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This month, we e have original fiction from Damien Angelica Walters (“The Judas Child”) and Caspian Gray (“King of Ashland County”), along with reprints by Tim Lebbon (“Reconstructing Amy”) and Nancy Etchemendy (“Honey in the Wound”). Over on our column on horror, “The H Word” we’re exploring holiday horror, and of course we’ll have author spotlights with our authors, a showcase on our cover artist, and a feature interview with author Kim Liggett.
Cover art by Kerem Beyit
A kid in a baseball cap and a Ninja Turtles t-shirt is sitting on the park bench, swinging his legs. The boy stands off to the side until he’s sure there are no grown-ups nearby, and then he flops down on the bench, hiding his misshapen left hand while pretending to pick a scab from his knee with the other. Turtle leans forward, the hat’s brim turning his eyes to shadow. The boy guesses he’s eight, maybe, or close enough. Not too skinny either. The monster doesn’t like it when they’re skinny.
Monsters are always fun to write about, right? Of a surety, the world is full of them. […] It didn’t take long for the story to take shape, but when I realized where it was going and the underlying metaphor, I almost didn’t write it.
Be sure to read the Editorial for all our news and updates, as well as a run-down of this month’s content.
Sometimes life changes without letting anyone know. It’s said that a child becomes an adult when he or she recognises the fact of their inevitable death. And perhaps the process of death begins when the realisation that a partner is never, ever coming back first strikes home.
[The inspiration] was the idea of dolls and how different people imbue them with different meanings. Some people will look at a doll and think it’s cute, others that it’s horrific. I liked the idea of a grieving man finding solace in the strangest of places. Grief can do peculiar things to you.
Christmastime. Cold white snow outside, warmth from a glowing fire and loved ones inside. A tree beaming with decorations and tinsel. Brightly wrapped presents beneath. A veritable feast of turkey and all the trimmings. The hope of a new year ahead and treasured memories of the year coming to an end. And somewhere, lurking in the shadows, a vicious murderer in a Santa Claus suit, wielding a blood-soaked axe . . .
Uncle Reggie couldn’t afford to fly to Ireland to find a selkie wife, so instead he drove across the country to Carmel-by-the-Sea and came back with a selkie queer. I was fifteen then, and so ready to get out of Perrysville that California sounded like paradise.
I get bored sometimes, because selkies are almost always women who spend their long periods of captivity in relative passivity. My favorite selkie women burn down houses and murder fishermen to get back to the sea. People still resist seeing men in damsel roles, so male selkies are rare. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of a single butch selkie of any gender, which would be a delight.
Kerem Beyit is a Turkish illustrator, whose work has been featured by Wizards of the Coast, Disney, Paizo Publishing, Blizzard Entertainment, Lucasarts, Simone & Schuster, and many others. Drawing has been a passion of his ever since he could remember. In his homeland, art is not perceived to be a way to earn a living, therefore it took a while for him to adopt his passion professionally, but since 2004 he has been working in a very disciplined fashion. Book covers, character design and fantasy-themed illustrations in general make up the bulk of his works. Learn more at kerembeyit.daportfolio.com.
For the better part of my life, I have borne the circumstances of Avery Channing’s death in silence, at first because I wished to forget them, later because I doubted anyone would believe the truth, and later still because I feared I might suffer eternal damnation for my part in the whole terrible business. But time has worked a certain alchemy.
I had to mull over ideas for a long time before I settled on one I liked. I had just read an article about the curative properties of raw honey, and particularly its ability to aid in the healing of wounds. So that was probably the actual seed. It’s a real thing, by the way. Raw honey is legendary for its ability to cure stubborn wounds, and now there’s scientific evidence to support that folk remedy.
[The book required] years and years of research, much of which I never had the opportunity to use, but it was vital to the process. I delved into alchemy, sacred geography, the Quivira and their language—I even got a chance to read a transcript of Coronado’s journal from the expedition. The truth is more fantastic than anything I could ever come up with.
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