Holly Schofield
Holly Schofield travels through time at the rate of one second per second, oscillating between the alternate realities of city and country life. Her short stories have appeared in Analog, Lightspeed, Escape Pod, and many other publications throughout the world. She hopes to save the world through science fiction and homegrown heritage tomatoes. Find her at hollyschofield.wordpress.com.
By Holly Schofield
The Boggart of Campsite C47
Boggarts don’t generally pick up rubbish but Moulde has no choice today. Loosening tent pegs, pouring water on sleeping bags, opening cooler lids—nothing discourages this year’s campers. Like wild boars across Yorkshire moors, the bloody pillocks just keep marauding through the campgrounds of Alberta Western Provincial Park. What Moulde wouldn’t give to be back in […]
The Knells of Agassiz
The breeze is too gentle and too warm against Emma’s cheeks as she steps out of the quad tiltrotor onto the gravel shoreline. The journey from more than seven hundred kilometres to the south has taken four hours. She sets the self-driving copter into standby mode with a swipe of her arm controls. “Emma, what’s […]
Bear #178
The scientists put the metal box in my brain for a reason. They are wise and clever and I’m sure the reason must be a good one. Now, three campers face me on the trail just outside Banff. The tall one, a male, shows his teeth. When I was just a regular grizzly bear, I […]
Stewardship
The Steward directed its mobile robotic unit closer to the timber wolf splayed on the wet autumn leaves. Rain pelted down on the animal’s rough, grey fur. The robot, receiving the Steward’s instructions, extended a pincer toward the wolf’s chest, collecting sensory data and transmitting it back. The Steward began to design possible nonstandard reconfigurations […]
A Distant Honk
The footprints were as big as my snowshoe, the narrow heel a crisp outline, the impression not more than a couple of hours old. The clown tracks beelined from the forest edge toward my campsite, then grew more erratic as they disappeared between dark spruce trees hunched under their winter burdens. I shuddered, picturing it […]
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