Moon Dust

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Werewolves Versus Fascism, May 2017

“She needed moon dust to protect herself. She needed moon dust to stay lupine.”

Rainal gripped the vial of moon dust tightly in her clawed hand. It was the only vial she had left.  Without it…  No, she wouldn’t think about that. She would find a new source of dust in this space station bazaar. Someone had to be selling it.

Rainal passed one shop after another:  avian aliens with fearsome hooked beaks and massive talons sold specially tailored clothing; reptilian aliens with scaly hides that gleamed like finely polished armor sold tech upgrades for starhoppers; and ursine aliens that towered over everyone with their impressive furry bulk sold dishes of curry. Continue reading “Moon Dust”

Memory Sprites

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Fantasia Divinity Magazine, Issue 5, December 2016

“Lights dance behind the trees, coming closer, until the glowing figures of six childlike sprites form in the darkness.”

Camping with my sister Phyllis feels like a cargo cult.  If she hikes into Uncle Mark’s forest, stakes out a tent in the dirt, cooks instant stuffing on a propane stove, and toasts hot dogs on sticks, then she believes the happiness of childhood will come flooding back.  But all I see is a sadly empty camp site.  There are no cousins climbing trees, rock-hopping across the river, or searching for frogs — they’re all grown up and scattered across the country.  Hell, Erika lives in Australia.  Instead of aunts and uncles laughing over a lively game of Brain-Dead Bridge around the campfire, it’s just me, Phyllis, and her travel backgammon set. Continue reading “Memory Sprites”

Missing: Friendly Spook

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Fantasia Divinity, Issue 9, April 2017

“At night, I wander the neighborhood, watching for feline-shaped shimmers and am disappointed every time I see one, only to realize the shadowy figure is opaque, solid, alive.”

I wake up in a cold sweat, but nothing is wrong.  There is no supernatural wailing; no undead yowling; no eerie scratching at my door.  Not even an unsettling purr.  All is silence.  As it has been, for the last several nights.  I wrack my memory, but I can’t recall how long it’s been since I heard Cassie, carousing in the dark, haunting my house and keeping me awake. Continue reading “Missing: Friendly Spook”

Ecto-Cafe

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in The Daily Grind, April 2019

“Doggonit. No pastries today. They were all possessed.”

Sunny reached for the strap of her ecto-pack, but before she could pull the bulky piece of technology out of the sedan’s hatchback, an imperious feline voice rang out from the driver’s seat:  “What do you think you’re doing?”

Sunny mumbled something about gearing up, but Ripley, the small white cat who was the de facto leader of the Ecto-Busters, cut the yellow lab off.  “You don’t need an ecto-pack to run into a cafe and pick up a quick snack.”

Continue reading “Ecto-Cafe”