Category: Previous Issues

Este mundo se tiene que acabar is something church ladies mutter to each other when something offends their moral sensibilities. This world has to end – but what if it didn’t? What if it kept grinding along, getting worse and worse, and everyone simply adapted to it? What would we do? This is what Agustina…

Judaism, Christianity and Islam all share stories of a War in Heaven: Satan, jealous at the love God has for humanity, leads an army of angels in rebellion, but is defeated and cast down to Hell. The story is so influential that, thousands of years after it entered the Tanakh, it inspired Dante’s Inferno and…

The first time you fall in love, you are hiding in the catacombs. In that cold, dry labyrinth of bones, the feeling comes on suddenly and takes the form of an unfamiliar ache in your chest. It’s a bit like rat flu; blood rushes to your nethers, your throat constricts. The tag hanging around her…

I wake in June, free from my former self. Rhythmic beating of the tides have washed away most of the troublesome details from before: my name, how I came to be, relations. Scrubbed and purged by my mother the sea, I stretch upon a bed of shifting sands. Glowing orbs twinkle through the otherwise impenetrable…

The girls will enter the convent on two feet. They will walk belly first, some showing crescent slivers, others August full-moons. The nuns will watch, stone-angel-faced, as the girls sniffle and cry. This is your home, the nuns will say. For now. The statues and icons will also watch. The Lady of Sorrows most intently…

For seventy years, a Biblical age, the shadows hungered in the village. Daylight, moonlight. Growth of weeds, and slumber of stone. The settlers smashed in the domes of the houses to keep away the living. They forgot to ward off the dead. Thirsting, the shadows raised desiccated tongues to catch the benevolence of Baal Haddad,…

Naben Ruthnum’s Helpmeet is a story of possession, but not in the way you’d expect from a work of horror. Rather than ghosts, it confronts readers with the question of what it means to truly possess, to have, someone you love. A slim, beautiful, and disgusting novella of complicated love and even more complicated body…

This is the boy. This is how he is. He comes to the fair, uneven. Doubling forward, leaning improbably, weaving through and around. His bottle drained, he drops it. Brown glass pops and tinkles. A dozen brown moons stare up from the shards. The boy is not yet eighteen. He’s not tall. His hair isn’t…

Oh, how Pilot hated them all. She hated Eyes, lying and deceitful, always trying to please. She hated Ears, passive and flapping. She hated greedy, grimy Hands and rough, flat Feet. She particularly hated the middle line – Lips, Tongue, Chest, Torso. She’d loved them once. They had been one, unified and together. But as…