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New Release: Alternative Holidays Anthology

Alternative Holidays anthology

QSFer Alicia Hilton has a new queer fantasy short in the new anthology Alternative Holidays.

Alternative Holidays is an anthology that takes a dark—and sometimes humorous—look at many of our favorite holidays. You’ll be transported from the bottom of the sea to Mount Olympus, from shopping malls in hell to a bathtub in a cheap motel. Cthulhu awakens. Cupid becomes a vigilante. Santa grants deadly wishes. And that’s just the beginning of your journey into alternative visions of the holidays we know, love, and sometimes fear.

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Cupid’s Confession
by Alicia Hilton

A nude sphinx knelt in front of my throne. Yellow sapphires set in gold dangled from her pierced nipples, jingling. “May I offer you refreshment? A massage?” She leaned closer.
Her purr promised sensual delights, but I said, “Not today, darling.”

Being the God of Passionate Desire sounded like a scintillating, sexy occupation, but after engaging in hedonistic exploits for millennia, I sought a higher purpose. Of course, Cupid couldn’t abdicate his erotic duties, but if my plan worked, more young mortals would grow up to become lovable adults.

I strode across the gilded chamber and cleared my throat when I reached Jupiter’s throne.
My father was mediating a dispute between a dragon and a cyclops with a broken arm. 

“She attacked me!” the one-eyed giant said.

Steam shot from the dragon’s nostrils. “Trespasser,” she hissed.

Jupiter pointed at the giant. “Cyclops, you violated Olympian Edict #33. No monster shall enter another’s abode without an invitation.” My father flicked his wrist, and lightning shot from his fingertips. The electrostatic charge enveloped the cyclops.

The giant battered her fists against the force field. 

Pulsating light lifted her off the floor. Her body spun as it levitated higher and higher, rising more than fifty feet to the domed ceiling.

Jupiter turned towards me. “I can’t persuade you to stay?” He grasped my shoulder. His hand was as heavy as an anvil.

I tried not to flinch, but my knees wobbled. “I’ll return for Vinalia,” I said. My father was particularly fond of the festival that celebrated the grape harvest.

He squeezed my shoulder tighter. “Do not make me regret trusting you.”


Shopping mall photo booth attendants were paid $15 per hour, crappy compensation for the one and only Cupid, but working at Cupid’s Photo Booth was an ideal vantage point for conducting surveillance as a winged crusader.

February 8th, my first customer was a voluptuous brunette wearing scarlet thigh-high stockings and a mini dress. When she climbed on the fake swan for her photos, her skirt rode up, flashing thong panties. 

Her smile was salacious. “Want to ride with me?” she said.
No other customers had arrived, but from the scent of her pheromones, she was ovulating. 

I fluttered my wings. “Not today, sweetheart.,” I said.

Olympian Edict #23: Cupid Shall Not Sire Demigods


February 9th, I’ll never forget the twin boys who wore matching tracksuits and glittery silver sneakers. The brats whacked my swan with their skateboards, busting the beak. Since there were no witnesses, I shot them with my magic arrows and turned them into squeaking mice. Not permanently—they’ll become boys again in seven hours.

Olympian Edict #17: Cupid Shall Not Harm Children


February 10th, I’d never seen a child more terrified of a plastic swan, and my bow and arrows made him scream. When I gave the little darling a chocolate heart, he stopped wailing. Mummy was so grateful; she bought the deluxe photo package and asked me if I wanted to babysit.

Our rendezvous was unexpectedly pleasant. Mummy and little Jimmy lived in a posh apartment on Nob Hill. The fridge was loaded with tasty snacks, but I only devoured one pint of cherry sorbet while Jimmy played video games.

Mummy was despondent when she returned from her blind date because the bloke was a rude dolt. After I comforted her, she gave me a kiss and invited me to her bedroom. I figured she’d be a freak in the sack because she was into cosplay, but when she realized that my wings didn’t come off, wow, what a ride! 

After we rutted, I wiped her memory, so she’d believe that she’d banged an ordinary guy she’d met in a bar.

I said, “Goodbye,” to her adorable tyke, patted his head, and erased his recollection of me. 

Olympian Edict #2: Cupid Shall Not Reveal That He Is A God


February 11th, trolling the mall on my lunch break, I spied two nymphets arguing outside the lingerie shop.

“Skank!” the filly who wore a crop top and daisy dukes said. She punched the lass who wore a sundress and combat boots.

Blood gushed from her nose. She nailed her attacker with a swift kick to the knee. 

Another punch from the instigator, and they were rolling on the floor. Hair pulling.


Their screams drew a crowd.

I rubbed my hands together and said, “Let there be love.”

Suddenly, the catfight stopped. 

The girl with the bloody nose kissed her enemy. 

Instead of giving her another slug, the filly who’d started the fight deepened the kiss and caressed her tit. 

A gawker with a buzz cut was filming with his cellphone. I put my hand over the camera lens and said, “Don’t be a perv.”

He shoved me. Hard.

My back smacked against the shop front, making the glass shake. 

The galoot was stocky and three inches taller than me. If I’d been an ordinary mortal, the blow would’ve left a bruise.

“Fight!” a teenage boy said.

Heads swiveled as the crowd’s attention was diverted from the girls who were still making out.

I rubbed my hands together.

The big galoot yelped and pissed his pants.

Sweet revenge.

Olympian Edict #27: Cupid Is Permitted To Use Appropriate Force In Self-Defense


February 12th was a special day, the sixty-sixth time I had a car date with a man. His breath tasted like cinnamon. He said he would be gentle, but we both got carried away. His boxers matched his socks—red with white stripes.


While I was zipping my pants, he offered to buy me dinner. A real gentleman.

“I’d love to, but I have an audition,” I lied.

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “At 9:30 at night?”

I smiled. “It’s a beer commercial.”

Olympian Edict #49: Cupid Shall Not Dine With Mortals

Author Bio

Alicia Hilton believes in angels and demons, magic, and monsters. Her work has appeared in Akashic Books, Best Asian Speculative Fiction, Daily Science Fiction, Vastarien, Year’s Best Hardcore Horror Volumes 4, 5 & 6, and elsewhere. She is a member of the Horror Writers Association, the Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association, and the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Association. Her website is Follow her on Twitter @aliciahilton01.

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