Superhero Fantasy: Dr Z spat out a mouthful of coffee. It was luke warm. TOO luke warm. It had to be the work of his nemesis, Moderato.


Tragedy: They sat, hand in wrinkled hand, and watched the wide screen HDTV bought with their son’s life insurance. It seemed so blurry.


Prehistoric Fantasy: Ug held up the stick in wonder. The magic on the end glowed, flickered, spread to his beard, and hurt.


Comedy: Under pressure from the publishers to “sex things up a bit”, Leo Tolstoy adds a chase scene and shoot out to Anna Karenina.


Stream of Consciousness: The sun was a golden child. Olden child. Wrinkled hands. And old chill followed him home.


Legal fiction: The jury had been rigged. They all had ties to the Family. Every one of them a murderer. A jury of his peers.


Barbarian: “Not that way,” said Xanthia. “It’s blocked by Dark Priests.” A pile of them, actually, from when she had come in with an axe.


Clockpunk: A beast of copper and carved oak clawed out of the canal. The main spring on its back was as twisted as Da Vinci’s fury.


Tragedy: He landed the helicopter on the lawn. His daughter ran out to meet him. In joy, he held her over his head.


Fable: Narcissus lay on the broken glass, scared to move. He finally understood the difficulty of literally loving a mirror.