Recent sightings:
Forthcoming
- “The Last Astronaut,” Cosmic Horror Monthly
- “On the Last Day That You Die,” Intergalactic Rejects (anthology)
- “Adventures in Causality,” Black Cat Weekly
- “Their Words Like Leaves,” Tales to Terrify
- “Breakfast in Tick Tock,” Penumbric Speculative Fiction Magazine
- “Big Bang Enlightenment,” Stupefying Stories
2024
“Rocket Boy,” (order) Utopia Science Fiction, Dec 2024
“On the morning of departure, the sky is clear and the weather calm. Our parents and grandparents gather to say goodbye. They’re seated on the back porch drinking coffee and eating cheese Danish. I’m in the pilot seat, with Jennifer seated next to me as the co-pilot. Milo sits just behind us at the navigation panel.”
“House of the Hidden Moon,” (read) Nightmare Magazine, Sept 2024
Read interview with Nightmare HERE.
“That night we lost her,” says Mother, “I was asleep next to your father. You and Lilah were in the other bedroom—you lay tucked into your own bed, and your sister lay in the crib beside you. Your father slept like the dead, and nothing could wake him, but I’ve always drifted in and out of sleep easily. That night, lights flashed at the back of my eyelids, and I woke to a glow crossing the bedroom door and moving down the hallway.”
“Song of Nyx,” (order) Analog Science Fiction and Fact, Jan/Feb 2024
Read Interview with Analog HERE.
You already know the ending—the fading whoops and whistles, the lonely clicks echoing through canyons, the last whale song sinking into bone-rattling dirge. Our ending was never a surprise. Instead, I will tell you about the beginning. Read Tangent review HERE.
“Island of Dolls,” (read) Stupefying Stories, September 23, 2024
Reprint: Originally published in Ghostlore Anthology podcast
Fantasma de la tierra, they would say. Ghost of the earth. Bent trees tangled across the island like charcoal smudges scratched into the land. It was said that lost souls lived in that wood, twisting the trunks and creaking the branches.
“Doves Fly in the Morning,” (read) Small Wonders, #8, Feb 2024
Reprint: Originally published in Analog Science Fiction and Fact
“Engineering near-light speed travel felt a hell of a lot easier than saying goodbye. Banjoko leaned deeper into the service port, worked his fingers along the plasma harness as he checked each power cluster.”
“Urban Explorer: Site 1337” (order) Strange Locations Anthology, 2024
The Morris Building, Pueblo, CO
The elevator car is stuck half-way at the third floor, so you’ll have to drop into it, which is creepy as hell because it might slip and cut you in half, right? Just do it. Take a look at the buttons.
“The Worm’s Twist,” (read) Stupefying Stories, August 1, 2024
Daylight poured into the Oval Office. Sylvia Albright stood at the windows with her eyes closed, sunshine warming her face. For a moment she forgot that the world was falling apart.
2023
“Los Pajaritos,” (order) Magazine of F&SF, Nov/Dec 2023
The heart of a sparrow in flight. Eight hundred beats per minute. An explosion of feathers—coffee and caramel and dusty rose, like the earth itself took wing to flutter and flash. I smiled when you called the sparrow your spirit animal. Such a fragile creature. REVIEW: “And kudos to Sam W. Pisciotta for weaving a whole lot of memory, love and loyalty into such a short story. I was bowled over!” –Andrew Weston Read the full review by Weston HERE. Read the review on SFCrowsnest HERE.
“The Moonlight Eels,” (read) NewMyths.com, Dec 2023
Jenny faced the shadowed trees and bent an ear into the darkness, listening for Pepper’s bark, hoping her pup had holed up in some hollow. She yearned to find that dog, but Mama knew the dangers and held her back.
“How to Say Goodbye,” (read) James Gunn’s Ad Astra, November 2023
“Doctor Perez. Step back into the compound, please.” Two SecGuards motion me towards the perimeter fence. “We’re close to departure, ma’am.” I pause, almost willing to let rules and regulations save me from the pain of saying goodbye.
