Apparition Lit, Issue 3: Vision (July 2018)

By ApparitionLit

Welcome to Apparition Literary Magazine. As the third issue of our magazine, our theme is VISION, we wanted stories about your Cassandras, your truth-tellers and madmen. This issues explores visions of the future, the past, and any lingering misdeeds.

EDITORIAL
*A Word from Our Editor by Clarke Doty
SHORT FICTION
*Where Dead Men Go to Dream by A.C. Wise
*They Are Still Building It by C.S. Malerich
*The Lady of Light by Jason A. Zwiker
*Phantasm by Magdi Hazaa
*Visionary by Rhonda Eikamp
POETRY
*The Beasts of Late Winter by Casey Reinhardt
*Virtuality by Lynne Sargent
ESSAY
*The Horror of the Unseen by Rebecca Bennett
*Artist Interview: Honeycomb with Julie Dillon by Rebecca BennettApparition Lit is a quarterly speculative fiction magazine that features short stories and poetry. We publish original content with enough emotional heft to break a heart, with prose that’s as clear and delicious as broth.

New issues will be published each January, April, July, October.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ApparitionLit
• Release date: Jul 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463417249

ApparitionLit

Apparition Lit is a quarterly speculative fiction magazine that features short stories and poetry. We publish original content with enough emotional heft to break a heart, with prose that’s as clear and delicious as broth. Every issue of Apparition Lit includes:*Editorial from the staff*Four short stories that meet the quarterly theme*Two poems that meet the quarterly theme*Interview with the Cover Artist*Nonfiction EssayNew issues will be published each January, April, July, October.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Editorial

A Word from Our Editor by Clarke Doty

Short Fiction and Poetry

They Are Still Building It by C.S. Malerich

The Lady of Light by Jason A. Zwiker

Virtuality by Lynne Sargent

Phantasm by Magdi Hazaa

Visionary by Rhonda Eikamp

The Beasts of Late Winter by Casey Reinhardt

Reprint

Where Dead Men Go to Dream by A.C. Wise

Interview

Artist Interview: Honeycomb with Julie Dillon

Essay

The Horror of the Unseen by Rebecca Bennett

Thank You

Thank You to Our Sponsors

Past Issues

A Word from Our Editor

by Clarke Doty

I tried to come up with some jokes for the third editorial. I really did.

Third time’s a charm… something something magic and speculative fiction… [insert embarrassingly terrible magic pun here].

Third issue… Third date… Putting out on the third date… Oh gods NO.

So many cringe-worthy attempts.

I wanted to bring you an editorial of the light n’ breezy variety. Corny jokes and whimsy. Even puns.

Why? Because poor personal coping skills, if I’m being honest. I tend to make jokes in the worst of times, when I’m uncomfortable or uncertain. (My own child once lovingly described me to another adult as the mom who doesn’t know when NOT to tell a joke. It’s true.)

The world is a mess. So many terrible things are happening. It’s easy to feel all sorts of despairing and impotent these days, and sitting down to write an editorial seemed extra ridiculous and self-indulgent.

I felt guilty putting effort into making words that weren’t going to help anybody. Nothing I have to say here is going to reunite families ripped apart at the border, or free children in cages, or stop the murdering of unarmed POC, or prevent the next school shooting.

But the stories and poems of this issue aren’t self-indulgent. They’re necessary. Fiction can be beautiful escapism, or it can shine a light on important truths, and both are worthy pursuits.

The Apparition Lit team are really proud to bring you our Vision issue:

They Are Still Building It by C.S. Malerich and Visionary by Rhonda Eikamp are powerful examples of when fiction combines fantastical and real world horrors.

Phantasm by Magdi Hazaa and The Lady of Light by Jason A. Zwiker are both evocative, dreamlike stories to get lost in.

Where Dead Men Go to Dream by A.C. Wise is a reprint story our editors fell in love with because it uniquely fits our vision theme.

Poems The Beasts of Late Winter by Casey Reinhardt and Virtuality by Lynne Sargent are filled with stunning, visceral imagery.

Essay The Horrors of the Unseen by Rebecca Bennett about how media exploits vision to deliver effective scares.

Interview with cover artist Julie Dillon about her artistic vision.

We hope you enjoy the third issue and maybe even find a little solace inside its virtual pages.

Apparition Literary Magazine is funded by the editors and by your kind donations. If you’d like to support us, you can follow us on Facebook or Twitter and please consider donating and/or subscribing via our website. Our 2019 goal is to increase pay from .01 cent a word to the professional payment of .06 a word.

Thank you for reading,

Clarke Doty

They Are Still Building It

by C.S. Malerich

The first time I saw the sludge was in our apartment bathroom. Standing in front of the sink, flossing my teeth, listening to NPR on the shower radio—

... According to climatologists, February was the hottest month on record—

I lost the end of the headline, because a noxious smell filled up my nostrils, and there it was, reflected in the bottom corner of the mirror. A smear across the floor behind me.

I turned around. It was seeping up between the tiles and from the grout along the base of the tub. Thick, like coagulated blood, and rapidly spreading over the floor. I covered my nose from the smell like burning rubber. I couldn't let it touch me. My feet were bare.

Kat found me standing on the sink, balancing with one foot along the edge of the basin and one wedged behind the faucet, and my back pressed into the corner. I didn't remember climbing up there. All I knew was her shocked face and her voice shouting over the newscast.

Nonie, what's wrong?

Don't touch it! I shouted back.

Touch what?

She was right. I'd looked from the floor to Kat's face for a split second, and when I looked back, it was clean bathroom tile again.

That was worse.

I couldn't know whether to trust her eyes or my sinuses, my memory or her voice. It felt like a feint, to get me back down. When Kat offered me her hand, I shook my head.

She needed to brush her teeth and do a final hair check, which she could have done with me standing there. Instead she clicked the radio off, sat on the toilet, and talked to me calmly and rationally, until I came down on my own.

After, she held me for a good long time, stroking my hair and telling me it was all right, it was my imagination. Until the terror faded long enough for me to put on my scrubs and leave for the clinic.

We were just twenty-two when Kat and I met, but already she was a powerhouse, someone who could back down men three times her age with just the force of her confidence. I always knew she'd be calm in a crisis.

That night she told the downstairs neighbors we had a minor plumbing issue, and did they mind if we used their bathroom? They didn't. But the next morning I still couldn't go into our bathroom without shaking. For Kat, no problem. We'd just spend a few days at her parents' in Montclair.

By the time we'd packed the Xterra, I wanted to agree with her that it was my imagination. It had felt so real, though—the burning rubber smell that stung my nose. When we got to the in-laws, I asked to borrow shower shoes. I couldn't stand letting my bare feet touch the tile.

After three days, my stomach began to unclench and I could think about returning to our apartment.

Anyway, it wasn't convenient to stay there. I could take the train to work, but Kat had to leave an extra hour earlier to make it to her office on time. She told me it didn't matter. But there was also our privacy to consider, and her parents' concerned looks.