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The Archer of Broken Pine Tor. Christopher Donaldson

Once there was a man named Frederick Alarcy who lived and died. He left a widow and two strong sons, and they lived through their grief on the slopes of Broken Pine Tor, close to where the great waterfall hits the Darwin River and the place where the deer come to drink.

Inheritance. Tony Billinghurst

Eric Miller looked troubled as he studied the bank statement yet again. He didn't notice Sue hurtle past him, dusting everything for the second time. She was reaching boiling point and snapped at him.     "Eric! For heaven's sake – he'll be here in a minute."

Bobbleheads. Bobby Wise

It was nearing closing time when Stacey Olmo got his first customer.     It had been a quiet day, and Lindell Street had seen little trade, as had Stacey's store.     But Stacey wasn't surprised. The world had fallen out of love with bobbleheads, or so it seemed.     Now, that wouldn't seem so bad to most, but Stacey owned Olmo's Original Bobblehead Emporium, a store that, once upon a time, was known as the number one stop for pop culture collectables and anything bobblehead related.

Within, and Without. David Dumouriez

London was always a place to wander around. You were never alone there, and yet, in another way, you were always alone. London was both welcoming and completely uncaring. Most of all, though, it was danger. Sparkling, dirty danger. Perhaps that was why I was drawn to it. It was history beneath your feet, with a backdrop laid right out for you by generations of the greatest set designers. It was yours, to do whatever you could with. (Which, admittedly, in most cases, was nothing. But still, the chance was there.)

Jack Curran. The White Castle

Seb was having doubts as he trudged up the spongy mud track toward the sea. It had rained steadily throughout his journey from London to deepest Cornwall, and now that he'd been forced to abandon the Audi — the single-track road he'd been following didn't reach all the way to the cliffs — he was soaked through. Blobs of rainwater covered his glasses, reappearing seconds after he wiped them away. The grasping mud had already ruined the Jimmy Choo Italian leather loafers he'd given himself as a present after…

The Initiation. Tommy DeJosia

The orange hue of the streetlight scattered photons amongst the fog where Paulo stood with a bloody knife in his hand. His sixteen-year-old self was no longer a self but a shell of a human. Standing there alone with fear in his eyes and trembling pursed lips. Paulo's muted tongue was as dry as the arctic air, and his heart just as cold. The blood from the knife dripped carelessly onto the pavement. A small puddle developed. Paulo wandered for a moment, trance-like, transient, sneakers scraping, almost zombie…

The Ring. Ashley Summerfield

'You married then, fella?'     The question shook me from my thoughts, as it so often did. I was relieved to be wearing gloves. This spared me from looking at the pale patch of skin that once sported a wedding band. The memory of Lily was a scar that would never heal.     'No,' I grunted to the taxi driver. 'You know what? I'll just hop out here. What do I owe you?'

Bertie's Christmas Eve. Saki

It was Christmas Eve, and the family circle of Luke Steffink, Esq., was aglow with the amiability and random mirth which the occasion demanded. A long and lavish dinner had been partaken of, waits had been round and sung carols; the house-party had regaled itself with more caroling on its own account, and there had been romping which, even in a pulpit reference, could not have been condemned as ragging. In the midst of the general glow, however, there was one black unkindled cinder.

Starlight. Michael Chin

The Rasite ship sprawled ten times the size of the little cruiser that Ambros had named Starlight. Starlight was built for little more than its two-man crew. The Rasite vessel looked as though it could have housed a colony. The Rasites fired a warning shot across the bridge of Starlight's nose, then transmitted a message over the universal radio receiver.