Monday, November 28, 2016

Book Release: Scout's Law, by Henry Vogel

After two thousand years of isolation, the lost colony world of Aashla has reestablished contact with the rest of galactic civilization. Princess Callan of Mordan, and her royal consort, Terran Scout David Rice, were the people who made that happen. Now, they lead the mission to ensure that Aashla's unique culture is not overwhelmed by the galaxy-spanning Terran Federation.

But on a routine inspection tour of Federation scientific outposts, Callan and David are horrified to find an abandoned camp and a shallow mass grave. When an unnatural storm knocks their airship out of the sky, they're forced to confront their worst nightmare.

Someone has smuggled forbidden galactic technology onto Aashla—and whoever they are, their trail of murder and destruction has only just begun...

Scout's Law: Available now in trade paperback and for Amazon Kindle.

Book Release: THE SCOUT TRILOGY, by Henry Vogel

Return to a future... 

Of bold galactic explorers and lost space colonies, where beautiful heroines and brave heroes battle treacherous villains with swords and airships!

Return to a future... 

Of planetary romance and high adventure, where action moves at the speed of light and danger lurks around every corner!

Return to the future... of The Scout Trilogy

Here, for the first time in one volume, are the adventures of David Rice, Terran Scout First Class, who crash-landed on the lost world of Aashla, rescued and befriended Princess Callan, heir to the throne of Mordan, and found himself thrown from the space age to the steam age in the blink of an eye.

Now, marooned without hope of rescue on a world of primitive airships, treacherous pirates, bloodthirsty monsters, and royal court intrigues, David struggles to learn the ways of his adopted home-world, at the same time as he struggles with his growing feelings for Callan, and his iron determination to change just one thing: Aashla will not remain lost!

Told in a relentlessly fast-paced style, The Scout Trilogy is an exciting modern homage to the classic tales of planetary romance made famous by writers such as Edgar Rice Burroughs and Leigh Brackett. If you like your heroes unabashedly heroic, your heroines feisty and true, and your plots filled with dangers, twists, and turns, you'll love The Scout Trilogy.

Available now for Amazon Kindle.

Friday, August 12, 2016

“The Real Reason Mrs. Sprague Came by Her House So Cheaply” • by Karin Terebessy

Mrs. Sprague paused in front of the china cabinet when she heard a thunk.

“What was that?” she called into the parlor. “Boys?”

“Nothing, Mrs. Sprague,” they sang back in unison.

Mrs. Sprague let out a tense breath and headed toward the noise when a knock on the kitchen door forced her to pivot on her heels.

She opened the door a crack. “Yes?”

On the doorstep, a white-haired man in a three-piece suit ballooned up his chest. “I come from the past,” he proclaimed.

“Who doesn’t?” Mrs. Sprague snipped, and started to close the door.

“But I’ve just traveled through time,” he said quickly.

Mrs. Sprague shrugged. “Me too. I’m doing it right now. And now. And now. Good day—”

“Wait,” he said, grabbing hold of the door frame. “Do you know who I am?”

Mrs. Sprague nodded. “You’re Thomas Edison.”

Edison thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “You know you’ve got a vortex through time in your back yard?”

“Yes.” She threw an impatient glance toward the parlor at the sound of another thud. “Now if there’s nothing more I can do for you Mr. Edison, I have company…”

“A party, huh?”

“Hmm,” she answered vaguely.

He tried to peer over her head. “Afternoon tea? I sure could go for a bite,” he mused, rubbing his stomach.

“Yes, well, maybe some other time…”

Edison’s shoulders drooped. “Ah c’mon. Lemme in.”

“I can’t,” she said, feeling a bit badly. “Tehlasintha,” she mumbled.

“Come again?”

Mrs. Sprague straightened. “I said, ‘Tesla’s in there.’”

Edison went red in the face. “Why that—” He lunged for the door as Mrs. Sprague tried to shove it closed, trapping his arms and one leg on the kitchen side, where he thrashed them about like well-dressed worms.

She was in the midst of kicking his foot and swatting his arms when Einstein wandered in, regarded the scene, and proceeded to moon about as if nothing were amiss.

“For Heaven’s sake, Albert! Make yourself useful!”

Einstein blinked. “Shall I put the kettle on?”

