From Modern Mythcraft to Magical Surrealism

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Love Laws and a Locked Heart

Princess Nivedita is one year old when a wizard named Yash locks her heart and steals the key. Nobody finds out who Yash is, for they never see him. The King calls for help in carving another key, but none of the keys fit. Nivedita becomes the Princess with the Locked Heart.

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Latest Nonfiction

Interview: SL Huang

One thing I do know, though, is that I don’t really believe in the idea of “breaking in.” Everything’s small steps, the way I see it—some, like a novel publication, larger than others, but everything sort of accumulates, and eventually there’s something other people look at and say, hey, that’s a career-shaped thing. But it’s never felt like that from the inside, for me. I did a bunch of small, individual things, separately, and they’ve sort of lumped together over time.

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And This is How to Stay Alive

Kabi finds my body swinging. I watch my sister press her back against the wall and slide to the ground. My mother shouts, “Kabi! Nyokabi!” No response. “Why are you not answering? Can you bring that brother of yours!” My sister is paralyzed, she cannot speak, she cannot move, except for the shivers that take hold of her spine and reverberate through the rest of her without permission. She is thinking No, no, no, no, no. But the word is not passing her lips which only open and close soundlessly. Mum is coming down the stairs.

things i love about my werewolf girlfriend

She does not shy away from hair, and

An Introduction

Much pain comes from the inability to understand metaphor, so let us state up front that there is no magic door. There are also no magic keys, mirrors, picture frames, or postage stamps. We hope this does not upset you. Remember, there are magic doors everywhere. We see we are speaking too plainly. Let us begin again.

The Secret Ingredient is Always the Same

This is the cure

To Look Forward

We are the ones who dare, back and forth; our hair whipping over, our hearts full of joy. Our bodies burn bright and clean and crisp, glistening when we reach the sun. A healthy tan has coated our skin, our foreheads drip with sweat, our palms firm and slick. We are: over and over again, up in the air; not known to each other, but known to the sky. Mid-jump, mid-action, mid-reaction, mid-air; always there, on rusted swings, on creaking chains, on hot-sun days, back and forth and over, once again.

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Editorial, November 2020

Fantasy Magazine is back! Nearly four years since its last issue, we’re resuming with Issue #61, co-edited by Christie Yant and Arley Sorg.