Table of Contents | 31 Oct 2016
Strange Horizons would like to thank SF3 for providing funding for this special issue, which focuses on Spanish SF. Greyed-out content will be published later in the week
The dress created a landscape filled with velvety valleys and hills on the brown carpet. She turned the dress off and it instantly became a barren wasteland, dry and arid.
El tejido configuró un paisaje plagado de valles y colinas aterciopeladas sobre la parda moqueta. Apagó el vestido que al momento se convirtió en un campo yermo, seco y árido.
The regent must remain on the rusted throne, enduring storms of water and snow, and the occasional droppings of the eagles flying overhead.
El regente debe permanecer en el trono oxidado, soportando tormentas de agua y nieve, y los ocasionales deshechos de las águilas que lo sobrevuelan.
"I propose that we try to reconsider some key elements of the fantastic genre, both those that are more traditional as well as the ones which, in my opinion, are erupting with force in this new century"
Sonia Camacho is a Berlin-based illustrator and artist born in Seville, Spain, who currently develops illustration and design projects in Europe. 
My sadness / is like that treeless island today; / like its winter or its night, my soul.
Mi tristeza / es como esa isla sin árboles hoy; / como su ínvíerno o su noche, mi alma.
stick your tongue into what nobody dares / stick your tongue until it hurts into the end of the flowering apple
mete a lingua no que non se atreven outros / mete a lingua até a dor á fin das mazás en flor
To wait and wait and wait for each one to return to its place, for the shadow that lifted the shadow of a cup to spread its arms, demanding more and that the cup keeps turning, for the mouths that spilled the wine to breathe its breath But – silence!
Y esperar y esperar y esperar que cada cual regrese a su sitio, que aquella sombra que alzó la sombra de una copa extienda sus brazos exigiendo más y que la copa siga girando, que las bocas que vertieron el vino respiren su aliento...
You ask me if I am going. What fear comes from my thoughts to this house. I don’t respond, I see her outside, she has the salt of the ocean stuck to her fingers, she has a laugh similar to mine, she waits for the instinct of a bird, to flutter around my head and to go down, to scratch on the skin where she was born, to fly without wings.
Preguntas, si me voy, qué miedo va de mis pensamientos a esta casa. Yo no respondo, la veo afuera, tiene la sal del océano pegada en los dedos, lleva una risa parecida a la mía, espera el instinto del pájaro, revolotear en mi cabeza y bajar, arañar en la piel donde nace, volar si no tiene alas.
By: Sofía Rhei
Translated by: Lawrence Schimel
the straight line of vision / can be curved through
la línea recta de la visión / puede ser curvada mediante
By: Susana Vallejo
Podcast read by: Anaea Lay
Translated by: Lawrence Schimel
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Susana Vallejo and Lawrence Schimel’s “Gracia.”
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Susana Vallejo’s “Gracia (Spanish),” read by Karlo Yeager Rodriguez.
By: Tamara Romero
Podcast read by: Anaea Lay
Translated by: Lawrence Schimel
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Tamara Romero’s “Esmeralda,” translated by Lawrence Schimel.
By: Tamara Romero
Podcast read by: David Bowles
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Tamara Romero’s “Esmeralda (Spanish),” read by David Bowles.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Ciro Faienza presents poetry from the special Spanish SF issue.
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