A crash came from the other room, followed by a roar of laughter. This distracted Edison for a moment, and Mrs. Sprague slammed the door shut and locked it.

Einstein plucked at his trousers. “I don’t know where your kettle is, Mrs. Sprague.”

She shooed him away and hurried to the parlor, just in time to catch the lamp Ptolemy knocked over.

He had Copernicus in a headlock. “Not so tough without your boy Kepler here to back you up, are you?”

Copernicus responded with a rebellious gurgle.

“Admit my system works just as accurately as yours does to the naked eye!”

Ben Franklin perked up. “Naked?”

Mrs. Sprague tried to wedge the astronomers apart but lost her balance and stumbled backward into the bay window wall, which had been completely graffitied with squiggles, lines, arrows, and right angles.

“Who did THAT?” She sputtered.

“Don’t look at me,” Franklin said. “It was Feynman.”

Mrs. Sprague whipped around. Richard Feynman twiddled his thumbs and stared at the ceiling. Then began to whistle.

Ptolemy and Copernicus crashed into an end table, ricocheted off the couch, landed on the floor, and resumed wrestling, Copernicus cowering beneath a hail of noogies.

“For heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Sprague screeched, “Why can’t you boys be more like your friend Godel!”

Feynman pointed into the corner of the room. “He’s been hiding behind that bookcase for three-quarters of an hour!”

Godel started when all eyes turned on him. “You don’t see me,” he declared, as he waved his hands like a magician, flattened himself to the wall, then tried not to move.

A clod of soil came flying at the bay window.

Edison had circled round and stood menacingly in the backyard, palming another handful of dirt.

“You tell that charlatan to get out here!”

Tesla ran to the window, just as Edison threw the second dirt clod. It fell to the ground, ten feet short of the house.

“Your aim’s as weak as your current!” Tesla yelled.

“My current’s just as good as yours!”

“Your lamps are lame and inefficient!”

“Don’t you cast aspersions on my lamphood!”

Franklin took bets. Feynman sided with Tesla. Godel pretended to be invisible. And Pascal considered the options. “Put me down for both.”

“You can’t wager on both of them, Pascal!”

“Pretty sure I can,” Pascal said, utterly nonplussed.

Mrs. Sprague rapped her knuckles on the window. “You cut that out right now, Thomas!”

Edison dropped his dirt clod and hung his head.

She whipped around to Feynman. “And you! Get the cleanser from under the sink and start on that wall.”

Feynman scuffed his toe into the carpet. “Yes, Mrs. Sprague,” he moaned.

“Say Tycho Brahe!” Ptolemy growled.

“Tycho Brahe,” Copernicus croaked.

“Tycho Brahe? I got that from a hooker once in Paris…” Franklin mused

“No more potty mouth, Ben, I mean it!”

Einstein blinked stupidly. “Was I supposed to be getting the tea?”

Mrs. Sprague pinched the bridge of her nose. “I never had this problem when Marie Curie and Jocelyn Bell were here,” she muttered.

Franklin perked up. “Ladies?”

Mrs. Sprague threatened him with a look and trudged to the kitchen. She let out a cry when Edison’s head popped up in the window.

“Schrödinger’s out back,” he said.

“Is he really?”


She yanked the curtains shut.

Pascal peeked his head in the kitchen. “Ben’s trying to get Albert to drop an A-bomb.”

Mrs. Sprague massaged her temples.“The mushroom cloud kind or the dirty word kind?”

Pascal hesitated. “Both…?”

Mrs. Sprague smoothed back her hair and took a steadying breath. She reminded herself that every healthy scientist is a blessing. That there were some people who had no scientists at all. Then she headed toward the parlor, wondering vaguely when (or if) Schrödinger would appear. Nursing a strong suspicion he’d be swinging a dead cat. Like Huckleberry Finn.



Karin Terebessy is a yoga teacher and mother who writes when time allows. Her most recent science fiction can be found in Stupefying Stories, Daily Science Fiction, and also in a big pile next to her desk.

Her most recent appearance in our pages was “Mood Skin” last April, and her next will be “The Memory of Worms,” in October.


Friday, August 5, 2016

Book Release: THE FUGITIVE PAIR, by Henry Vogel

Matt Connaught wants nothing more than to enjoy life with his new wife, Michelle, and to catch up on lost time with his parents, who were held captive for seven years. As a member of one of the wealthiest families in the Terran Federation, this should be easy.

