The City Majestic in Flight

The astrologers issued their report. In consequence, the gates closed, the citizens took their positions in reinforced halls, and the city rose as thaumaturgical engineers oversaw the abstruse processes which enabled the migration.
The people of Invarn thrived to such a degree that they no longer accepted seasons as something merely to be endured bur rather as a problem which must admit a solution provided they bent themselves to finding it. They had not misjudged their capacity. The city floated with practiced ease and had already accomplished three landings. What could prevent a fourth?
The dastards of Rellen-Bollat! Their agents had stolen the knowledge, nor did the king blush to imitate his rival in every particular. The two cities spotted each other and raced to the ideal position, above which they bumped against each other over and over till both were forced to land in order to effect repairs. The nomads of Tutsuna arrived in the meantime to claim the spot, though the Kauneggi tribe, displaced from its homeland, arrived to contest that pretension.
Seeing that, Invarn rose again, but nowhere was there unclaimed land. The population had grown too great. The city's sages started to plan.
Finis

Mobile Urban Fantasy

So in spaceships so large they have internal cities, do you think each has vampires and werewolves and such, or just one kind each? It would be easier for a secret society to keep control over entry, but on the other hand, they might not care as much, especially if they can combine their abilities to resist alien infiltration.

Addendum

I know it's hard, but please resist splitting into factions over whether that's the only one who speaks Egyptian or if the others all do so perfectly. The world has seen enough strife.

Big News

Did you know that one of the great spirits in the Lesser Key of Solomon speaks Egyptian, but not well? Be sure to include that detail in all your modern day occult fiction, urban or otherwise. It's our shared cultural heritage and everyone needs to know.

On the Other Side of the Lethe

I was driving toward the herpetology conference when the evening and weather, dismissive of the intellectual as they always are, conspired to obscure the way. I paused at the first establishment which appeared both open and likely to have working wifi, which surprised me.
Not beause of the lack of customers; I anticipated that when I saw it to be a bookstore just large enough to prevent suspicions of a repurposed meat locker. Not on account of the shelves, at first glance, contained little but popular mysteries and fantasy epics popular during a period not indicated by "a couple years back," or the absence of functioning wifi. That it was open was the surprise. That is, open in the sense of existing as a business.
As for employees, it had one, a number I thought a trifle high. He happened to be a friendly man, Kirk Wentworth by name, who was able to describe the best route to the venue once I remembered part of its name, and soon I was underway again.
I am not a man accustomed to becoming lost solely because I check and recheck and 10 GOTO 20. Wishing to review my progress, I paused again at, this is a true tale, a newspaper stand by the roadside. It boasted a roof, to explain my choice.
A patron, the only one, thumbing through a magazine became interested in my mumbling, for I admit my sentiments did not permit a perfect dignified silence. I told him of the circumstances. He exclaimed at them. Kirk Wentworth, it seemed, had passed away some fifteen years earlier.
He therefore could not have known about certain construction projects which had altered the traffic situation. By contrast, the person to whom I was then speaking had died a mere eight years prior and accordingly was able to instruct me better. I arrived well in time. Several attendees shared similar incidents. We interpreted them as proof of the importance of the field of study which had captivated our mental energies.
Finis

On Urban Fantasy Adaptations

They should be radio shows. An hour per episode, twice per week, most of them two-parters. Desired advertisers: antacids, boxed wine, vacuum cleaners.

The Legacy of the Sword

"No army in the world ever relied on the sword," Roger said. He meant it, too.
Every single person Alex consulted said the same. He came to doubt. Was he wrong? Tromping along cold streets in the lonely night, he wondered. Had he sold his sanity to buy pleasantly superior thoughts of a history only he could know?
"Can't be," he thought. Then he said it. "It can't be. The Romans were real. Everyone knows that. What's going on?" His voice rose. "Rome was real!"
"Not for long." The fog swirled, blown about by an unseen power, but then one seen. A figure stepped forth and confronted Alex. "That dead people exists only in memory. Memories I have erased. Yours are the last, and I do not think you will keep them long. Hmph." The ghost of Hannibal raised his spectral sword, a cleaver of thoughts, a destroyer of minds.
Alex reached into his pocket and spoke the words.
Finis

The Latest Fantasy Subgenre

Street fantasy deals with fantasy in a modern-day setting, but instead of vampires and werewolves, it's furry green lightning men from Brazil.

Addendum

Q. How about those Dresden books?
A. Pinball.

The Secret City

There are secrets in this city that most can never find. For them the sun lights the streets from morning till night while others see only the second moon, dim and foreboding. The bell in the great tower rings every hour, but not for everyone. There are those whose ears are never reached by its peals. The paved streets serve the ordinary well enough, but the earth itself grasps at the ankles of those it desires so that they struggle simply to walk. There are two worlds in this one city, and none knows why each is placed in either. So that's why I was late.