I My great-grandmother’s house didn’t diewhen she left. They took away her onlyring, the moldy zines, the chairs andcoffee tables she had collectedfrom green rubbish bins.When that failed, they took herghosts as well. II My mother slapped my arm when Itried to press a hand against the wall.It is bad manners to wake a housefrom […]
My Great-Grandmother’s House, by Madalena Daleziou Keep Reading »
On the ferry to the island, I saw a man dressed as a jester. His image flashed into view in my side mirror as I sat there half-dozing behind the steering wheel. It was midday as we chugged along across the sound, and the sun glared off the smattering of pickups and SUVs and vans
Adventure, by Richard Butner Keep Reading »
the ghost screams twenty-three minutes before your alarmmakes the towels musty dampall the damn timeshe shatters your favorite mugand hides the superglue in the freezerinsists on slamming doors shutand opens all the windows wide in winter lookyou can’t really blame herfor being cranky,a sullen spectral roommatewafting through repainted wallswailing at odd hours you’re in her
Roommate, by Cislyn Smith Keep Reading »
Beware the Bone Thieves The first day I set foot in the embalming lab as a wee mortuary student was a profound experience for me. It was the first time I had been in the room with death, face to face and flesh to flesh. In that moment, any doubts I may have had were
Ask a Necromancer, by Amanda Downum Keep Reading »
I don’t want the things they offer me. Warm blood and broken skulls. Grunting pigs and headless roosters. Bottles of cold milk I can’t drink and hard bread I can’t eat. There’s only one thing I really want, and none of them is likely to give it to me. I’m tired, and I want to
Their Blood Smells of Love and Terror, by Josh Rountree Keep Reading »
A band of children chasing a half-deflated ball past sun-bleached skulls and discarded femurs. Clotheslines burdened with damp linen sagging between crumbling tombs. A skillet sizzling away above a makeshift stove perched atop a chipped sarcophagus. These scenes may strike most of us as plucked straight from the fictional landscape of some post apocalyptic motion
A Life Among the Tombstones, by M. Van Ell Keep Reading »
take one moment, finely choppedsautée with onion, garlic, an anchovy if you eat fishprepare some bread and butterlet it rest take the next, a piece of cakebroken into piecesstir gently into a glass of winered for chocolate, white for fruit take the third, a fallen leafnot too crispychewed along with a swig from a bottle
how to make time, by M. Darusha Wehm Keep Reading »
It is festival time in the Narrow City. The air is thick with the sound of rustling paper, as though a whirlwind is loose in a library. The Narrow City is as old as the world on the other side of the Gates, older than the Gates, older than the Guardians. Parts of the City
Thirteen Goes to the Festival, by L Chan Keep Reading »
I wake in the nightwhen you don’t.You sleep beside a bassaris on a bed of pissset with figsand flesh.I sleep(when I do)on lungs. Jenn Grunigen is a writer and fig omophagist. Her work can be found in Nightmare, Strange Horizons, Shimmer, and elsewhere. She drums for multiple projects, including the folk/black metal band Felled.
The Raving One, by Jenn Grunigen Keep Reading »