It's not.

Because Matt is psychic. If anyone outside of his family discovers his secret, he'll be taken from his family and forced to serve in Psi Corps. When Federation agents come looking for him, Matt and Michelle have only one choice—to go on the run.

But how can they hope to escape from Psi Corps, when the Corps has the full might of the Terran Federation behind it?

by Henry Vogel
Book 2 in the Matt & Michelle adventures

Available now in paperback, Kindle ebook, and Audio book editions!

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AUDIO BOOK now available on Amazon,, and the Apple iTunes store!

Book Release: STUPEFYING STORIES 1.15 (August 2016)

Stupefying Stories emerges from long-term cryosleep with a great new lineup of science fiction, fantasy, political comedy and horror! (There is a difference between those last two. Trust us.) Featuring:

• MAKING MONSTERS, by Sarah Read
• PLEASE PASS THE PURVIEW, by Conor Powers-Smith
• URSA MAJOR, by Lynne M. MacLean
• THE BOO HAG, by David Bowles
• ANTIMIRUS, by Mike Reeves-McMillan

Always fun and exciting, never predictable, Stupefying Stories is the terrific new reading you've been looking for!

Now available for Kindle and Kindle Reader apps at these links! Free for Kindle Unlimited subscribers!

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Book Release: THE COUNTERFEIT CAPTAIN (Audio Book)

Just released on Amazon,, and in the Apple iTunes store!

by Henry Vogel
(Unabridged audio book  edition)

Narrated by Heidi Cox, best known for her work both in front of and behind the camera in the hit web series, Stalking LeVar, The Counterfeit Captain is nearly six hours of exciting old-school space opera at its finest. Listen to it now on:

Apple iTunes

Tuesday, May 3, 2016

This morning on SHOWCASE

I sat on a bench on one side of the small, battleship-gray drop bay of my patrol cutter, Oliveria. The last month and a half of the patrol had been mind-numbing, but taking a ship of wasters into custody would soon make it all worthwhile. the rest...

Sunday, May 1, 2016

Book Release: THE COUNTERFEIT CAPTAIN, by Henry Vogel

Captain Nancy Martin expects a lonely death.

Passing out as her battle-damaged starfighter bleeds the last of its air, she comes to in the cavernous and deserted docking bay of an unknown starship. Leaving her crippled fighter to seek help, she finds she’s been been scooped up by a gigantic generation ship inhabited by the descendants of the original crew and passengers—people whose entire universe is the ship!

Mistaken for the vast ship’s long-lost and near-mythical Captain, Nancy is welcomed as a savior and believes she’s found the allies she needs in her desperate fight for survival. But an even greater menace lurks in the shadows of the ship—one that controls every inch of the ship and every life aboard it—one that will stop at nothing to destroy—

The Counterfeit Captain.

Set in the same universe as Vogel’s best-selling novel, The Fugitive Heir, The Counterfeit Captain further expands the stage for Vogel’s exciting brand of star-spanning science fiction adventure!

Available now for Amazon Kindle and Kindle Reader apps! Print and audio book editions coming soon! Free for Kindle Unlimited subscribers!


Friday, April 22, 2016

This morning on SHOWCASE

Thursday, April 21, 2016

“Mood Skin” • by Karin Terebessy


Colin had a white birthmark on his blonde hair and one on his blonde lashes. Blindingly white and full of bones, he looked more like a towering birch than a teenage boy.

“You want to know how white I am?” He whispered over the book stacks.

Ari glanced at the librarian, then followed Colin’s eyes under the table. He pulled up his pant leg, exposing a white shin, with white hairs like lice, and a constellation of chalk white vitiligo. Ivory freckles criss-crossed his pale lips.“Your turn.”

Ari flushed early Spring green. A rising tide of orange flowed across her thighs.


Drug companies marketed Neuro-Dermo Spectral Emotive Response as a breakthrough in effective parenting. Administered while still in utero, babies emerged expressing their feelings in a brilliant hue of colors. Red for angry, green for lonely, blue for sad. Parents could meet the emotional needs of their children. Better still, label the emotional needs of their children. Equip their children with emotional self-awareness years ahead of what was previously possible.

