As the blossoming beauty of spring gives way to the passion of summer, romance abounds. Thoughts turn to outdoor weddings and warm nights under the stars—and speculative fiction writers are by no means immune!
So we’ve scoured through the hundreds of short stories that we’ve published here at MetaStellar since we launched in the summer of 2020 to bring you fantastic but all-too-real visions of love—from bright joy to dark despair.
Corvid King Seeks Perfect Wife by Sharmon Gazaway
Memory is the scar that keeps Dreama from becoming fully and completely mine.
I bring her every delight: ravels of tangled twine, curiously bent twigs laced with aqua lichen to add to our bower, the liquor from a snail’s shell, the pink, still-warm hatchling robbed from an owl’s lair, brass buttons. I do not bring her mother of pearl buttons. They make her weep.
She grows sadder, yet lovelier by the day…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 5 minutes.)
A Taste of Online Dating by MM Schreier
Men’s desires are tiresome.
I consider canceling, but my stomach growls. Hunger wins.
When I pull into the lot at the seaside restaurant, I suspect he’s nearby, watching, and so I make a production of getting out of the car. Legs first, stretched to full length. Standing, I twirl my wrap, and with a graceful spin end up leaning against the car. I run fingers through my hair, angled into the sun so chestnut, wind-tousled curls gleam. It’s a circus act and I am a master performer…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 3 minutes.)
For Love, I Tear by Zach Shephard
When I tore the first layer from Zolan’s body, I found a different person beneath.
On the outside, he was a charcoal-skinned, sharp-jointed creature, with eyes like captured fireflies. Ever the charmer, he insisted I was the most beautiful woman in all the land: my smile, he said, shone brighter than the tumbling prisms of Baraxia’s Crystal Falls.
That was outer-Zolan. The man inside was something else…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 4 minutes.)
Eight Legs Under Moonlight by Lex Chamberlin
She stumbled in through a dense morning fog at the edge of my family’s property, wearing tattered maroon rags and a haggard look of utmost distress. Her black hair hung limp around her over-thin face, beautiful slate eyes bulging in the cold. She looked about my age, mid-twenties, and alone—a spinster, it seemed, like me. I took her in at once.
It was obvious what she must have been through. The moon had left the sky, but the night before had shown it full and bright in the stars, a beacon marking the continuation of our war on the arachnid plague…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 12 minutes.)
The Last Thing Taken by Claudia Wair
Sophia’s shift at the casino ended just before sunset. She showered and changed out of her uniform in the staff locker room and pulled her locs up into a high ponytail. Normally she’d put on a little makeup, but these days, her light brown skin presented a perpetual glow; no need for cosmetics.
She walked back to her tiny apartment on Morris. Her Atlantic City street was too unimpressive to be on the Monopoly board, and too far away from the Bay side for her to see the sun dip below the horizon. But she knew it had.
Three blocks. Two blocks. One. Sophia put the key in the lock of her apartment and paused, hopeful, before opening the door…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 9 minutes.)
Magic Makes Fools of Us All by Andrea Goyan
Our family seeks run-down campgrounds, the kind where there’s more piss on the bathroom floors than in the filthy toilets. Where only cold water runs from the taps, and once or twice a week, local sheriffs break up drunken brawls. Places with apathetic park rangers who never record license plates, so if a carload of campers disappears into the night, there isn’t a paper trail.
Fresh air. Open spaces. Abundant, nameless campers.
Yum…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 4 minutes.)
Behind the Standing Stones by Melody Friedenthal
The granite stelai were eight feet tall, with mottled gray surfaces and jagged edges. But Craig was less interested in their geometry than in their metaphysical location, their agency as delimiters between this world and some mystical other. His heart raced and he took a step back.
He half-turned towards Hailey, who was laying out a picnic lunch on the blanket that had been purpose-bought for this outing. The shop had wares in a hundred different tartans, or so it seemed, so Craig had chosen one affiliated with the clan of his distant ancestors. It looked cozy in this sunlit glade…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 4 minutes.)
Reflection by Addison Smith
I find your heart on Europa, and for a moment it is mine. It’s not your real heart. It’s only a fragment of your mind imprinted on light, buried deep beneath the ice. In this fragment, you stand with sand at your feet, the ocean behind you, and I’m there at your side. Night falls, and the sand cools beneath us, and we speak of stars and futures and a lifetime together. I see the memory, and know I have found you, even if the world gave up the search a century ago. For me it’s been months. But you run on your own schedule, not always considering when I might need you most. I leave the moon behind and start a new life…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 3 minutes.)
