Size / / /

During the elongated years everyone stretched.

Some were not unattractive this way. Women on the whole fared better than men, who merely appeared cadaverous to varying degrees. Certain weighty women of the proper proportions— though still ponderous in stance and movement—became irresistibly vulpine, the height of high fashion. Vogue models were extended to grotesque stick figures.

It was not only the physical world that elongated but the passage of time itself. Days were stretched so far that some of us took to nodding off in the middle of the afternoons. Not that we never had before.

Dinner parties, at least the dull ones, became intolerably prolonged, often resulting in several suicides before dessert could be served.

A visit to the dentist was like a sentence to Dante's Hell without the poetry.

The nights seemed as if they would never end. In the elongated dark there was time for anything to transpire. As we shifted our pillows and bodies this way and that we would drift in and out of a twilight world, never completely conscious and never fully asleep. In this halfway place, dream life warred against dream death. Dream symbols took on the dimensions of parsecs.

Our lives were stretched beyond their limits.

Elongated sex proved our salvation. The male orgasm achieved a duration formerly known only to the female. The female orgasm found time to develop such breadth and depth that even Kama Sutra sex adepts of the mysterious East were lost in its infinite fathoms.

Now that the elongated years have passed and our protracted travail is history, it is strange how we at times recall those days with a certain fondness. Stranger still that some seem to crave the return of unnatural length to our lives.

We are again our normal sizes. The seconds and minutes move forward at a regular pace, clicking with diurnal insistence. The clocks keep melting as we knew they would. And I can't help wondering if it could all be over before we ever elongate again.

Bruce Boston is the author of forty-seven books and chapbooks, including the novels The Guardener's Tale and Stained Glass Rain. His writing has received the Bram Stoker Award, a Pushcart Prize, the Asimov's Readers Award, and the Grand Master Award of the Science Fiction Poetry Association. You can read more about him at and see some of his previous work in our archives.
Current Issue
29 Nov 2021

It is perhaps fitting, therefore, that our donor's choice special issue for 2021 is titled—simply—Friendship.
The year before this, the girls at school had called her Little Lila .
Pictures of me that day are kept in the ship’s files, sent back to Earth to be used in my captors’ eventual war crimes tribunals.
Perhaps a new urban system of star navigation is needed
This world, covered in spectral ebullience, was tied together by bows of light
Are you a good witch / or a bad witch? / as if there’s an answer earned, inscribed in bubbles reflecting an inverse crown.
When does the pursuit of pure thought, pure idealism, pure escapism become detrimental?
Issue 22 Nov 2021
Issue 15 Nov 2021
By: Madeline Grigg
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 8 Nov 2021
By: Allison Parrish
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 1 Nov 2021
By: Liam Corley
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Podcast read by: Liam Corley
Issue 25 Oct 2021
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Issue 18 Oct 2021
By: K. Ceres Wright
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 11 Oct 2021
By: Lisabelle Tay
Podcast read by: Kat Kourbeti
Issue 4 Oct 2021
By: Anthony Okpunor
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 2 Oct 2021
Podcast: Fund Drive 2021 Poetry 
By: Michael Meyerhofer
By: Wale Ayinla
Podcast read by: Michael Meyerhofer
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
29 Sep 2021
Opening to fiction submissions for the month of November!
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