Apex Magazine Issue 139: Apex Magazine, #139

By Jason Sizemore

Strange. Surreal. Shocking. Beautiful.

 

APEX MAGAZINE is a digital dark science fiction and fantasy genre zine that features award-winning short fiction, essays, and interviews. Established in 2009, our fiction has won several Hugo and Nebula Awards.

 

We publish every other month.

 

Issue 139 contains the following short stories, essays, reviews, and interviews.

 

EDITORIAL
Musings from Maryland by Lesley Conner

 

ORIGINAL SHORT FICTION
The Monster Fucker Club by A.V. Greene
Dolly Girl by Christopher Rowe
Island Circus by Amal Singh
But I Loved You by Sachiko Ragosta
The Discarded Ones by Linda Niehoff
The Magazine of Horror by Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki

 

FLASH FICTION
Gim of P by Benjamin DeHaan
You and Me and The End by Mona West

 

CLASSIC FICTION
A Young Zombie in Crisis by Walidah Imarisha
You Without Me by Endria Isa Richardson

 

NONFICTION
Outside of Language: Genndy Tartakovsky's Primal by Andrea Johnson
Renfield: Blood is the Life (But Only if Necessary) by Rick Hipson

 

INTERVIEWS
Interview with Author A.V. Greene by Marissa van Uden
Interview with Author Sachiko Ragosta by Marissa van Uden
Interview with Cover Artist Lauren Raye Snow by Bradley Powers

• Language: English
• Publisher: Apex Book Company
• Release date: Jul 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223276401

Jason Sizemore

Jason Sizemore is a writer and editor who lives in Lexington, KY. He owns Apex Publications, an SF, fantasy, and horror small press, and has twice been nominated for the Hugo Award for his editing work on Apex Magazine. Stay current with his latest news and ramblings via his Twitter feed handle @apexjason.

Book preview

Apex Magazine

APEX MAGAZINE

ISSUE 139

A.V. GREENE CHRISTOPHER ROWE AMAL SINGH SACHIKO RAGOSTA LINDA NIEHOFF OGHENECHOVWE DONALD EKPEKI BENJAMIN DEHAAN MONA WEST WALIDAH IMARISHA ENDRIA ISA RICHARDSON ANDREA JOHNSON RICK HIPSON

Edited by

JASON SIZEMORE

Edited by

LESLEY CONNER

CONTENTS

Editorial

Editorial

Lesley Conner

Original Fiction

The Monster Fucker Club

A.V. Greene

Dolly Girl

Christopher Rowe

Island Circus

Amal Singh

But I Loved You

Sachiko Ragosta

The Discarded Ones

Linda Niehoff

The Magazine of Horror

Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki

Flash Fiction

Gim of P

Benjamin DeHaan

You Me and The End

Mona West

Classic Fiction

A Young Zombie in Crisis

Walidah Imarisha

You Without Me

Endria Isa Richardson

Nonfiction

Outside of Language: Genndy Tartakovsky’s Primal

Andrea Johnson

Renfield: Blood is the Life (But Only if Necessary)

Rick Hipson

Interviews

Interview with Author A.V. Greene

Marissa van Uden

Interview with Author Sachiko Ragosta

Marissa van Uden

Interview with Artist Lauren Raye Snow

Bradley Powers

Miscellaneous

Subscriptions

Patreon

The Apex Magazine Team

Copyright

Stay Connected

EDITORIAL

EDITORIAL

1,000 WORDS

LESLEY CONNER

Welcome to Apex Magazine issue 139.

This issue is full of messy relationships and difficult feelings. I love stories with this type of complexity. Stories where readers can see themselves in the characters and can empathize when a decision needs to be made, but none of the choices are good. I think it gives us all a chance to grant ourselves and those around us a little more grace, because these stories remind us that we’re all human and life is messy.

The issue opens with The Monster Fucker Club by A.V. Greene, which is a complicated story about teenage girls dealing with their reality by sleeping with monsters. In a world teetering on the edge of a climate disaster, full of angry people who would rather protect our youth from library books than from AR-15s, is it wrong to seek comfort and self-worth in the arms of a monster? This isn’t an easy question to answer, because yes, it’s dangerous and makes the girls weird to their peers, but their monsters are loyal and make them feel good and alive, if only for a few minutes. I invite you to read this story and then sit with it before passing judgment.

