Size / / /

always the half-hour before a thunderstorm, televisions
tuned to static, a low tone humming through the rooms.
altars everywhere: pyrite, half-melted candles, music boxes
missing teeth. air woven through with smells: juniper,
paint, a pine needle split under the nose and suddenly
the sharp acetone of nail polish remover. a constant
breeze makes every door a lazy mimic of the list
and yaw of the last ship at sea. girl-ghosts do not sleep
and like sharks do not stop moving, swim from room
to dimming room to the sound of faraway birds, the furnace,
the stomp of a slight girl in heavy shoes. a world muted
under moss. the sky a near-boiling pot, the first raindrop waiting.




Cassandra de Alba is a graduate student in Boston. Her work has appeared in Red Lightbulbs, Amethyst Arsenic, and Neon, among other publications. Her most recent chapbook is called Bloodlust (No Spaceships Allowed).
Current Issue
18 Nov 2024

Your distress signals are understood
Somehow we’re now Harold Lloyd/Jackie Chan, letting go of the minute hand
It was always a beautiful day on April 22, 1952.
By: Susannah Rand
Podcast read by: Claire McNerney
In this episode of the Strange Horizons Fiction podcast, Michael Ireland presents Little Lila by Susannah Rand, read by Claire McNerney. Subscribe to the Strange Horizons podcast: Spotify
Issue 11 Nov 2024
Issue 4 Nov 2024
Issue 28 Oct 2024
Issue 21 Oct 2024
By: KT Bryski
Podcast read by: Devin Martin
Issue 14 Oct 2024
Issue 7 Oct 2024
By: Christopher Blake
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
Issue 30 Sep 2024
Issue 23 Sep 2024
By: LeeAnn Perry
Art by: nino
Issue 16 Sep 2024
Issue 9 Sep 2024
Load More