Knocked out of orbit by a rogue comet, the asteroid Vesta rockets towards Earth, to pass by in a heavenly display of fire. Dubbed the party of the century by the media across the planet, thousands gather in cities to watch the spectacle and party until dawn.
Two decades into an eternal sentence in the impenetrable Void for daring to rebel against the might of the Empire, and Agent Ivory is ready to give up on life entirely, even if the unseen Warden of the prison won’t ever let him die.
The twist is that there is no twist and that would be a hell of a twist in itself because you would be looking for a twist but there wouldn’t be a twist because I promised you a twist and you were expecting a twist so the twist is that there is no twist but then you’d just be disappointed that there was no twist and I couldn’t say I always include twists.
K.B. Elijah is a fantasy author living in Brisbane, Australia with her husband and three cockatiels. A lawyer by day, and a writer by…also day, because she needs her solid nine hours of sleep per night (not that the cockatiels let her sleep past 6am).
by K.B. Elijah
Cold winds borne from grey skies whipped around me, mixing strands of my green hair with my tears.
“Merle.” Acquisition Officer Karea fluttered down onto the bridge beside me. “You were reported for conducting an unauthorised child transfer.” Her breath caught as she followed my gaze down to the violent, swirling waters beneath us. “What have you done with her?”
“Made sure the human parents keep the changeling,” I snarled. “My child will have a better life.”
Karea choked. “We’ve already conducted the transfer. The baby you took was…yours.”
The corner of a pink blanket disappeared beneath the frothing waves.
K.B. Elijah writes for various international anthologies, and her work features in dozens of collections about the mysterious, the magical, and the macabre. Her own books of short fantasy novellas with twists, The Empty Sky and Out of the Nowhere, are available on paperback and Kindle now.
by K.B. Elijah
Red lips in a pale face, puckered in surprise. Tendrils of auburn hair haloing her head as if she dances underwater. Blue eyes wet with the first vestiges of shock, death taking her before it fully formed.
Mortals and their deceptively ephemeral beauty.
I bend, sweeping a crow feather through the bloody entrails of the girl, watching as it glows and blackens. Satisfied, I release my fingers and the feather flies to my back, reinforcing my pitiful wings.
One more necessary sacrifice, one more feather. A thousand more days like this, and I will have enough to fly once more.
by K.B. Elijah
At first, I thought it was the real estate agent. Who else bothered to come onto the property but Sandy White, her box of cheap biscuits in one hand and annual lease documents in the other?
But Sandy was pink cardigans and curls, not this hunched figure that loomed in the shadows of the moonlit driveway. Why did the shape of its head angle so? Was it just a trick of the darkness that lent it a gaping hole instead of a mouth?
I switched on the headlights, preparing to laugh at myself.
But the thing was wearing my face.
K.B. Elijah writes for various international anthologies, and her work features in dozens of collections about the mysterious, the magical and the macabre. Her own book of short fantasy novellas with twists, The Empty Sky, is available on paperback and Kindle now: see her website at www.kbelijah.com.