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Announcement: MCB Quarterly, Spring 2016

MCB Quarterly April 2016Mischief Corner Books has a new edition of the MCB Quarterly out, with two QSFers and a third author who designed the new QSF logo:

The Quarterly is an eMagazine of LGBTQ fiction – of all kinds. This volume features four short stories:

  • Finishing Touches by Rebecca Cohen
  • Repetition by J. Scott Coatsworth
  • Outpost by Dominick Domingo
  • The Wish Granter by L. Bellamy

It also includes an Interview with Brandilyn Carpenter talking about “What’s in a Review”, and a Featured Author section with Carole Cummings. And our very own Angel Martinez offers an Op-Ed on “Rehoming Lost Books.”


Excerpt – From Repitition

“Sure, it’s unorthodox. Past-pathing’s always a dicey proposition.” Davis twisted the phone cord between his fingers, frowning, thinking of all the contingencies involved. The background work alone would be extensive, but the challenge might make it worthwhile. “When can you come down? That’s right, 147 Alpine, corner of Main, just behind the Quickmart. Long gray building with a flat roof, military barracks conversion. Can’t miss it.”

Harlan’s framed image stared back at him as he talked, his handsome face a mockery of the present. Davis snorted and tossed the frame in the trash. Long past due.

“Oh, nothing, sir. Just a sneeze.” He spun around in the chair, fingers rambling over the key slate. “Tomorrow, ten sharp? I’ll need to do a preliminary scan, then feed the data through our AI server to find the best places to start. It’ll take me, what, maybe two days? Then we can talk.” He scratched behind his ear unconsciously, the ideas already spinning in his brain. He’d have to write some code tonight to weed out the worst of the dross from the first run in the morning. Then he’d see about narrowing down the resulting data set and cleaning up the main lines from there.

“Gotcha. What? Nothing… just yourself. Right-o. See you then.” Coupla days with no sleep. It was doable.

He sat back, rubbing his chin, staring out the window at the reflective glass windows of the soaring forty-story tenements. He’d never had a request quite so close to home. Why would someone want to go back into the closet?

It had been hard enough coming out in the first place back in the late nineties in conservative Arizona, when many folks still blamed AIDS on the sexual promiscuity, despite the hard scientific evidence to the contrary.

He sighed. The longer he lived, the more he realized things always came around again.

The real question was, could he do it? He glanced at the neat, hand-lettered sign he had hung above the desk:

You’re not God.
Never mess with your own past.
Remember, you’re not God.

He decided to take the case.


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