The Abyssal Palette

Andrew M. Henderson

An aging painter’s career is reignited by the discovery of a mysterious pigment, but each new canvas seems less like a creation than a doorway to a troubling realm.

Robert Kline stood before the blank canvas, his once-steady hand now trembling slightly as he raised the brush. The tremor wasn't from age, though at fifty-three, he wasn't exactly young in the youth-obsessed art world, but rather from the gnawing knowledge that whatever he painted today would be met with the same indifference as everything else he'd produced in the last five years.

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Coming Soon in issue II

Out of the sky

Dan Benamor

It was partially obscured by clouds. In a way, this made the sight even more distressing. Because it left ambiguous the full size of the thing in the sky. I knew, intellectually, things, objects, could be that large. And at first, I assumed it had to be an object. It wasn’t a meteor. I’m not a scientist, but what little I know of meteors led me to believe a meteor would approach much faster. What then? A craft of some kind? This gray, wide, enormous entity in the sky.