Year's Best Fantasy and Horror, R.I.P. I grew up on this series. Each year I bought the new collection, scoured used book stores for past years; I discovered writers through them—they were the reprint market to which all short stories and poems aspired. They were a field guide as well as a gathering of flowers. And I am not, not pleased to see them go.
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Active Entries
- 1: My life's a crooked mess of things I've broken with my head
- 2: A second flood, a simple famine, plagues of locusts everywhere
- 3: So Krishna stole the butter, did he?
- 4: When I invited Frank and you back to mine for a mange tout when I meant ménage à trois
- 5: The shadows on the walls don't recognize me anymore
- 6: Well, you can't tell much from faces
- 7: This po-mo stuff is nice, but it's irrelevant to the way I feel right now
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