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Evaporating, the face slid, eyes first, into oblivion.
A cloud of a mouth opened, spilling
blue words like soft rain, inking into a waking dream.

Sleep. Rest your head in the grass.
Let wanderlust guide you
from the edge of hard things,
ignore snapping mouths of decision,
unlock yourself into a stagnant life.

Pause. Slip out of duty like a loose shirt.
Hide from the biting hum of time. Click.
Let sing-song slippery wings whisk you,
weeping into flight. Escape, escape.

No one but you knows this place, its dark webbed corners,
where mind weaves absence and regret into cramped stillness
whispering, Wait. Let the leaves fall into another evening.
Of all that’s undone, there is none tonight left to do.



E. F. Schraeder holds an interdisciplinary doctorate emphasizing applied ethics and is the author of two poetry chapbooks, most recently Chapter Eleven (Partisan Press). Dr. Schraeder’s work has appeared in Birthing Monsters, Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, Mystery Weekly Magazine, The Feminist Wire, and other journals and anthologies.
Current Issue
22 Apr 2024

We’d been on holiday at the Shoon Sea only three days when the incident occurred. Dr. Gar had been staying there a few months for medical research and had urged me and my friend Shooshooey to visit.
...
For a long time now you’ve put on the shirt of the walls,/just as others might put on a shroud.
Tu enfiles longuement la chemise des murs,/ tout comme d’autres le font avec la chemise de la mort.
The little monster was not born like a human child, yelling with cold and terror as he left his mother’s womb. He had come to life little by little, on the high, three-legged bench. When his eyes had opened, they met the eyes of the broad-shouldered sculptor, watching them tenderly.
Le petit monstre n’était pas né comme un enfant des hommes, criant de froid et de terreur au sortir du ventre maternel. Il avait pris vie peu à peu, sur la haute selle à trois pieds, et quand ses yeux s’étaient ouverts, ils avaient rencontré ceux du sculpteur aux larges épaules, qui le regardaient tendrement.
We're delighted to welcome Nat Paterson to the blog, to tell us more about his translation of Léopold Chauveau's story 'The Little Monster'/ 'Le Petit Monstre', which appears in our April 2024 issue.
Issue 15 Apr 2024
By: Ana Hurtado
Art by: delila
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
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