This issue is devoted to the feeling of discovering a slug in one’s bed, or stepping barefooted on a small tarantula, or emptying the cereal box only to discover a pantry moth larva creeping over the last bran flake. It’s the “Unpleasant Discoveries” issue, and every story has something nasty in store for you. If you’re ready to be horrified, revolted, and generally miserable, our writers have you covered!

One of my favorite video games is Mad Max. While the action in the game is not based on the films, the universe is, and George Miller was consulted on some of the finer points of the worldbuilding. It’s a game about exploring and surviving in a post-apocalyptic desert dotted with the wreckage of shipyards and sunken ships. The dust plume trailing your muscle car was, in fact, once the silt at the bottom of the ocean. Like most entries in the Mad Max franchise, there’s some pointed social criticism going on.

Some days I look at the news and I think “Holy crap, why do I write and publish horror when the headlines are worse than anything we writers put on a page?” I could list today’s tragedies, but I’m sure you will think of newer, fresher ones. Depending on the shape or color of your body, depending on where you live, your vision of horror will look different from mine—but we will both think of nasty, horrible things that are happening all the time.

The last few summers here in Oregon have been pretty lousy. We’ve had wildfires, riots, threats against our governor’s life, and of course, a nightmarish heat dome that killed seventy people here in Portland. For those of us who once enjoyed summer for outdoor adventures, berry-picking, and Vitamin D production, summer has been transformed into a horror villain.

Some stories are impossible to write when you’re too close to the events that inspire them. Your feelings can be so huge that they overpower fascinating situations or wonderful settings. There are places and events in my life I’ve tried to write about that simply refuse to be transformed into words. Despite my impatient nature, I’m learning to wait for time to rub the rough edges down so I can get a better grip on the material.

A few days ago I was writing something about the 1980s, and a bit of mental math made me stop in my tracks. Somehow, despite all the birthdays I’ve celebrated over the years, I hadn’t put it together that the ’80s are now forty years ago. Yes, Fast Times at Ridemont High is officially middle aged, as is The Thing, Poltergeist, Beastmaster, and The Dark Crystal.

Welcome to Nightmare’s 114th issue! Thank you for joining us in our uneasy corner of the world. Pull up a chair and rest yourself. I’m sure you’re tired. Aren’t we all tired these days? Maybe it’s the kind of tired that makes you lean against the wall in the afternoon, your legs like sacks of sand, heavy but formless, your spine pulled low by their weight. Maybe it’s the kind of tired that makes you wake in the night and find yourself breathless.

Welcome to Nightmare’s 113th issue! I can’t believe I’ve been writing these editorials for an entire year now. Looking back over the past twelve issues, I’m so proud of our staff and our amazing writers. What a terrific bunch! I can’t wait to see what we’ll put together for you in our next orbit around the sun.

Welcome to Nightmare’s 112th issue! And welcome to the new year. We have no idea what 2022 will be like, but if it follows the trend of the last seven or eight years, it will probably be totally and completely f*cked up. And without further ado, that’s the theme of this month’s issue. I know, […]

If you’re in the northern hemisphere, welcome to winter. Winter, that long dark season of hardship and despair. It is a season that strips life from the world around us and leaves our bodies enervated and fragile. Even in our modern era, we can’t help but feel exposed in these harsh months. There’s a reason humanity turns to history and ritual in this time—we desperately need the reminder that we have faced the cold before.