Rags & Bones: New Twists on Timeless Tales

Rags & Bones: New Twists on Timeless Tales

Melissa Marr, Tim Pratt

Language: English

Pages: 368

ISBN: 0316212938

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The best writers of our generation retell classic tales.

From Sir Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene to E. M. Forster's "The Machine Stops," literature is filled with sexy, deadly, and downright twisted tales. In this collection, award-winning and bestselling authors reimagine their favorite classic stories, the ones that have inspired, awed, and enraged them, the ones that have become ingrained in modern culture, and the ones that have been too long overlooked. They take these stories and boil them down to their bones, and reassemble them for a new generation of readers.

Written from a twenty-first century perspective and set within the realms of science fiction, dystopian fiction, fantasy, and realistic fiction, these short stories are as moving and thought provoking as their originators. They pay homage to groundbreaking literary achievements of the past while celebrating each author's unique perception and innovative style.

Today's most acclaimed authors use their own unique styles to rebuild the twelve timeless stories:

Sir Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene - Saladin Ahmed

W. W. Jacobs's "The Monkey's Paw" - Kelley Armstrong

Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu's "Carmilla" - Holly Black

"Sleeping Beauty" - Neil Gaiman

The Brothers Grimm's "Rumpelstiltskin" - Kami Garcia

Kate Chopin's The Awakening - Melissa Marr

Rudyard Kipling's "The Man Who Would Be King" - Garth Nix

Henry James's "The Jolly Corner" - Tim Pratt

E. M. Forster's "The Machine Stops" - Carrie Ryan

Horace Walpole's The Castle of Otranto - Margaret Stohl

William Seabrook's "The Caged White Werewolf of the Saraban" - Gene Wolfe

Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Birth-Mark" - Rick Yancey

And six illustrations by Charles Vess

The Dancing Girl of Izu and Other Stories

Unbound: Tales by Masters of Fantasy

Poésies complètes

The Penguin Book of English Short Stories

Wild Invitation: A Psy/Changeling Anthology (Psy-Changelings)













tunnel to the surface expecting to see her there, but instead he finds nothing except darkness capped by a wash of stars. “Pria!” When he calls her name, his voice echoes unnaturally from the metal walls surrounding him. He isn’t used to this claustrophobic nature of sound; where he lives there’s space for noises to unfold and stretch. His sister doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even pop her head over the lip of the tunnel to taunt him or let him see her face. Tavil hesitates, wondering if he should go

called out, because the light was extremely helpful, and the proofs were such a mess and set quite small, and there was this one footnote I couldn’t quite read. But she ignored me, opening the door and entering the compartment. Rather annoyingly, she also dimmed the radiance that emitted not only from her beautiful face, but from her exposed skin. Of which there was quite a lot, as she was clad only in the silken garment that is called a rhuskin in these regions, but is also known as a coob-jam

eighty or so years ago. It began slowly. It spread only recently. It is spreading faster and faster. We do not know if the sleepers can ever wake. We do not know anything, save that we may not actually have another two days.” She eyed the dense tangle of thorns, living and dead, decades of dried, dead plants, their thorns as sharp in death as ever they were when alive. She walked along the wall until she reached a skeleton, and she pulled the rotted cloth from its shoulders, and felt it as she

Canal Street; and meeting up with your friends to see movies in deliciously cold theaters where we shared slushies that stained our mouths ruby red. And then your cousin Bertha got sick and died within a week of her first symptom. I bet you’re thinking about that, thinking about how I’d go down to her apartment on the eleventh floor on Wednesdays to watch that show about aliens that you thought was stupid. I bet you’re thinking about how it was a Thursday morning when she collapsed. I know what

crowded with buttons. Almost all are empty, and it is the rare window through which Tavil glimpses the bulbous flesh of another human being. They are all headed to the surface, and just thinking the word makes him realize that he can almost taste how the air on this level is different. As if each airship brings a bit of the world above back with it as it arrives. A fierce yearning spreads through Tavil, a desire to abandon this mechanical world and return home to his sister. He strides along

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