by Liam Hogan
There was no net. There was no audience, either. Not a live one, anyway. Just corpses, staring up into the big top.
If Sally didn’t make it to the waiting arms of the other trapeze artist, no-one would gasp as she fell screaming through the air, no-one would rush to help as she lay broken on the packed dirt.
She screwed up her nerve. They were in sync: now was the time. She leapt. For a moment, she feared she’d fallen short. But the hands were there. Sally grasped them, relieved.
Skeletal arms broke free and plummeted down with her.
Liam Hogan is an award-winning short story writer, with stories in Best of British Science Fiction and in Best of British Fantasy (NewCon Press). He’s been published by Analog, Daily Science Fiction, and Flame Tree Press, among others. He helps host Liars’ League London, volunteers at the creative writing charity Ministry of Stories, and lives and avoids work in London. More details at http://happyendingnotguaranteed.blogspot.co.uk