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Mu sits on the edge of the bed in the Midtown apartment, looking out the window. In front of him, on the windowsill, there is the yellow pill and a glass of water. He feels helpless, robbed of free will. Whether he takes the pill or not, his actions feel...

The Tailings by Brian Daniel Green

Podcast: Read by Florita Gunasekara Vagovidopito squatted in his hovel at the center of the Sun. A place so cold, the Sun’s heat only managed a single drip down the blackened icicle hanging from his pointy warty nose. Hunched over, he carved every new soul and blew...

Datsue-Ba by Eliza Chan

Illustration by Kieran Walsh We must not have heard her knock. The rice paper door slid open and an elderly woman in a yukata bowed low at the entrance. ‘Excuse my intrusion, I’ve brought your evening meal,’ the attendant said, raising her head and looking briefly at...

Champollion’s Foot by Haris A. Durrani

I died as a mineral and became a plant, I died as plant and rose to animal, I died as animal and I was Man. Why should I fear? When was I less by dying? — Rumi Being deprived of a dream is much more cruel than simply being shot and dismissed. — George Saliba  ...

Ruin Marble by Arkady Martine

“Ruin Marble” – Illustration by Anju Shah. Medium: White glass marking pencil on black pastel sheet. Spring was late. Two, three weeks at least: April already and every tree barren, scoured and hesitant with the memory of snowbanks. The sorcerer...

Axes on Viola

An intriguing short story from the award-winning Czech science fiction and fantasy writer Jaroslav Mostecký The tree yelled in a premonition of death and the sky stormed. Seal was startled and dropped the lamp on the ground. I swore and looked furiously at him. “What...

La Gorda and the City of Silver

I. I was born on a Wednesday, in middle of a chapuzón. The sudden squall of sky water bears little resemblance to a thunderstorm – it’s more like a vertical flood, though very brief. I considered Chapuzón for my luchador name – I had poured out of my mother with...

American Moat

Hamilton — everyone called him Ham — had fully bought into the bacon-as-fashion fad. That night as he patrolled the Arizona border with Alex, his ensemble featured a bacon wristwatch, bacon suspenders, bacon bolo tie, and bacon boots branded with the image of a pig...

Winds That Stir Vermilion Sands

2370 Seven-year-old Rodrigo ben-David sat alone in the hovel, spooning the last bit of last Shabbat’s chamin into his mouth and using a hard bit of crust to scrape the pot clean. The thin, cold wind rattled the aluplaz walls mercilessly. Winters in the Hellas Region...