Strange Horizons will open to general fiction submissions on October 1, 2026, at 3 p.m. UTC! This window will remain open until we hit our submission cap of 1,000 stories. Our maximum word count fo…

In the screen glow of the witching hours you see a silhouette flit in and out of the doorway. Your first meme and your first violation.

The guillotine was conceived as swifter, painless, more humane. You touch your throat. You wonder.

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The annual Strange Horizons fundraiser! Support this free, online, award-winning, weekly magazine of SFFH, which runs entirely on reader - YOUR - donations!

Without a name or need for one, he arrives scattered at the base of a tree and he rests like that, in pieces, for sixty-odd years. He is forty-nine sticky droplets of impulse and intelligence, tuck…

The dragons are beautiful even when they’re dead, their serpentine bodies stacked up and up, their metallic blue scales glinting under the sun. This close, Mina can see how blank their eyes are thr…

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By Felix transcript of poem text, for accessibility: hooking up with strange men on edibles is fucking awesome until you’re lying in his bed afterward and you can’t shut up about how much you want …

Breathe. Breathe. Even though you are dead you must breathe— Oh, you are running. I suppose you could run. Run, then, if you never want to know what killed you, and why, and where you are now. For …

Six years ago, during the Covid shutdown, I found myself with a lot of time on my hands and facing the sudden collapse of what I had thought my future would look like. I was living in Pittsburgh at…