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The night death was let into the world
we were playing faro with no aces,
the silver had run out of all the mirrors,
the second hands of the clocks had been removed.
Nothing I could drink
filled the glass fast enough, emptied my heart
with the absence of every tick.
The night death was let into the world
you had your ear to the radio in the root cellar,
transcribing the tickets of every suitcase
in the ghost stations still left unclaimed.
The last of the red-hot love-suicides
was leaning over my shoulder, murmuring
numbers that never added up.



Sonya Taaffe reads dead languages and tells living stories. Her short fiction and poetry have been collected most recently in the Lambda-nominated Forget the Sleepless Shores (Lethe Press) and previously in Singing Innocence and Experience, Postcards from the Province of HyphensA Mayse-Bikhl, and Ghost Signs. She lives with one of her husbands and both of her cats in Somerville, Massachusetts, where she writes about film for Patreon and remains proud of naming a Kuiper Belt object.
Current Issue
20 Mar 2023

Strange Horizons will be open to fiction submissions on April 26th, 2023, at 9 a.m. UTC! To keep our response times manageable and submission windows more frequent, there will be a 1,000-story cap on submissions.
It started with a bit of music, something no one else was even listening to.
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Issue 13 Feb 2023
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Issue 30 Jan 2023
By: Catherine Rockwood
By: Romie Stott
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
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Podcast read by: Maureen Kincaid Speller
Issue 23 Jan 2023
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Strange Horizons
2 Jan 2023
Welcome, fellow walkers of the jianghu.
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