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I looked at you at the end of the world
In the fading light of the dying sun.
You took in the sky, one last time,

"It feels like we had just begun."

You and I, we're getting a little tired.

The world keeps ending, hinting that it’s almost through
So we've been bracing for impact, it's only natural that
If I'm going, I want to be gone with you.

The sirens blare, and they never stop
Bridges burn, people run amok
We watch with empty eyes
I suppose it's no surprise.

A clean end would be too good to be true.

I looked at the hazy sky above
The inky blues with the fractured pinks
"We might still make it," I said,
And you laughed
The slow sad sound of broken things.

So we've been running, I've been
Holding out hope. You drive over —

Shattered glass
Bird bones
A book on gardening

— I'm starting to choke.

You say we're getting there
(there's nowhere left to go.)

But I'd follow you anywhere, the heavens know.

Would it be alright, to leave unseen
When the world burns like a movie scene?
Quiet
Unknown
With the last good, forgiving, breeze.

Together, till the end, in silent seas.

I will hold your hand when the tides start to swell
And hope you are holding on
(they say I do it well)
And we'll brave the siege, awash.
The waves crest and crash —

Salt water on skin
Until it seeps within.



Shreejita Majumder can usually be found typing away on her laptop, or spinning stories in her head while walking along the busy streets of Kolkata. Poet, artist, writer, keeper-of-sparrows, and plant-whisperer, she has recently completed her Master’s degree in English literature. Her work can be found on Instagram @tireless_hope and she’s on Twitter @ennuinox.
Current Issue
18 Mar 2024

Welcome New Fiction Editor! 
Strange Horizons
We are very happy to welcome Dante Luiz as a new fiction editor on the team! Dante is a Ignyte Award winning author, and has been with Strange Horizons working as an Art Director for the past several years. We’re stoked to bring him on to the fiction side and have him bring his wonderful insight and skill to the fiction team.
The Cyborg’s Side of the Story 
in my defence, juggling biological and artificial, i tripped over my shoelace, and spilled my lungs empty of the innocence that was, before guilt.
Aviary 
the birds, / who carry with them / the many names of the dead
Feeder Fish 
Day in and day out, the rough waters of the Pacific slam themselves against the protrusion of sandstone the locals refer to as Morro Rock. White streaks of bird shit bleed down the rock, a testament to the rare birds of prey that nest in its pocked face overlooking the bay.
Monday: Twice Lived by Joma West 
Wednesday: Overlap: The Lives of a Former Time Jumper by N. Joseph Glass 
Issue 11 Mar 2024
Issue 4 Mar 2024
Issue 26 Feb 2024
Issue 19 Feb 2024
Issue 12 Feb 2024
Issue 5 Feb 2024
Issue 29 Jan 2024
Issue 15 Jan 2024
Issue 8 Jan 2024
Issue 1 Jan 2024
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