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As editors here at Strange Horizons, we know that we like all of the pieces we publish, but our annual Reader's Choice Awards give you, our readers, the opportunity to tell us what you liked best. Voting is closed now, the results have been tabulated, and the winners are ready to be announced.

Before we get to that, though, I'd like to point out that our Spring Fund Drive is underway. We're proud of what we've accomplished here at Strange Horizons, but we couldn't have done it without your help, and we need your help to keep doing it. We're looking to raise three thousand dollars in the month of April and every contribution counts! As always, we have a number of lovely membership gifts for people who donate twenty-five dollars or more, but if you can't spare twenty-five dollars, we'd be delighted if you gave us just five or ten. In fact, any donation of any amount (no matter how big or small) enters you in a drawing for one of our fabulous donor prizes. Your contributions are what keeps Strange Horizons publishing, and we hope to keep publishing for many years to come.

So while you're here, check out our fund drive pages and consider making a (tax-deductible!) donation to Strange Horizons today.


On to the fun part!

It is with great pleasure that I present to you the winners of the 2005 Strange Horizons Reader's Choice Awards.

Articles

Columns

Art

Illustration

Poetry

Reviews

Fiction

Congratulations to all of the winners!




Susan Marie Groppi is a historian, writer, and editor. She was a fiction editor at Strange Horizons from 2001 to 2010, and Editor-in-Chief from January 2004 to December 2010.
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18 May 2026

Hymn To Scylla 
Maybe we overestimated ourselves, I thought, watching the ferries hum against the wine-dark sea. Even if we floated above it, we were still bound to the ocean, engulfed in all its weight and inescapable history. To believe otherwise was a kind of hubris. But we had believed otherwise anyway, and so each of us had become something smaller, less human, suspended in a brittle net of want and memory. And then she appeared. At the wrong time, in the wrong place. My Scylla, my monstress, my deathless siren of anglerfish light. Longing, in that empty, unmoving ocean, for things that had not existed for centuries. How could anyone blame her? The only alternative was to grieve. 
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