“This could drastically reduce the number of kids on the autism spectrum, cut back on bullying, launch the next generation into a compassionate phase of humanity!” The doctor preached to Ari’s mother.

“Mood skin,” she echoed, and held out her arm.


In the Nurse’s office, Ari cradled a wet compress against her swollen cheek. Colin stumbled in. Dark red blood dripped from his nose down his snow white chin. He winked at Ari. “Like a virgin on her wedding night.”

Ari blushed hot pink. The bruise on her face crackled blowtorch green.


With guidance, the irrational impulses of early childhood make way for more rational thinking. In this way, mood skin would fade as children developed more sophisticated verbal and social abilities. By age seven, it was guaranteed to disappear entirely.

Rare side effects, such as a progressive loss of pigmentation, mainly vitiligo, were seen in a negligible percentage of clinical trials.

In an even rarer side effect, some children did not outgrow their mood skin at all.


Colin tormented every lab partner until the chem teacher had no choice but to re-partner him with the last available student, Ari.

“Took him long enough,” he sniffed. “Don’t you ever talk?”

Thin blue clouds rose up her neck and painted her jaw.

Colin stretched his bone-white fingers out on the black resin table top. “I suppose if my skin said as much as yours, I might shut up from time to time. But not likely,” he added with a grin.

Sunlight shone through the side of Ari’s eyes, refracting streaks of color onto Colin’s fingers.


Already born with decreased melanin synthesis, Colin was shackled with the next phase of the mood skin side effect, vitiligo. This progressively covered his body, sucking up drops of pigmentation from his skin, leaving behind patches of white. Like splatters of bleach on milky white linen.


In study hall, Colin watched Ari across the table. His pale blue eyes, the only color left to his face. “You’re like a kaleidoscope. All the pieces are the same, but every time I turn around, you look different.”

Bright purple bloomed on the bridge of Ari’s nose, and flowered out over her face toward her ears and hairline, dissipating like ripples in a pond.

Colin snorted in surprise. Ari smiled and dropped her gaze.


As Ari aged, and her emotions grew more complex, so did their expression through her skin.
When kids screamed taunts, she turned pumpkin orange. When they scratched, bit and pinched, she cried streaky green tears.

The day they broke her nose, she bled a rainbow.


Colin rolled out of detention and found Ari by the lockers. “Hey, check it out, I can change colors too,” he said, pointing to a fresh black eye.

Brick red lines dragged down her cheeks.

“I put the other kid in the infirmary,” he dismissed, “don’t worry.”

Her skin glowed pale pink with golden sprinkles.

Colin lifted his skeleton-white fingers to her face, awkwardly tucking a tuft of hair behind her ear, and grinned. “We look like a before and after picture of an Easter egg.”

Her eyelids flushed deep magenta-red.


Ari’s mother sent her to behavioral conditioning. EMDR trauma treatment. Electroshock. Subjected her to sensory deprivation chambers. Hormone therapy. An array of medications. Nothing stemmed the tide of her adolescent mood swings. Or the tandem spectacle on her skin.

By fifteen, Ari’s mother sent her away to a high school for troubled teens. The money from the lawsuit paid tuition in full.


Colin walked Ari to trig. Sickly green blotches covered her face. “What? Do we have a test today or something?” Light yellow sparkled from the upturned corners of her mouth. Colin pursed his lips. “Damn it…”


The first reported death came from a town outside of Duluth, Minnesota. Some eighteen-year-old girl in a grocery store slipped into an epileptic seizure. Spasmed in a light show of color and died before the ambulance even arrived.

A few days later, a twenty-year-old boy on a double-date suddenly bloated blue and white as a corpse and suffered a fatal stroke.

Then a sixteen-year-old in Connecticut erupted in boils. Oozed colorful pus like puddles of gas and died from staph shortly thereafter.


During Assembly, Colin batted a boy’s head about until he finally vacated the chair next to Ari.

Ari glared at Colin. Dark charcoal sank down her forehead, plunging her eyes into sharp shiny blackness.

“Maybe you should get meaner,” Colin said defensively, “After all, it’s not the angry albinos who are dying.”

Ari blanched as white as Colin. An atomic fallout of white ash.

“That was a stupid thing for me to say. Hey,” he said, jiggling her elbow, “hey, don’t be like that.”


