Aurealis #66

By Michael Pryor (Editor)

Aurealis #66 delivers a double punch of shivers with a little touch of Australian Gothic in ‘The Sheep King’ from Chris Stabback and the unsettling, unnerving ‘Burning Green’ from O.J. Cade. Patricia O’Neill also concludes her fascinating ‘Go the F**k to Sleep’ article with the usual number of eyebrow-raising moments. With more reviews, articles and interviews, Aurealis #66 proves that Aurealis keeps getting better and better.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chimaera Publications
• Release date: Nov 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781922031204

Book preview

AUREALIS #66

Australian Fantasy & Science Fiction

Edited by Michael Pryor

Published by Chimaera Publications at Smashwords

Copyright of this compilation Chimaera Publications 2013

Copyright on each story remains with the contributor.

EPUB version ISBN 978-1-922031-20-4

ISSN 2200-307X (electronic)

CHIMAERA PUBLICATIONS

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Hard copy back issues of Aurealis can be obtained from the Aurealis website:

www.aurealis.com.au

Contents

From the Cloud — Michael Pryor

The Sheep King — Chris Stabback

Burning Green — O J Cade

Xtreme Science: Go the F**k to Sleep—with zombies — Patricia L O’Neill

Reviews

Next Issue

Credits

From the Cloud

Michael Pryor

Spec Fic short stories are hard to write.

Consider this. When setting out to write Science Fiction or Fantasy, the writer must not only undertake all the standard elements of writing a story—characterisation, setting, plotting and use of language—but must also introduce the reader to a world that could be vastly different from ours.

A short story writer in a more conventional genre can, essentially, take shortcuts. She can assume that the sun will set every day, that things will fall to the ground if dropped, that society will work in a number of well understood ways—and that her readers will take such for granted. Speculative Fiction? Not so much. The world could be ruled by a theocracy where heretics face unimaginable punishments. Gravity could be many times what we are used to. Suns might only set once every few thousand years.

This business is often called Worldbuilding but, in reality, that’s only half the challenge. Once the Speculative Fiction writer has built the world, she must craftily present it to the reader in a way that isn’t ham-fisted or clichéd. The art of sifting in this vital background detail is an underappreciated one. When it’s done deftly, it’s a seamless joy and a tribute to the skill of the writer.

See and appreciate how William Gibson inveigles us into the slick and gritty cyberpunk world of Neuromancer, or how Lois McMaster Bujold subtly lets us know backstory to the Vorkosiverse while we’re concentrating on the adventures of her characters, or how easily we accept time travel in a Connie Willis tale because of the adroit seeding she’s done underneath our notice.

All this is difficult enough to do within the reach of a novel. Doing it within the confines of a short story is remarkable, and yet that’s what our Aurealis writers do again and again.

Here, in this issue, for your delight and amazement, are two fine examples of this extraordinary aspect of writing Speculative Fiction.

Back to Contents

The Sheep King

Chris Stabback

‘Listen to me,’ said Jack, fixing the stranger with his one good eye, ‘listen, he was in the ravine, right? He was cut off and he couldn’t climb back out because of the mud. It was pissing down. The ground was turning into soup. No, shut up and listen.’ He pointed his finger in the stranger’s face, but the stranger didn’t seem bothered.

The stranger seemed amused, if anything. If I had known then what I know now, I would have asked him his name. I would have paid more attention. He was big; the stories don’t lie about that. He was so big he was still tall sitting down. He had mentioned travelling from somewhere south of Ashburton—I wish I could remember where—when he arrived at our little safe house. No sooner had he sat down at the bar than Slutty Jack had started telling the story:

‘We couldn’t see shit; we were navigating by touch and memory. I saw him fall from the top, but it was too dark to see him from up on the ridge where I was.’ Since the events of a few weeks earlier, Jack had been telling the story a lot. Most of us had stopped buying him drinks.