Issue #7: Passage
Maryna Bilak, Headache, 2014, plaster, hanger, cloth, 10x16x13". The editors would like to thank Maryna for permission to share her work in issue 7. The editors would also like to thank Garth Evans for curating art for Speculative Nonfiction and introducing us to so many wonderful artists.
Table of Contents
On Mothers, Chickens, and the Thai Alphabet / Max Pasakorn
When I was nine, I saw a trans woman for the first time. I was at my mother's hawker stall, where she sold flavourful Thai dishes to hungry Singaporeans.
Funeral & Its Traditions / Micah Dela Cueva
So still. My Lolo. So dead too. A lizard chills on the ceiling right above his casket.
Ten Reasons / JV Genova
0. Haunted by so many questions, I went for a walk in an unfamiliar town in the hopes I’d find myself.
A swimmer’s passage and indecision / Kendra Tillberry
At the edge of the pool, feet dipped in the water and resting on the ledge, I sit. I hate myself in this moment, like I always do when my feet first feel the cold water.
Next Time / Marin Sardy
The Next Time I Watch The Walking Dead I’ll wait until someone clever is on screen and I’ll press pause and ask them what people do about allergies in the zombie apocalypse.
Each of Us a Portal / heidi andrea restrepo rhodes
At eleven years old, at a sleepover, we tell stories of La Llorona and the Lady in White, the forlorn spirits whose grief drags them around the hills and along the rivers of our hometown.
A Blonde and A Brunette Walk into a Cancer Care Center with Their Big Feet / Laurie Rachkus Uttich
It’s Chemo Day and my sister-in-law Lety and I walk into the center like we own the place.
The Blackest Light: A History of Helium, Helios and Henry Smith / Isaiah Rivera
We are concerned with light. Whether it be artificial or natural, spectral or spiritual, light consumes the whole of our existences.
FELICITY ACE FALLS OVER & SINKS, TUESDAY 9am / Shena McAuliffe
In February, Felicity Ace was speeding across the bright Atlantic south of the Azores when somewhere in her cargo hold (no one saw it happen) a spark ignited and grew into a flame.
EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT COMPOSTING YOU LEARNT FROM WATCHING A 38 HOUR LONG FILM, AND EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT BEING ALIVE YOU LEARNT FROM COMPOSTING / By Jaimee Edwards
It is patient work, this composting. It is much more than collecting your food scraps.
My bullet, He’s Come Home. / By Georgie Fehringer
It’s a level of bone-deep exhaustion running on fight or flight for half of your life. I go to the club and I dance.