Glass Slipper Magic by Andrew Dunn
Snow outside sparkled like a thousand diamonds in a royal vault. William didn’t feel its warmth. Instead, he wielded a poker to stoke dying embers until they glowed bright and hot enough to send fresh logs smoldering. A simple task, but it warmed William’s spirits—as a young man he’d relied on servants for such chores. The weight of cold iron in his hands was welcoming, a reminder of swords he’d forfeited long ago for her.
She’d stolen his heart the night she strode into the last ball he held as the crown’s heir. Merger of his life with its palaces, and hers as a scullery lass, sent stinging words ricocheting in his father’s marble chambers, and stirred a turbulent mood among peasants straining against the king’s yoke. William wasn’t about to let his father, the king, tell him who to marry…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 3 minutes.)
The Spinning Circle by Sarah Jackson
All that the men could see from the village was an orange glow under the fringe of blue pines. They could hear nothing but peaked laughter and snatches of song, which spiraled like smoke under the frozen stars. That was the point. That was why the women carried their baskets of fleece, long wooden distaffs, knitting needles, and spinning wheels (those that had them) out to the shack one night each week through the winter.
It was hardly a shack, in truth. A tent of logs with walls of woven hazel branches, covered with dried dung and straw. A bare earth floor, a few rough benches, and the fire in the centre. The doorway was left open, facing the village. So they could keep an eye on the men, they said…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 8 minutes.)
Club Fiends by Paul Alex Gray
The tube shudders and shrieks as it pulls into Camden. Ondine watches the flickering panels of color reverse-fade into the familiar ads and posters lining the platform.
She checks her texts, seeing if Jamie might have replied as the reception kicks in again. A new one beeps in.
Gotta work tonight, promise it’s the last weekend. Xxx…
Read the full story here. (Reading Time: 20 minutes.)
Under the Mistletoe by Keech Ballard
A woman walks into a bar. She sits down, adjusts her little black dress, and orders a mistletoe margarita.
A man at the end of the bar raises his neat tumbler, filled to the brim with translucent single malt. He confesses that he spent much of his youth in Japanese internment camps and runs through a list of recent troop movements in various parts of the adjoining territories…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 3 minutes.)
Giselle and Mr. Goebbels by Steve Bailey
Mr. Goebbels sits on a shelf in the kitchen of Roger’s apartment. It is a virtual digital assistant that displays pictures, answers questions, reports the news, and plays music. Roger gave it the nickname.
Whenever Mr. Goebbels shows pictures of his wife Diane just before cancer killed her, with her gaunt face and bald head, grief grabs Roger and holds him for a few minutes. But there is an image of Diane that makes him happy when it appears. It is an old black and white photo from their college days, her thick curly hair poking out all over from a bandanna, her clenched fist in the air…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 3 minutes.)
Virtually Yours by Nina Munteanu
Vincent yanked the V-set off his head and found himself back in his apartment, lying alone and spent on his king-size bed. The cozy cabin with the fireplace had vanished. Katherine was gone. He stared at the V-set. His vehicle to paradise. To Katherine.
The lilac scent of her lingered in his mind as he summoned her beautiful face, smiling just for him. No, he reminded himself. Not for me. For Jake, my carrier. It was Jake she smiled at. Jake she had just made love to. Jake, who smelled her desire, felt the tender stroke of her slender legs. Vincent was just along for the ride…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 12 minutes.)
Heartsick by Audri Salinas
He might has well have shot me, sending that note. Or at least that’s how my health sensors reacted, blaring up at once like an unholy chorus. Cortisol alerts, stress infractions, the beeping alarm of my heart rate rising without the expected stimulus of exercise.
“God damnit, Shen,” I muttered, silencing the alarms but unable to turn off the insistent buzz on my wrist. With his letter crumpled in one hand, I flicked a look down at the screen of my BioMonitor.
UHD Alert – Ms. Numa Faraq, you appear to be suffering from sudden-onset distress. Please provide urine and saliva immediately…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 17 minutes.)
The Umbrellas We Brought to the Future by Carol Scheina
Umbrella #1: Tomato-red with wooden handle
The first time Amar invites me to time-hop into the future with him, he holds a dusty umbrella rescued from some dark corner of our closet. Out of the blue, after 30-some years working as a time hopper, he wants to take me along.
“Isn’t that against company regulations?”
“I’ll be our little secret.” Amar still has the eyes of a 12-year-old, sparkling pools urging me to jump in. I’ve never been able to resist…
Read the full story here. (Reading time: 4 minutes.)
Benji Blackwell is freelance editor and owner of Elves & Ellipses, where he provides copyediting and proofreading services for authors of Christian, YA, and speculative fiction novels and short stories. He also blogs about writing and self-publishing matters—with a touch of what he calls humor and an English teacher’s brain he can’t get rid of.