Size / / /

come, nurture this sacred garden
plant one thousand seeds—and
pour a soul into this earthen mould
let my wholeness be a forest
washed with depth and darkness
from the shady boughs that grow
between my arms and hands

let this head take root
with tendrils,
that reach into the earth
tend this sacred garden
see fruiting bodies sprout from breasts
my fingers green and sap-blooded leaves
upon which insects feast

reach down through clay and rot
feel life push against your skin
amongst the fallen bodies of old dead things
in whose peaty graves i grow
tend this sacred garden
where gods have walked and
where the sun will rise again

lie down amongst me, skin to earth and plant
where bones once paled in the sun
they will crumble back to soil
when this is done
when this garden has finally grown
i will tangle you in vines and tend our garden
as you have done for me




Melody is a rainbow-haired thing and alleged postgraduate student from Adelaide, Australia. When they aren't sharing selfies on twitter (@magicspacegirl), they spend far too much time thinking about role-playing games and coffee. Melody has previously been published in Liminality.
Current Issue
20 Jan 2025

Strange Horizons
Surveillance technology looms large in our lives, sold to us as tools for safety, justice, and convenience. Yet the reality is far more sinister.
Vans and campers, sizeable mobile cabins and some that were barely more than tents. Each one a home, a storefront, and a statement of identity, from the colorful translucent windows and domes that harvested sunlight to the stickers and graffiti that attested to places travelled.
“Don’t ask me how, but I found out this big account on queer Threads is some kind of super Watcher.” Charlii spins her laptop around so the others can see. “They call them Keepers, and they watch the people that the state’s apparatus has tagged as terrorists. Not just the ones the FBI created. The big fish. And people like us, I guess.”
It's 9 a.m., she still hasn't eaten her portion of tofu eggs with seaweed, and Amaia wants the day to be over.
Nadjea always knew her last night in the Clave would get wild: they’re the only sector of the city where drink and drug and dance are unrestricted, and since one of the main Clavist tenets is the pursuit of corporeal joy in all its forms, they’ve more or less refined partying to an art.
surviving / while black / is our superpower / we lift broken down / cars / over our heads / and that’s just a tuesday
After a few deft movements, she tossed the cube back to James, perfectly solved. “We’re going to break into the Seattle Police Department’s database. And you’re going to help me do it.”
there are things that are toxic to a bo(d)y
By: Michelle Kulwicki
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
In this episode of the Strange Horizons Fiction podcast, Michael Ireland presents Michelle Kulwicki's 'Bee Season' read by Emmie Christie.
Issue 13 Jan 2025
Issue 6 Jan 2025
By: Samantha Murray
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
Issue 23 Dec 2024
Issue 16 Dec 2024
Issue 9 Dec 2024
Issue 2 Dec 2024
By: E.M. Linden
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
Issue 25 Nov 2024
Issue 18 Nov 2024
By: Susannah Rand
Podcast read by: Claire McNerney
Issue 11 Nov 2024
Issue 4 Nov 2024
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