Christopher Rowe’s Dolly Girl tells the story of Constance Faraday. A young woman who, like generations of women in her family, was born with a Whisper Girl around her neck. She’s always there and even though Connie knows that she lies, she can’t help but listen to the Whisper Girl’s constant whispers. Whispers telling Connie to do terrible things—encouraging her to blind men and cause women to become barren. Connie resists, but will she be able to forever? When a woman shows up at Connie’s apartment claiming she can help Connie get rid of the Whisper Girl, things start to get weird.

Amal Singh returns to Apex Magazine with a cli-fi story titled Island Circus. In a water-ravaged world where most people live in floating blocks of homes called socs, being dependable and fitting in are very important. But the narrator’s sibling isn’t interested in fitting in and being like everyone else. They don’t want to waste their time struggling just to keep afloat. They want to be a Ringmaster and run away with the Island Circus. This story explores complicated sibling relationships where one sibling feels the need to cover for and make excuses for the other, all while feeling a sense of resentment and not understanding why their sibling can’t just go along with everyone else. It’s a beautiful story in an unfamiliar landscape where learning to be true to yourself is a process that can take a lifetime.

Sometimes when we finally get out of a toxic, abusive relationship, we spend a lot of time wondering about what could have been, what we could have done differently to make our abuser treat us better, trying to pinpoint exactly when things started to go so wrong. Sachiko Ragosta explores these feelings of trying to fix a hopelessly broken relationship in But I Loved You by giving their protagonist the ability to create a new and improved version of their girlfriend Ryoko—Ryoko 2.0—built from photographs, videos, and memories. Unfortunately, broken relationships aren’t easy to fix, no matter how hard you try.

On the surface, The Discarded Ones by Linda Niehoff seems like a pretty straightforward story. You can adopt ghosts that need loving homes until they pass on. It even has a Sarah McLachlan/SPCA-esque sad commercial. But if you dig a little deeper, The Discarded Ones is so much more. This story deals with the effects of growing up with an emotionally distant parent. It deals with loneliness, depression, and the need for a cozy space that makes you feel safe. This story deals with acceptance. Not the acceptance of others, so much as the acceptance of yourself and seeing the value you bring to the world. It is beautiful and emotional, and I hope you love it just as much as I do.

The Magazine of Horror is Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki’s first published flash fiction piece, documenting the submission of a story to a magazine that claims to publish the best horror story ever written. There are a lot of rumors surrounding this publication, and as the author corresponds with the editors, the validity of these rumors becomes all too clear.

Our two regular flash fiction stories this issue are Gim of P by Benjamin DeHaan, a weird sci-fi story written for the purification theme and You and Me and The End by Mona West, an apocalyptic story written for the rain theme.

Our classic fiction stories this issue are by Endria Isa Richardson and Walidah Imarisha. Endria brings us an emotionally driven story that is sure to break your heart. Walidah gives us a brief break from the intensity of the rest of the issue with an entertaining zombie tale that has a great twist.

Our nonfiction essays this month are by Andrea Johnson and Rick Hipson. Andrea explores storytelling outside of language by examining Genndy Tartakovsky's cartoon Primal. Rick delves into the intricacies of the character Renfield in Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

Marissa van Uden conducted our author interviews with A.V. Greene and Sachiko Ragosta. Both authors bring fantastic insight into their stories, their motivations for writing them, and the process of getting them on the page. Bradley Powers chatted with cover artist Lauren Raye Snow about her process and the importance of representation in art.

I hope that when you get to the end of this issue, you have allowed yourself to experience the big emotions these stories deal with and realize that you aren’t alone. Relationships can be hard. Emotions can be messy. And sometimes we make decisions that feel good in the moment, but aren’t right for us in the long term. That’s okay. Give yourself the space to make mistakes and to figure out what kind of person you want to be in this world.

Until next time, yours in reading,

Lesley Conner

Co-Editor-in-Chief

ORIGINAL FICTION

THE MONSTER FUCKER CLUB

2,400 WORDS

A.V. GREENE

Content warnings ¹

For Julie, it was the cryptid out in the woods behind our old elementary school. Wings, red eyes. Yes, Julie came back knowing exactly when everyone she loved was going to die, but it was worth it, she told us.

The six of us—well, five after Sophie left—were friends because we all understood why she kept going back, again and again.

It was different for each of us, though. For Chrissy, it was the faceless monster that took her under the risers in the choir room during fifth period, when the windowless room was dark and empty. As long as she kept her eyes shut, it was excruciatingly good, she said. He had the voice of an Angel and sang to her while it happened.

