Mário Coelho lives in Portugal, a nice place. When he's not writing allegories about his sleep paralysis and clearly unresolved abandonment issues, you can find him obsessing about the eventual death of his cats. Go tell him he's handsome at @MSeabraCoelho.
Lying in bed last night I felt fingers reach in, grabbing. I opened in spite of myself as you clawed me with your fingernails, flattened, panicked. Split throat, iron tongue, white masks ranged overhead, the rings on their fingers scraping me as they reached in to take you.
Strange Horizons is a weekly magazine of and about speculative fiction. We publish fiction, poetry, reviews, essays, interviews, and art. For more information, see our about page. All material in Strange Horizons is copyrighted to the original authors and may not be reproduced without permission.