THE MAGICAL NEGRO—It’s easy to believe that this trope came from a good place or at least rose out of benign neglect. After all, a white writer is “writing what they know” or appealing to their target demographic, which is typically people like them…

The voices begin three days before someone is to die. The coffin-maker wakes up covered in sweat. He has been talking in his sleep again, his wife says, in the language of the dead. He looks at her under the waning light of the candle. Edna’s face i…

I meet with the other pregnant men on Thursdays. Our room at the civic center is between the recovering alcoholics and cancer survivors. We’re currently at eleven, now that Wallace shot himself. The room tries to look like it’s for any ol’ support g…

In the morning, when the fog lies thick and heavy on the water, I sit at my workbench and seed the next simulant. It takes fourteen double-C commands to move the digital embryo into the simulation tank and begin the process. The tank thrums to life …

It knows all my secrets, all my weaknesses. On a good day, when the sun is shining, the offering plates are filled with honey and I have enough candles for my circle to hold, the angels keep it at bay. Not that I can summon anything higher than a me…

I ascend during the church picnic. My thighs peel off the plastic bench with a crisp smack, and I’m two feet into the air before I understand what is happening. I flip a foldout table, clawing for purchase. Potato salad and peach cobbler spill onto …

Since the onset of my symptoms, I’ve been saving the last pages in the leather-bound notebook you gifted me—for this suicide note. I neglected to foresee how terrible my handwriting might be when the moment came, so please forgive my chicken scratch…

The problem, of course, is that the world ended. She’s lying in her bed, staring at the sloping scribbles on the ceiling. Downstairs, the party continues as ever. Voices rise from the parlor at all hours of the night, beckoning her with wild words s… The Edge of Things | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2kuq3TP

6,300 Words “Sit here.” He pulls out a thin panel from the front of his kiosk, punches it into the third dimension, then into its secondary function as a chair, and places it in front of me. “Here’s safe. via Pocket Behind Her, Trailing Like Butterfly Wings | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2iUgw8k

Caroline tucked an unruly strand of coarse brown hair up under her pink knit cap, shrugged the strap of her black violin case back into place over her shoulder, and hurried up the music building stairs. via Pocket While the Black Stars Burn | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2xzoBER

Thistle stepped over an upturned root that twisted from the dark, wet earth. “Mama the river and the tree.” She moved with deliberate grace, each footfall a code that unlocked another hidden key. Wilder should have known. Every other word out of her… Tree of the Forest Seven Bells Turns the World Round Midnight | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2ysAfSb

Translated by Alex Shvartsman. You were thirty-five when you parked your pickup truck in front of that damned diner. A single poor decision that would make you hate yourself for the rest of your life. via Pocket Black Hole Heart | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2ttmfCj

Willie Kennard rode into the town of Duffy dangerously late, looking back over his shoulder at the height of the sun and squinting. He dropped down from the old mare he’d borrowed off Wilson Hayes and hitched her to a post. via Pocket Sundown | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2sWTOgh

Erika’s fingers tense on the steering wheel as she approaches the Kansas-Colorado state line. Endless fields of wheat, waiting to be harvested, sit on both sides of the interstate, the stalks rustling whisper-soft. via Pocket The Whipping Girls | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2LNvshE

“A perm? Not sure la. Those youngsters like their hair like k-pop star, right? Long and straight.” Wing Lin daubs blue along her eyelids, a shimmer of amber. Despite her suggestions, her own hair, thick even in the last years of her sixties, is set … What to Do When It’s Nothing but Static | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2Fdp8vI

Marla and Zufi, the reigning queens of Hell, were eight years into a meaningless spat, living more as roommates than lovers, and as a consequence, Marla was irritable and Zufi was bored. via Pocket Three Petitions to the Queen of Hell | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2ubsK0Z

Ayen ran, her bare feet kicking up a cloud of ash-colored dust across the parched earth. Behind her, the hooves of horses thundered like drums, drawing closer despite her desperate strides. via Pocket Ghost Marriage | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2EJJ8Le

It had metastasized, and my mother’s belly was swollen with tumors. I took care of her because she needed me and I needed her, and also because Father was always at work or visiting his friends or Aunt Diane. I tried to feed my mother. via Pocket Talking to Cancer | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2OVmJM3

Monday. “Pisces. You started showing your hidden skills and people are noticing! Accept the changes that are coming.” The metro train was jerking right and left, accelerating and decelerating, without any kind of recognizable rhythm. via Pocket The Barnum Effect | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2NqPlfe

River Street’s never hard to find; in fact, you’re likely to stumble into it while looking for somewhere else entirely. Once you’re in, though, it’ll seem like a good idea to stay. It’s so easy to keep walking down this pleasant lane, with your face… River Street | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2oVDQlr

I don’t really know why they called me, except that Auntie claims I “speak haole” better than the rest of the family. The guy’s not even in our ‘aumakua—hell, he’s not even in our pantheon. via Pocket Coyote Now Wears a Suit | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2OzcQDw

Every night, the devil sits himself on the lip of her bed and every night, she sighs and whispers the same word over and again. Yes, she murmurs. Yes, yes, of course. via Pocket Bargains by the Slant-Light | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2ybmplV

It’s like poking at an open wound. Every time I read about it, every time I return to it, over and over and over again, I can feel that pain well up. Emotional pain so strong it’s almost physical, you know? And it’s gotten worse since I’ve had kids.… Boy A, Girl A, Slender Man | Apex Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2FeKMoS