22 Dec 2025
Every few years, my face erupts in a frenzy of eyes.
15 Dec 2025
Now that I am back in our homelands, I am haunted. I dream of faces hovering over me, taking my blood. They suck at my veins like infants at a bottle.
1 Dec 2025
I watch the salmon and the dog dance together, alive and dead and still kicking, kicking, kicking.
10 Nov 2025
We deposit the hip shards in the tin can my mother reserves for these incidents. It is a recycled red bean paste can. If you lean in and sniff, you can still smell the red bean paste. There is a larger tomato sauce can for larger bones. That can has been around longer and the tomato sauce smell has washed out. I have considered buying my mother a special bone bag, a medical-grade one lined with regrowth powder to speed up the regeneration process, but I know it would likely sit, unused, in the bottom drawer of her nightstand where she keeps all the gifts she receives and promptly forgets.
3 Nov 2025
After my mother died, Dr. Rostrow called to ask me if I wanted anything out of her brain.
20 Oct 2025
Leah is queer community. Leah is expanding and expansive. Leah wants to fall in love with everyone still alive in this room and beyond and be their bottom for a night, just one night, though she wouldn’t say no to more than one. Leah wants to love the queers she’s never going to fall in love with because they’re not her type. Leah wants to love and bottom. Leah just wants America to leave her the fuck alone.
13 Oct 2025
When I started at Optionality, they put me in a cramped condo with three other newish employees, one of whom insisted on assigning each roommate a different burner on the stove. I was the last to move in, so I got the smallest burner, which means I no longer make pasta.
29 Sep 2025
Going through the archives of Strange Horizons for this special column has been a bit like exploring a treasure chamber. I’ve picked fifty stories. I could have picked hundreds. Meaning: I left a lot of wonderful fiction off the list. But the good thing is that the archives are easy to access for anyone. Just enter the year you want to look at, hit GO and there you are: twenty-five years of outstanding short fiction, as well as poetry and non-fiction, at your fingertips.
1 Sep 2025
I ended up on Pluto on the night of my nineteenth birthday, after breaking my own stupid heart. It wasn’t even over anything important.
25 Aug 2025
When was the first time you realized you were this beautiful? yells the stylist and I look into the eye of the camera and think of diamonds on the surface of a dark green sea, songs of the deep in my ear, the lick of salt on my lips.