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Something Wicked SF & Horror Magazine #9 [MultiFormat]
eBook by Something Wicked Authors
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eBook Category: Horror/Science Fiction
eBook Description:  Something Wicked magazine is a quarterly Horror and Science Fiction short story magazine publishing some of the great new voices in the horror and science fiction genres. Issue 9 features 11 new stories and over 60, 000 words of fiction and articles, including part 2 of our new quarterly column by John Connolly. Fiction by Daniel W Powell, Greig Cameron, Kendyll Hogg, ZS Adani, Stephen Couch, Michael John Grist, Magnus, Glen R Krisch, Nerine Dorman, Steven Marston and Kurt Bachard.
Print editions available from shop.SomethingWicked.co.za Issue 9 Cover Art by Hendrik Gericke CONTENTS FICTION
9 Curzon Place by Daniel W Powell
art by Vianne
Deadfellas by Greig Cameron,
art by Pierre Smit
Red by Kendyll Hogg,
art by Vianne
Deception by ZS Adani,
art by Vincent Sammy
Baby's Got Blue Eyes by Stephen Couch,
art by Joe Doe & Eddie Marz
Freemantle Mons--The Leviathan Smile--by Michael John Grist,
art by Hendrik Gericke
The Fitting by Magnus,
art by Heidi Fivaz
Gleaners by Glen R Krisch,
art by Kobus Faber
Last Woman Standing by Nerine Dorman,
art by Joe Doe
A Place of Rest by Steven Marston,
art by Andrew Mokgatla
Southern Bride Gothic by Kurt Bachard,
art by Pierre Smit FEATURES
Editor's Note
Interview with Eva Mendez, by Henry Arnaud
Mark Sykes'; Sixth Sense of Humour
The Popularisation of SF--by ErikG
Writers Cornered: Interview with Etienne Krüger by Vianne Venter
John Connolly's Confessions of an Accidental Author
Games Reviews
DVD Reviews
Book Reviews
Featured Artists
eBook Publisher: Inkless Media, Published: February, 2009
Fictionwise Release Date: April 2009
5 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [1.8 MB]
, ePub (EPUB) [2.2 MB]
, Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [769 KB]
, Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [4.2 MB]
, Palm Doc (PDB) [199 KB]
, Microsoft Reader (LIT) [2.3 MB]
, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [248 KB]
, hiebook (KML) [2.5 MB]
, Sony Reader (LRF) [2.3 MB]
, iSilo (PDB) [377 KB]
, Mobipocket (PRC) [3.4 MB]
, Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [3.2 MB]
, OEBFF Format (IMP) [894 KB]
Words: 61667
Reading time: 176-246 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 19910444
 
It was 4:59 and a minute from dawn when Freemantle Mons the Leviathan Smile felt the Grammaton clockworkings die. He was up in the great clock-tower's belfry alone that night, calibrating old cogwork and balancing up the penny weight piles, a gas revelatory tuned soft and hissing by his side. It was a gradual death. It spread up from the coils as the unravel slowed, and the three story pendulum's swing faded out. It shifted along from the swing-banks and stores, and crept the tick-tocking cogs that filled out the walls, and leapt up the belfries from ceiling to floor. It died past Freemantle, it died beyond Freemantle, and Freemantle stood, and followed it go. It passed up three floors of balance contraptions, of old scales and measures weighing out hours and seconds. It passed through them all, leaving all of them silent, and up to the Hub where the four clock faces hung. Freemantle followed it up to the 42nd floor, to the top of the tower high above all the city, and watched the Grammaton death pass into the Hub, the great bronzing ball at the heart of the clock, and from there to the spindles that went North, and went South, and went East and went West, to the four clock-tower faces, to the hands and the tracers, and shut them all down, and stilled them all out. Then there was only Freemantle, silence, and the glow of the moon. Time passed. Or didn't pass. "Four fifty-nine," said Freemantle, reading the giant dials in reverse. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a bulky brass-cased watch, flipped open the lid and looked at the hands. They read 4:59, the same as the Grammaton, one minute from dawn. He stepped up close to the East face, peered through the clock's thin white glass skin out over the city, and watched for the dawn rising out of the Smelt, due straight after 5:00 and the Grammaton's chime. But the dawn didn't come. He waited. He counted a minute, then past two and past ten, but still the sun didn't rise, nor did the clouds in the sky move, nor the moon, nor the stars, nor the hands of the clock.
* * * *On the street down below people stood in bunches, talking fast and loud. In Grammaton Square, which should have been all pink and lit up with the glowing sandstone dawn, there was only dark, and shadows, and 4:59. The stall-mongers and men of the watch, the shoppers fresh out for their morning produce, all stood circled round, staring up at the clock, and up at the moon, and off to the East to the Sun-smelters' wall, all waiting for dawn to rise up. But still, the dawn didn't come. Freemantle moved through their ranks, took to the great Haversall road just busying up with traffic, flagged a half-asleep rickshaw, then sped East through the gathering muttering masses. * * * *At the Sun-smelters' gates it was dark. He banged on the doors, and waited a long time.
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