Posts Tagged "Eugie Foster"

Trixie and the Pandas of Dread

by on Jan 1, 2013 in Short Fiction | 17 comments

by Eugie Foster Trixie got out of her cherry-red godmobile and waved away the flitting cherubim waiting to bear her to her sedan chair. She wasn’t in the mood for a reverent chorus of hosannas, and the sedan chair desperately needed re-springing. She felt every jostle and jounce from those damned pandas. A day didn’t pass that she didn’t regret adopting giant pandas as her sacred vahanas. Sure, it seemed like a good idea at the time. They were so cute with their roly-poly bellies and black-masked faces, but they were wholly unsuited to be beasts of conveyance. The excessive undulation of their waddling gaits was enough to make Captain Ahab seasick, and their exclusive...

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An Interview with Eugie Foster

by on Jan 1, 2013 in Interviews, Nonfiction | 0 comments

By day, a hard-working legislative editor, and by night a fiction maven, Eugie Foster is the Nebula award-winning author of “Sinner, Baker, Fabulist, Priest; Red Mask, Black Mask, Gentleman, Beast.” Her fiction has appeared in a wide range of magazines, from here with us at Apex Magazine to Realms of Fantasy, Drabblecast, Cicada, Intergalactic Medicine Show, Interzone, and many more. This issue of Apex Magazine features her fabulous tale of vengeance, karma, and a little bamboo, “Trixie and the Pandas of Dread.” To learn more about Ms. Foster and her upcoming projects, visit her website at eugiefoster.com. About “Trixie and the Pandas of Dread”: APEX MAGAZINE: “Trixie...

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Biba Jibun

by on Apr 18, 2011 in Short Fiction | 0 comments

by Eugie Foster Every night as I sleep on my futon, I dream that I’m a rabbit, running on a river of moonlight. My fur is white, my legs strong and swift, and I’m going to see Mama. Papa said that Mama left because she was one of the obake, the spirit folk. She tricked him into marrying her when he was a rich man and could buy her French perfume and trinkets from Cartier’s. But then Papa’s company got bought by a Western interest which wasn’t of a mind to buy Papa along with it. When next the full moon beckoned, Mama turned into a silver rabbit scented with Envy by Gucci, a platinum Bulgari watch around her throat, and flew out into the...

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Sinner, Baker, Fabulist, Priest; Red Mask, Black Mask, Gentleman, Beast

by on Aug 3, 2009 in Short Fiction | 0 comments

By Eugie Foster Each morning is a decision. Should I put on the brown mask or the blue? Should I be a tradesman or an assassin today? Whatever the queen demands, of course, I am. But so often she ignores me, and I am left to figure out for myself who to be. Dozens upon dozens of faces to choose from. 1. Marigold is for murder. The yellow mask draws me, the one made from the pelt of a mute animal with neither fangs nor claws—better for the workers to collect its skin. It can only glare at its keepers through the wires of its cage, and when the knives cut and the harvesters rip away its skin, no one is troubled by its screams. I tie the tawny ribbons under my chin. The...

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