For Liv, it was a dead guy who lived in her bedroom mirror. Maybe a demon. It was a bit unclear. But it wasn’t just the sex, Liv told us shyly. He made her laugh. He turned death into a joke for her. He also put her abusive youth pastor in a psychiatric hospital on a permanent basis, which we all agreed was pretty funny.

Mia joined us a little later junior year with claw marks on her shoulders. Her she-wolf had transformed in the middle of things. But Mia hadn’t wanted to stop, so they didn’t. Afterward, she checked herself for ticks and cleaned the wounds with peroxide. She’s just so loyal, Mia had whispered. I feel so safe with her.

Liv had shrugged. It’s not as weird as Julie’s bug guy, I guess.

Mine was … I don’t know. Not a man. Not a woman. It lived out in the marsh. I’d thought it was a tree at first until it reached out.

It’s a flower? Chrissy asked. Or, like, a tree? Mud monster?

All of the above? I had said uncertainly. What I was certain about was the thrill. I wasn’t sure if it was sex in the human or botanical sense, but it sure as shit had me rooted. Worth the mild skin reaction.

Lest any of this sound too romantic, I should be clear on this point: we were confessing sins to each other, and make no mistake, we were sinners.

Our monsters killed people sometimes.

But this wasn’t the kind of world where that was automatically a bad thing. Like the day Dustin Richards stormed into Chorus II with his uncle’s legally purchased AR-15. Kids started screaming and ducking for cover before he even fired off a shot. In the chaos, apparently no one saw the shrieking Angel emerge and fly at Dustin. Dustin did fire his weapon, but no one got hit.

Tore his face off, Chrissy said matter-of-factly. Like it was a veil or something.

Monsters, yes. But at least ours were loyal.

There were the expected candlelight vigils. Some kids went to the state capital. Nothing happened, which was its own brand of add-on trauma. We all just notched it on our belts and kept going, because what other options were there?

We didn’t talk much outside of our unofficial support group sessions. Sure, we ran into each other from time to time, had the same classes. Most of us showed up for the walkout when the school board made the library pull a bunch of books. Mia didn’t, but we understood. Her dad was really scary, and she would have been in the kind of trouble you don’t just walk away from. We all privately hoped she’d gain the nerve to sic her wolf on him someday.

Then there was the time Julie came back from the woods with red-rimmed eyes and told us all we had to get out of town that weekend. We made up stories about spending the night at each other’s houses and rented a cabin out in the state national park. An EF5 tornado churned through town while we were gone in a freak January thunderstorm. Fifteen casualties in all. Of course, they may not all have been tornado victims. Several of the bodies were found in the high school, and we suspected the Angel may have been involved.

On our drive back to town, we listened to news about the storm, and the damage done, not only to property but to the Clarksdale Wetlands State Park, where ancient cypresses and tupelos that pre-dated the Declaration of Independence had been felled.

After we got back and I dealt with my tearful parents, I ran out to the swamp. My monster was hurt and angry, but still there. My monster wanted revenge for its lost trees.

But I was just a junior in high school, and there wasn’t much I could do to help beyond witnessing.

I guess I could have warned the development company that tried to put in a car wash next to my monster’s swamp in the months that followed, but no one would have believed me, and anyway, they all would have died just the same.

We wondered why we were like this, of course. Sometimes we tried to be less weird and do normal kid things, but it felt forced and uncomfortable. At least we understood each other, even if no one else in the world ever could.

Or could they? Was this another fucked-up part of growing up that no one bothered to warn you about? Did everyone have a monster and just hid it better than we could?

Still, we knew it was unhealthy. The rashes, the soreness, the guilt. None of us thought it was a good idea for any of us to keep returning over and over again to our creatures’ arms.

It must be dopamine, Mia whispered gruffly. Her throat was sore from howling at the moon all night, and we all politely ignored the fresh claw marks across her shoulder. We’d wondered if Mia might turn or something after all this. She was with her wolf just about every night and it only seemed like a matter of time before she’d be able to bite back with her own set of murderous canines. Like with nicotine. It gives your brain a hit of something it needs, so it makes you go back for more.

Liv, who’d kept her own tryst last night and smelled a bit like rotten eggs and mold as a result, shrugged. Maybe. But, like, that’s any relationship, right? You lose your mind when you’re in love, with, like, a human.

There