K.C. Ball lives in Seattle with her wife, Rachael, and a fussy cat. She is a 2010 graduate of the Clarion West writers workshop and won the Hubbard Writers of the Future award in 2009. Her fiction has appeared online and in print here at EDF and at Analog, Lightspeed, Beneath Ceaseless Skies and Daily Science Fiction. Her first collection of short stories, Snapshots From A Black Hole & Other Oddities, was published in 2012 by Hydra House Books. Her novel, Lifting Up Veronica, was published by Every Day Publishing that same year.
Sidney bulled his way in from the farmhouse porch, slamming the screen door, ignoring Maggie’s protests. She backed away from his advance, across the room to the very sofa she and Delia had occupied in peace, moments before. When her… Continue Reading
The January sky, with its waning moon, was a glistening onyx dome, hard polished and pin-pricked with the light of faraway suns. The young woman sat within shadow upon the wide concrete steps of the church; clutching a woolen blanket… Continue Reading
Blood-red neon outside makes liquid demands. Haul-It Inn. So I do, pushing my way through frosted plate-glass doors to strike a pose upon dented hardwood floor. Black take-me pumps and high-gloss cherry lips and Chip and Pepper blue jeans. A… Continue Reading
He remembers going to bed, tired after a long day of training, and he remembers noises in the night, the rush of cool air over his bared body, but he doesn’t recall how he got here; wherever here may be.… Continue Reading
Cora pushed her hair from her eyes and examined the eighteen-inch-high white neon letters, all capitals, floating dead center in the display windows; the left window, PSYCHIC, the right window, BARBER. Even though they seemed a matched set, Cora was… Continue Reading
I can say it now; the gags have been removed. I can admit that I unleashed a monster upon America; a bumbling, mumbling television superstar that children love and parents loathe. Hear me; I created Richard, the One-Eyed Hound. I… Continue Reading
Tires crunched driveway stone and a black sedan appeared at the gate. On the porch, Eva Jean Dickens eased back and forth in her rocking chair, waiting; whoever was in the car would come to her soon enough. A pitcher… Continue Reading