Anti-psychotic medications, guaranteed to dull the senses, flooded the market. Homeopathic remedies, colorful as candy, filled the pharmacy shelves. Yoga ashrams, meditation retreats, and Zen training centers, promising to calm the maelstrom of emotions, wait-listed folks well into next year.

Then a Swedish research team developed a risky new procedure to remove the amygdala portion of the temporal lobe. Recipients became indifferent to affection. And danger. Lost their ability to determine whether they liked or disliked a person they’d known forever. But they lived.

Mood skin babies flocked to Stockholm by the plane load.


In the high school cafeteria, Ari choked on a grape. She turned bright red, then purple. Colin leaped over the table, swung behind her and thrust his fists into her abdomen.

The grape ejected. Her body went slack. And Colin felt her back shake with silent sobbing. No one else seemed to notice.

He tightened his arms around her and pressed his face into her neck.


Ari’s mother sent her links to articles, pamphlets, testimonials, all espousing the benefits of the operation.

“A lobotomy,” Colin said flatly. “You really want them fixing you? Again?”

Indigo blue lines appeared along Ari’s lashes. Etched inky designs between her eyes and decorated her questioning brow.

“You look like an old scroll,” Colin said quietly.

His white fingers trembled as he brought them up to her face, tracing the flowery dark swirls. “Like the Declaration of Independence.”

A light projector spun through her eyes.

When Colin kissed her, his lips felt amber warm.


Memory of the kiss murmured through Ari’s bones. The heat inside Colin’s mouth. His long fingers around her skull.

Halfway to her room, her knees buckled.

Swelling with light, color rose to her pelvis. Pooled in her hips. Surged up her spine. Blinded her with sequins and glitter. Pressure built in her brain and burst through the crown of her head.

For one brief moment, she was a circus canon exploding with rainbow confetti.

Then her empty skin fell to the floor.


After the janitor swept up the hall, and all the kids assembled in the auditorium to hear the news, Colin broke into the custodian’s closet. He ransacked the trash bins and gathered armfuls of confetti, stuffing every last scrap into a white pillow case.

He buried his face against the pillow and wept, until the color from her body bled into his.


When Colin relived their kiss, he remembered pressing his nose to her cheek and squeezing his eyes tight. “For once, I’d just like to live on my own terms. Even if it means dying. Wouldn’t you?”

She brought her lips to his ear, and for the first time in her life, whispered:




Karin Terebessy is a yoga teacher and mother who writes when time allows. Her most recent science fiction can be found in Stupefying Stories, Daily Science Fiction, and also in a big pile next to her desk.

Illustration: Reproduction of Vincent Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” as body painting by Danny Setiawan, (c) Dnystwn at en.wikipedia. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

This morning on SHOWCASE

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

This morning on SHOWCASE

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

This morning on SHOWCASE

Friday, April 1, 2016

Stupefying Stories is currently closed to unsolicited submissions

After a great deal of debate, we have decided NOT to reopen to unsolicited submissions at this time. We underpublished in 2015, which means we're overstocked right now, and we've decided to take care of all the authors and stories already under contract before we begin to consider new submissions.

Thank you,
Bruce Bethke
Stupefying Stories | Rampant Loon Media LLC

Monday, February 15, 2016

Book Release: THE FUGITIVE HEIR, by Henry Vogel

“My parents are not dead!”

Everyone thinks I’m in denial, and have been ever since my parents vanished seven years ago. Everyone thinks I should just shut up, and accept the vast inheritance coming my way. Everyone thinks I should let it go, and get on with my life.

Everyone is wrong.

I know my parents are still alive—but if I reveal how I know, I’ll be drafted into Psi Corps. But my inheritance can fund my search for them.

I didn’t count on deadly opposition from the board of the very company I’m about to inherit. There are powerful people involved who will go to extreme lengths to protect their dark secrets and silence me forever.

[ more...]
But those people don’t know about my three wildcards—my rebuilt spaceship, my best friend who doubles as my bodyguard, and the psychic powers I’ve kept secret my entire life.

My parents are alive, and I’m going to find them and save them—whatever it takes.


Amazon Canada • CDN$ 13.90 •

$2.99 USD (base price) or FREE for Kindle Unlimited subscribers:

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