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Welcome to the weird! Acclaimed author and editor Laird Barron, one of weird fiction's brightest exponents, brings his expert eye and editorial sense to the inaugural volume of the Year's Best Weird Fiction. No longer the purview of esoteric readers, weird fiction is enjoying wide popularity. Chiefly derived from early 20th-century pulp fiction, its remit includes ghost stories, the strange and macabre, the supernatural, fantasy, myth, philosophical ontology, ambiguity, and a healthy helping of the outré. At its best, weird fiction is an intersecting of themes and ideas that explore and subvert the Laws of Nature. It is not confined to one genre, but is the most diverse and welcoming of all genres. Hence, in this initial showcase of weird fiction you will discover tales of horror, fantasy, science fiction, the supernatural, and the macabre. Contributing authors include Jeffrey Ford, Sofia Samatar, Joseph S. Pulver Sr, John Langan, Richard Gavin, and W. H. Pugmire.
415 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 26, 2014
He grabbed her wrist too tightly and dragged her around that corner she had no desire breech.
Anything but stay as the were, her watching helplessly as he climbed the stairs to the unknown.
There are two female guards in the whole sprawling expanse of the base, both wearing bikinis, chests heaving before they've even thought to pick a fight.
"Oh, how progressive!" Starlight claps her hands in mock rapture. "I suppose there's a mud pit just behind that door?"
The girls in bikinis exchange glasses; this is outside of their training.
"Look, honey. Honeys. Let me explain something to you. Super-villains pay crap. And there's no such thing as an Evil League of Evil healthcare plan."
One of the women takes a questioning step forward. Starlight holds up a hand.
"I won't make some grandiose speech about the fate of the world, or doing it for the children you'll probably never have, but I will say this—killing bad guys is a heck of a lot more fun. And we pay overtime."
And the forces of might and justice and looking damned fine in knee-high heels swells to fifteen.
In order to rescue a child who was not directly related to them, the rats were willing to sacrifice themselves. Yet we exploited this to get them.
"What?" she said. Her brown (???) was level, her mouth straight, her cheeks pale.
As the crown flies, it was three and a half, four miles from our front door to Prin's parents.
Its blackness was no a trick of the light; nor was the water full of dirt.