This is how it is: We who live on the edge of the Heap are different. Harper’s arms are no more than nimble flippers that sprout exposed bone. Zora’s skin blisters from the sunlight, while Ernest cannot raise his medicine ball sized head—he only lolls it. They cannot of course talk, so I talk for them, and I talk to them. We bronzer children of the golden class are a motley litter of rejects, everyone knows.
Read MoreWaste
An interview with this month's featured author.
Read MoreInterview with Author John Hornor Jacobs
The driver scuttles out, black suit, black shades, white shirt, black tie—a caricature of driver. He looks at the house and shifts his shoulders as if a personal expectation has been fulfilled. He moves to the rear passenger door, opens it. A woman emerges, back straight, face blank. She’s older than Renie, younger than Victoria, but everyone is younger than Victoria.
Read MoreLuminariaWelcome to issue 94!
Read MoreWords from the Editor-in-ChiefReviews of stories portraying tension between the self and the other, suspicion, distrust, but also healing and hope.
Read MoreWords for Thought #10The Manila Times predicted March 30th would be a scorcher, the hottest day so far this year. The aswang called it a perfect opportunity to hunt and went to pack the cargo van.
Read MoreServant of the AswangAn interview with our cover artist.
Read MoreInterview with Adrian Borda
Barely a sliver of skin was left exposed to the sun’s glare, but there was a whisper in the back of her mind that it didn’t really matter anymore. It didn’t matter if she had soft and beautiful skin, because the God in the Pit had made his decision and never unmade them.
Read MoreYou Too Shall Be PsycheAn interview with the creator of the podcast drama LifeAfter.
Read MoreLifeAfter: Interview with Podcast Playwright Mac Rogers