Welcome to Issue #142 of Nightmare Magazine!
If you’re an American, it’s not easy to think of July without thinking of Independence Day—although to be fair, I somehow never call the holiday by its real name. It’s the “4th of July,” as if fireworks and aggressive displays of nationalism are the essence of the date itself and not a quirk of a particular nation-state. And while I’m not a particularly patriotic person, this time of year I often find myself thinking about the founding of my country, its moments of idealism and surprising goodness, its inhumane treatment of peoples of many identities, and the way it’s unfurled its cultural and political tentacles across the face of the globe.
Goddamn, what a complicated mess.
I’m not a historian. I’m not a political scientist or a sociologist or even someone who reads the news every day. I can’t explain or even begin to fathom the tangled mess of -isms afflicting my nation and my planet. I am a writer and editor of speculative fiction and what I know, what I deeply and profoundly know, is that none of this had to happen this way. That there can and ought to be other worlds than this.
This issue is all about other worlds—for good, for bad, and for pure horror.
We’re kicking off the issue with a new short story from Thomas Ha: “Grottmata,” which blends science fiction and horror into a scathing (and wonderfully gross!) critique of imperialism. Fans of the newest season of True Detective will find much to enjoy in this tale. Megan Chee takes us backstage at Singapore’s legendary Haw Par Villa theme park in her eerie story “The Museum of Cosmic Retribution,” where a boy learns of crime and punishment from far beyond our own reality. Our flash story, “Automaton Boy” (by Sara S. Messenger), explores the future of border xenophobia. For poetry, we veer to a more magical world with “Phantom Taste of Apricot on My Tongue” by Richard Leis.
Our nonfiction includes a meditation on Poe’s “The Raven” by Donyae Coles (the latest installment of our de•crypt•ed critical review column) and an H Word essay by RSL about the contentification of horror. We also have spotlight interviews with our short fiction writers.
This issue won’t solve the world’s problems or make your annoying neighbor stop setting off bottle rockets at three in the morning, scaring the shit out of your dog. That’s not what fiction, even horror fiction, is capable of doing. Horror is the place where we come to rehydrate our souls and find the strength to carry our burdens into the future. It can give you a place to reflect, to take shelter, and to remind you that this world could be different.
Now that is worth celebrating.
