I wrote a science-fiction short story that was recently published in the January issue of Radarstation Magazine. The magazine is a collection of art from super talented painters & illustrators and also features a short story in each issue.

You can get your own issue in either print or digital here:


With this short story, I had a lot of fun playing with the conventions of the science fiction genre and hopefully adding my own weird take on that universe. The story is very much like an old Twilight Zone episode and I hope it works as both a story & a deeper philosophical level as well just like the best Twilight Zone episodes do.

Here’s a short excerpt for the first few paragraphs of the story:

Sixteen months was a long time to be asleep. Lynch slowly opened his eyes and little black spots appeared where the cryo-pod’s alarm lights blinked at his pupils. A deep throbbing was already developing in his forehead. Waking up from cryosleep was the equivalent of being hit in the face with a sledgehammer.

He tried to wet his dry lips but his tongue had turned to sandpaper. As captain, it was his job to wake the rest of the crew up. It was time to get the mission underway. His joints creaked as he attempted to shake the grogginess.

The murk cleared from his vision and Lynch went stiff when he saw the bloody handprint stamped on the cryo-pod glass, just inches from his face.

Chilled oxygen steamed as the cryo-pod’s lid automatically raised and a rush of putrid air filled his nostrils, metallic and rotten. Lynch warily sat up as the lights stuttered on in the bay. He held his breath and peered over the side. A woman lay covered in crusted blood, her face caved in. Lynch scrambled out of the pod. She was unrecognizable but he could clearly read the name-tag on her company-issued uniform, Gwen Peters, his first mate.

She was cold to the touch and stiff, rigor long since setting in. He had kept his distance from his crew, always making sure he was the outsider but with Gwen it had been different. Their connection had been the closest thing to a friendship he’d ever known.
She shouldn’t have been awake yet. Lynch breathed heavy and something welled up in his throat but he swallowed it back. There’d be time grieve later. He needed answers…

That’s only the first few paragraphs of the story so if this sounds intriguing, definitely pick up the latest issue of Radarstation Magazine!

Special thanks to editor Ron Evans for believing in me as a writer and liking my story enough to include it in his excellent publication!