracked by age, but Medford guessed not all the scars were caused by the passage of time. He had that in … Continue reading

November 9, 2020

Whiskey and Bones, by A.Z. Louise

Daddy came down off the mountain at dusk, the smell of ozone stars clinging to his duster. It was the longest he’d ever been gone, about half a month. He … Continue reading

November 9, 2020