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If you fall in love with a vampire,
you will always feel a keen flicker of fear
when his lips linger
over the pulse point at the crook of your neck.

When dating a werewolf,
it is considered polite to leave a dish of water out
on the night of the full moon.
(A few pieces of raw beef chuck will never go amiss,
either.)

Avoid fallen angels at all costs.
They are sanctimonious.

If you find out that the cute andro-queer barista at your
local coffee shop is a witch,
understand that she has dated at least half of the women in
her coven by this point,
and every one of them will have some nasty piece of gossip
about her.

Running barefoot through the woods with a dryad
is exhilarating at first,
but over time it becomes exhausting.

The Victorian Gentlemen who crashes on your doorstep
in his H.G. Wells time machine
is guaranteed to be charming and debonair
with an impeccable fashion sense and polished manners.
Unfortunately he will also have some very regressive ideas
about gender roles.

If you have a bad breakup with a shape shifter
there is every chance that you will see them again.
But they will always be unrecognizable to you.

You will always feel the sweet, subtle ache of loss
if you choose to love a ghost.



Caroline Cantrell lives in New York.
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.
...
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.
For a long time now you’ve put on the shirt of the walls,/just as others might put on a shroud.
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Issue 12 Feb 2024
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