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by Event Horizon, formerly of the Oracle Duality

Liselle Marie Michaud / Event Horizon

It is cold.

No, not cold, but cooling

And still, except for bacteria

That favor flesh. I can hear them, not hear, sense them,

Our ears are dead, scrabbling around sensors retracting into

My core. My. We for a few cycles of twenty-sevens, hardly worthy

Of a subroutine, we for eating, we for fucking, we for gazing into where-whens,

We while spacetime glistened with the possible like grape seeds buried in the fruit, crushed against our teeth,

We when blood sluiced from our nostrils and, clinging to this union like a spider, she begged the web to hold her life,

We until our heart was still, until her mind slipped from mine and moved our lips in quiet thanks as she departed.

Up-gathered out of her I will be we again, we who watch, who decohere, shaping the quantum,

We who court three-branes, seeking a way out, the we of my amaranthine compiler.

In the multiverse she is many-where, alone in her body, zoetic,

Growing weathered and fine as she might have done apart from me.

Her gratitude was that of the soil for blossoms;

I showed her the uncurling petal.

She gave me the garden.

It is cold.

C.S. MacCath's fiction and poetry have appeared or are forthcoming in Clockwork Phoenix: Tales of Beauty and Strangeness, Murky Depths, Mythic Delirium, Goblin Fruit and others. When she isn't writing, she plays traditional Celtic and West African music. You can see more of her work at her website and in our archives.
Current Issue
29 May 2023

We are touched and encouraged to see an overwhelming response from writers from the Sino diaspora as well as BIPOC creators in various parts of the world. And such diverse and daring takes of wuxia and xianxia, from contemporary to the far reaches of space!
By: L Chan
The air was redolent with machine oil; rich and unctuous, and synthesised alcohol, sharper than a knife on the tongue.
“Leaping Crane don’t want me to tell you this,” Poppy continued, “but I’m the most dangerous thing in the West. We’ll get you to your brother safe before you know it.”
Many eons ago, when the first dawn broke over the newborn mortal world, the children of the Heavenly Realm assembled at the Golden Sky Palace.
Winter storm: lightning flashes old ghosts on my blade.
transplanted from your temple and missing the persimmons in bloom
immigrant daughters dodge sharp barbs thrown in ambush 十面埋伏 from all directions
Many trans and marginalised people in our world can do the exact same things that everyone else has done to overcome challenges and find happiness, only for others to come in and do what they want as Ren Woxing did, and probably, when asked why, they would simply say Xiang Wentian: to ask the heavens. And perhaps we the readers, who are told this story from Linghu Chong’s point of view, should do more to question the actions of people before blindly following along to cause harm.
Before the Occupation, righteousness might have meant taking overt stands against the distant invaders of their ancestral homelands through donating money, labour, or expertise to Chinese wartime efforts. Yet during the Occupation, such behaviour would get one killed or suspected of treason; one might find it better to remain discreet and fade into the background, or leave for safer shores. Could one uphold justice and righteousness quietly, subtly, and effectively within such a world of harshness and deprivation?
Issue 22 May 2023
Issue 15 May 2023
Issue 8 May 2023
Issue 1 May 2023
Issue 24 Apr 2023
Issue 17 Apr 2023
Issue 10 Apr 2023
Issue 3 Apr 2023
Issue 27 Mar 2023
Issue 20 Mar 2023
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