Apex Magazine
As long as I’ve been publicly writing exploratory fiction, I’ve struggled to answer a casual question often set in front of me from outside of the genre: Social change or...
Escapism is a Lie
As long as I’ve been publicly writing exploratory fiction, I’ve struggled to answer a casual question often set in front of me from outside of the genre: Social change or...
At the viewing window, Elara and I float together, looking out to the long-dead planet. We’ve travelled for weeks to find something like this—not the planet, but its ring, swirling...
A Ring Around
At the viewing window, Elara and I float together, looking out to the long-dead planet. We’ve travelled for weeks to find something like this—not the planet, but its ring, swirling...
Light the menorah. When the candles extinguish themselves, lick the hot wax from the metal, until it is shiny and clean. Pick up a knife and make an incision across...
The Kingdom of Wax
Light the menorah. When the candles extinguish themselves, lick the hot wax from the metal, until it is shiny and clean. Pick up a knife and make an incision across...
The meadow brims with wild roses and honeysuckle. His grip tightens, turning the picnic into murder. He abandons you here, thinking the forest will consume the evidence. We could swallow...
Where the Flowers Bloom So Fair
The meadow brims with wild roses and honeysuckle. His grip tightens, turning the picnic into murder. He abandons you here, thinking the forest will consume the evidence. We could swallow...
She is at the bottom of the trail, and she is going to save her father. The dirt beneath her soft summer shoes is more like dust. The rocks lining...
The Ferns and the Fiddleheads
She is at the bottom of the trail, and she is going to save her father. The dirt beneath her soft summer shoes is more like dust. The rocks lining...
There are fairytales about love, of devotion that runs so deep that it can bring back someone from beyond the veil of death. This is not one of those. “Chị...
Interview with Author Natasha King
There are fairytales about love, of devotion that runs so deep that it can bring back someone from beyond the veil of death. This is not one of those. “Chị...
I crawl out of the persimmon, and it isn’t pretty. A grown woman unfolding from a fruit that could fit into your hand: sinew restringing itself, organs inflating, nails clawing...
Chị Tấm is Tired of Being Dead
I crawl out of the persimmon, and it isn’t pretty. A grown woman unfolding from a fruit that could fit into your hand: sinew restringing itself, organs inflating, nails clawing...