Bards and Sages Quarterly (July 2022)

By Julie Ann Dawson, KT Wagner, Carol Scheina and 5 more

Now in our 14th year of publication, the Bards and Sages Quarterly strives to bring fans of speculative fiction a variety of new and established voices to enjoy. Each issue features an eclectic range of styles and voices to delight audiences. This issue features work by Gregory Alan Burhoe, John Didday, Peter M. Floyd, Charlotte H. Lee, Susan Meyer, Carol Scheina, and KT Wagner.

 

In this issue:

 

A biological occultist needs to figure out a way to appease the moon after it moves out of orbit in search of its missing spider in The Moon Spider.

 

A young woman inadvertently discovers the strange goings-on in her father's funeral home in The Mortician's Daughter.

 

A child employs a new invisible friend to achieve revenge against those who bullied him in Hully.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bards and Sages Publishing
• Release date: Jun 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201571924

Julie Ann Dawson

Julie Ann Dawson is an author, editor, publisher, RPG designer, and advocate for writers who may occasionally require the services of someone with access to Force Lightning (and in case it was not obvious, a bit of a geek). Her work has appeared in a variety of print and digital media, including such diverse publications as the New Jersey Review of Literature, Lucidity, Black Bough, Poetry Magazine, Gareth Blackmore’s Unusual Tales, Demonground, The Philadelphia Inquirer, and others. In 2002 she started her own publishing company, Bards and Sages. The company has gone from having two titles to over one hundred titles between their print and digital products. In 2009, she launched the Bards and Sages Quarterly, a literary journal of speculative fiction. Since 2012, she has served as a judge for the IBPA's Benjamin Franklin Awards.

Book preview

Mrs. Whitfield’s Treasures

by Susan Meyer

THE DOORMAN PRESSED the call button. Mrs. Whitfield, you have a visitor. It was late for the old lady to have a guest and he’d already told the insistent stranger as much. No one came for whatever it was she did after dinner.

The building’s speaker crackled in response. I’m done seeing clients for the day, dear. Please send them away.

He shrugged, as though saying I told you so without actually saying it.

The visitor slid past him and pressed the button. Vittoria, it’s me. Before the doorman could ask her to leave, the speaker crackled on once more.

Let her up.

VITTORIA WHITFIELD moved her antique body around the flat as quickly as she could, tidying up here and there, hiding this and that, and burning a few papers in the fireplace for good measure. She expected Adriana might come for her, but she didn’t think it’d be so quick.

Knock, knock.

She tossed a few more papers into the flames, grabbed her ruby-studded cane, and surveyed the flat for any other stray items that’d need to be removed. Vittoria prided herself on her good housekeeping and finely decorated home. It’d be a shame for Adriana to see it looking less than its best after all these years.

Knock, knock, knock.

Vittoria hobbled toward her gilded door, taking great care to push problematic items from sight on her way. Adri, you’ll have to give me a moment, she called out. These old bones don’t move as they used to.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, kno—

Vittoria opened the door and Adriana’s gracile, pounding fist missed her head by inches. Adriana did not appear to care. She certainly didn’t apologize, but then, she never was one for pleasantries.

How can I help you? Vittoria said.

Adriana pushed past her and began searching the lavish flat in silence, her fingers passing over items that she let fall to the floor, tinkling as they smashed into delicate glass fragments, shards of their former beauty. A dancing hippopotamus, a screaming macaque, a puffed-up pigeon. Each one destroyed with the flick of a finger.

Vittoria followed behind Adriana, trying to catch what she could. You look good for your age, Adri. Still spry.

Adriana Montavan was spry. And gorgeous. With the body of a woman in her early thirties and the knowing eyes of a woman in her late thousands. She ignored Vittoria’s baiting.

I’m sorry, are we not doing chit-chat today? Adriana would sooner die than engage in something called ‘chit-chat’ and Vittoria relished the irritation she knew she’d be causing with the mere suggestion. Too busy to talk to the person whose home you’re ransacking? Vittoria huffed as she tried to catch a jade lion on its way to a premature death. Its head bounced off when it hit the ground. Such a shame. She really liked that one.

Adriana began rummaging through a stack of papers on Vittoria’s desk. She wouldn’t find what she was looking for there. In the ashes of the crackling fire, yes, but Adriana was wearing an expensive, form-fitting red dress. It looked as though it might rip if she bent to inspect the fireplace. It’d definitely stain from the soot. No, no, she wouldn’t look there. Vittoria was willing to bet on Adriana’s vanity any day.

She stood beside her guest, spectating her fruitless foraging. I haven’t seen you in this part of town for a while. She playfully poked Adriana, who continued to toss items off the desk, uncovering more and more dead ends. It might be my mind slipping, but I thought we discussed the terms of your visitations ages ago. Our boundaries. Or have you forgotten the rules?

Adriana swiveled around and leaned close to Vittoria’s face, pressing a finger into the woman’s delicate chest. Don’t you dare speak of the rules to me. I know what you’re doing here.

Vittoria fumbled backwards, grasping for her cane. Careful! She steadied herself and shook an impotent fist at Adriana. I’m fragile.

Oh, enough of this. Adriana slammed her fist into the old woman’s forehead. From the shell of Vittoria Whitfield fell an impish young woman with bright eyes and black curls, cascading over her shocked face. She skidded across the floor and slammed into a cabinet.

Vittoria picked a few pieces of glass from her bare legs and saw the body of the old woman she’d just been. Her mouth agape, she stood up and prodded the broken casing of Mrs. Whitfield with a bloody foot.

Look what you did! Vittoria shouted. You have no idea how long it took me to cultivate this persona. You’ve never even bothered to be anyone but yourself. How could you possibly understand the damage you’ve done? She grabbed the old woman’s arm, which crumbled in her hands. All for nothing now. The life I’ve built here...gone. She felt like she might shed a tear. She waited, but none came. You have no respect for me, Adri. You never have.

Adriana rolled her eyes and walked away. So dramatic. When will you grow up?

Vittoria shook with anger as she watched Adriana calmly resume searching the desk, briefly assessing then casting aside items she deemed useless. Just as she’d