“The Somnambulant,” (listen/read) PodCastle, #805, September 2023
The moon sits plump within a windowpane as if plucked from the sky and framed for safekeeping. Bound by forces beyond our control, the moon and I share a yearning to pull free. I touch my finger on the icy glass and dream of leaving this place. Listen to the story on PodCastle.
“Morning Glory,” (subscribe) Asimov’s Science Fiction, July/August 2023
READ my interview with Asimov’s HERE.
People can die from a lot of things, but they don’t die from pill bugs. Perl understood this and knew the truth of it. But her fear wasn’t about dying. It was about their ashen, hard-crackle shells splitting beneath her feet; it was about their feathery legs whispering over her skin. Roly-polies made them sound cute, but they weren’t; they were goddamn creepy.
“Words for the Dead,” (order) Spirits and Ghouls Anthology, Sept. 2023
Q&A with Flametree Publishing.
Conall leaned the muskets against a birch and eased his son to the ground. By the time they had reached the boulder field, the moon had taken the sky, its light a pale echo of the sun. Too dark for Conall to check the wound, he reached down and snugged the bandage at his son’s leg.
“The Sky Above Io,” (read) Utopia Science Fiction, April-May 2023
Mother. Starship pilot. Paths I took and paths I didn’t. Most people don’t want to know what might have been. Regret is bearable when it remains vague, but to really see the person you might have become, to walk the path you’d given up—well, that’s scary as hell. All the same, I needed to know.
2022
“Disgruntled,” (read) MetaStellar, December 22, 2022
“Basically, your How-To articles are way too unpredictable. First, your advice killed my husband which, honestly, wasn’t entirely your fault. But then your suggestions resulted in the reanimation of his corpse, and that has led to major issues in our marriage! Okay. *deep breath* I probably need to start from the beginning.”
“Tight Lines,” (read) Factor Four Magazine, December 02, 2022
Fly fishing as a metaphor for first contact with an alien world. “The fly rolls back off the tip of the rod, wisping overhead.” The phrase used for the title, “tight lines,” is a salutation often passed between fishermen.
“Doves Fly in the Morning,” (subscribe) Analog, Nov/Dec 2022 — Read the reprint in Small Wonders here.
“Engineering near-light speed travel felt a hell of a lot easier than saying goodbye. Banjoko leaned deeper into the service port, worked his fingers along the plasma harness as he checked each power cluster. Schematics, circuitry, ship protocol—these he understood; they felt comfortable and safe.” Read Tangent Review Here. SFRevu Here.
“Piano Lessons in the Dark,” (read) Etherea Magazine, Sept. 28, 2022
“The absolute best song for chasing away monsters is Für Elise. They can’t run away fast enough. And the quicker I play, the faster they run. Of course, I’ve gotten good at playing it; my fingers snap over the piano keys—E, D#, E, D#, E, B, D, C, B.”
“Studies in Alchemy,” (order) Wyldblood Magazine, July 20, 2022
Sephtis reached into a flower box thick with dark-red geraniums and plucked a flower that shouldn’t have been there—a single, white chrysanthemum. He weaved through the tables of the open café along the Hudson where small groups of people chatted over their lunches.
“Blue Line on a Winter’s Night,” (read) Factor Four Magazine, July 2022
The only people riding the Blue Line on a night this cold are people trying to stay alive. I almost didn’t make it onto the train before the doors closed, and I doubt I could’ve lasted till the next one arrived. Two coats and a scarf—that shit means nothing in this weather.
“The Settlement at Quelon Bay,” (read) Martian, July 01, 2022
Dad gave his life to see me safe, to get me to this pod headed for the orbiter. Safe from the feathery brutality of the Kohl with their ripping talons and hollow eyes. They arrived after us and wanted it all.
“Island of Dolls,” (listen) Ghostlore Anthology, Part 2–Hauntings, April 01, 2022, The Alternative Stories Podcast, edited by Lyndsey Croal
Fog drifted off the dark waters around Xochimilco. Fantasma de la tierra, they would say. Ghost of the earth. Bent trees tangled across the island like charcoal smudges scratched into the land. It was said that lost souls lived in that wood, twisting the trunks and creaking the branches.
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