Size / / /

Content warning:

My pupils sizzle into pinpricks
at the sudden light,
corrugated roof peeling back
like a tin can’s lid.

For longer than you think,
I have lived in this fox-body,
loved darkness with my needle-teeth,
rolled in earth to hold its scent,
screamed in winter at gently popping trees,
stolen savory beating hearts buried
deep in feathered bodies.

Your son holds the lantern high,
and I, caught and cornered,
jaws locked around a chicken neck,
wonder how long it has been
since I was human, whether
justice is still as tricky as knowing
where to bite, and who
left the boy’s young face bruised
as the flesh of a dropped peach.

The gunshot is a hot and sulfurous orange,
but the pain is already fading
as I dive into the cool black pool
of the boy’s rapidly dilating eye.

J. Federle is a wandering lover of ghost stories. She left Kentucky to study poetry in England. Now she lives in Peru with her husband and cow-colored dog, writing her own ghost stories. The Saturday Evening Post, Threepenny Review, and NoSleep Podcast have published her work. Find more of her writing at and @JFederleWrites (Twitter, Instagram, Facebook).
Current Issue
15 Apr 2024

Mnemonic skills test positive: inaccurately positive.
pallid growths like toadstools, / and scuttling many-legged things,
By: Ana Hurtado
Art by: delila
I want to sink my faces into the hot spring and see which one comes out breathing. I’m hoping it’s mine.
Issue 8 Apr 2024
Issue 1 Apr 2024
Issue 25 Mar 2024
By: Sammy Lê
Art by: Kim Hu
Issue 18 Mar 2024
Strange Horizons
Issue 11 Mar 2024
Issue 4 Mar 2024
Issue 26 Feb 2024
Issue 19 Feb 2024
Issue 12 Feb 2024
Issue 5 Feb 2024
Load More
%d bloggers like this: