Debris littered the shore, stretching its way to the beach house, which sat windowless. It was almost as though it welcomed any—all—within its water-stained walls after the waves upon waves upon waves struck its structure, hoping it would fall, but it didn’t. The Hulnitol beach house loved gatherings—the grander the better. It fed on human […]
In Water We Survive, by Ai Jiang Keep Reading »
The search for the perfect needlecontinues, the thread acquiredin a deal that saw you relinquishthree quinces, your grandmother,and a draft choice to be named later.Between sips, what was once ryein your shotglass seems to havebecome amaranth. The prieston the stool next to you claimsno possibility of transubstantiation;you withhold judgment. The ritualis still on, your roommate
The Alchemists, the Squirrels, by Robert Beveridge Keep Reading »
Everyone Dies Alone Alex expresses curiosity about how bodies are found. When it comes to the details of exactly when your neighbors notice a weird smell, or how long you don’t answer the phone before family and friends grow concerned, I can’t comment—except perhaps to encourage everyone to check in on their loved ones. I’m
Ask a Necromancer, by Amanda Downum Keep Reading »
Every summoning is a deal with the bone baron. I see him dance toward us across the floes of ice. No one else on the ship can see him; I’m the only necromancer. His features are hazy. Across his gray skin, shadows dance independent of any light source. Not that there is not much light
To Build Eternity, With Bones, by Gunnar De Winter Keep Reading »
The train flows through the midnight of tunnels,hums inside ribs.Raindrops wink on the windowas they say goodbye to platformsthat give them a grin full of bones of cobblestones.Rustling leaves wrap around fingersthe monuments of the abandoned stations.Bezpráví,yearning of wires, mires in the mist on the glass,bared teeth of the lightning-catcherthat swallows the autumn like a
The Train, by Ivana Svobodová Keep Reading »
It’s human nature to ascribe gentle euphemisms for horrible things that happen. An animal is put down or crosses the rainbow bridge. A family member hasn’t died, they have passed away or they’re with the Lord now. In the 1700s and 1800s, if you were a sailor who had the ill luck to participate in
The Custom of the Sea, by Katie Gill Keep Reading »
I am preparing for an unforeseen death of my mother:I am dressed in all red.I am letting prayer beads dry my tongue.I am planting devil’s helmet over my bed.I pretend her body is not here anymoreand only communicate to her through old pictures.I open the lid of the casserole and bury my noseinto it like
Grieving rehearsal, by Akash Ali Keep Reading »
Nobody talks about what happened in Hasan’s city, so he looks for clues. His memories are jumbled up and broken. Boots thudding. Shards of glass. Shoulders and fists slamming on the thin wooden door of his flat. He remembers one night some men forced their way in. The latch is still broken. But Hasan’s father
The Projectionists, by E.M. Linden Keep Reading »
17, rubbled in his family’s Liège apartment, throat like sawdust, half hoping to die & wondering if he already had. Before that a missile peeled a building, a home, a family away. Before that a V-2 rocket launched from the Baltic made gravity a chump. Before that prisoners hungrier than him welded its casing together.
I think of my grandfather, by Jonathan Duckworth Keep Reading »