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    Apex Magazine Issue 101: Apex Magazine, #101
    Apex Magazine Issue 101: Apex Magazine, #101
    Apex Magazine Issue 101: Apex Magazine, #101
    Ebook127 pages1 hour

    Apex Magazine Issue 101: Apex Magazine, #101

    By Jason Sizemore

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    About this ebook

    Apex Magazine is a monthly science fiction, fantasy, and horror magazine featuring original, mind-bending short fiction.

    EDITORIAL
    Words from the Editor-in-Chief—Jason Sizemore

    FICTION
    My Struggle — Lavie Tidhar
    So Sings the Siren — Annie Neugebauer
    Penelope Waits — Dennis Danvers
    The Case of the Mysterious Meat — Kate Ingram
    Tree of the Forest Seven Bells Runs the World Round Midnight — Sheree Renée Thomas
    Haven, Kansas (Novel Excerpt) by Alethea Kontis

    NONFICTION
    Interview with Dennis Danvers — Andrea Johnson
    8-Bit Rage, Black Hole Zion, Industrial Music, and Science Fiction — Ed Grabianowski
    Interview with Cover Artist Rubén Castro — Russel Dickerson

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherApex Publications
    Release dateMay 19, 2022
    ISBN9798201952402
    Apex Magazine Issue 101: Apex Magazine, #101
    Author

    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.

    Read more from Jason Sizemore

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      Book preview

      Apex Magazine Issue 101 - Jason Sizemore

      Apex Magazine

      Issue 101, October 2017

      Dennis Danvers Lavie Tidhar Sheree Renée Thomas Annie Neugebauer Kate Ingram Alethea Kontis

      Edited by

      Jason Sizemore

      Apex Publications

      Contents

      Words from the Editor-in-Chief by Jason Sizemore

      My Struggle by Lavie Tidhar

      So Sings the Siren by Annie Neugebauer

      Sponsor: Taerak’s Void by MR Mathias

      Penelope Waits by Dennis Danvers

      Interview with Dennis Danvers by Andrea Johnson

      Sponsor: Cullom Returns by Sean Michael Stevenson

      The Case of the Mysterious Meat by Kate Ingram

      8-Bit Rage: Black Hole Zion, Industrial Music, and Science Fiction by Ed Grabianowski

      Sponsor: Sapphire of Souls by MR Mathias

      Tree of the Forest Seven Bells Turns the World Round Midnight by Sheree Renée Thomas

      Haven, Kansas (Novel Excerpt) by Alethea Kontis

      Interview with Cover Artist Rubén Castro by Russell Dickerson

      Next Month in Apex Magazine

      Copyrights and Acknowledgments

      Website & Newsletter Info

      Contributor Bios

      From Apex Book Company: Everything That’s Underneath

      Words from the Editor-in-Chief by Jason Sizemore

      October is here and we have some chilling fiction to share with you this month. But first, some big news!

      Apex Magazine will be available as a physical publication beginning with issue 104 (January, 2018). The full announcement can be read here, but the tl;dr version is that via Patreon you will be able to subscribe. Single issues will be sold through Amazon. You can fill out this Google form if you’d like us to contact you when the subscription option on Patreon goes live.

      We have other great news to share, too. November will see the first appearance of a new column titled Page Advice by Mallory O’Meara and Brea Grant (co-hosts of the popular Reading Glasses podcast). One of my favorite recurring bits that Mallory and Brea do on their show is a reader’s advice section, and Page Advice will be a flavor of that. It’s incredible to work with such enthusiastic promoters of reading and literature, and I’m certain their enthusiasm and knowledge will be enjoyed by our readers.

      Also coming in November is Between the Lines by literary agents Laura Zats and Erik Hane (co-hosts of the popular Print Run podcast). They’ll be covering publishing-industry specifics in a manner of interests to readers and fans. They’re erudite. They’re insiders. And they’re entertaining.

      A teacher’s assistant, Anthony Klancar, organizes a student-led writing group at Winton Woods, a school in southern Ohio. He reached out to Apex Magazine to see if we would sponsor and potentially publish the winner of his group’s writing content. The stories would be judged by our editor Maurice Broaddus, former editor Janet Harriett, and legendary dark fantasy author Gary A. Braunbeck.

      I said yes. I would have killed for an opportunity like this when I was in high school.

      The winner was Kate Ingram. Her story The Case of the Mysterious Meat is a fun and pulpy weird-noir piece that leaves a bite. We’ve included a word from Mr. Klancar about the group and the writing competition.

      Congratulations to Kate Ingram! You’re definitely the youngest author we’ve ever published!

      Along with Kate’s story, we have a new alt-history noir short by Lavie Tidhar. My Struggle is set in his A Man Lies Dreaming universe where Adolf Hitler failed to become the leader of Germany and lives a squalid life as a private dick in London. Penelope Waits by Dennis Danvers is a bit more light-hearted, involving alien abductions, classical Greek literature, and one smart country woman.

      So Sings the Siren by Annie Neugebauer is a sci-horror selection that will be wearing a trigger warning for sensitive readers. There is a siren in the story. That is all I choose to give away to this powerful work of fiction.

      Nonfiction includes an interview with author Dennis Danvers and our cover artist Rubén Castro. Ed Grabianowski reviews a scifi album (a first for us...and, no, it isn’t Jeff Wayne’s classic War of the Worlds musical).

      Our reprint this month is by the always amazing Sheree Renée Thomas: Tree of the Forest Seven Bells Turns the World Round Midnight.

      Finally, we have a special treat this month with an excerpt from Alethea Kontis’s novel Haven, Kansas. Alethea is one of the hardworking and sweetest individuals I know. It’s always a pleasure having her in the zine.

      Until next month! And happy Halloween!

      Jason Sizemore

      Editor-in-Chief

      My Struggle by Lavie Tidhar

      7,400 words

      From beyond the ghetto walls come the peal of church bells; pure and clear, clear and pure the sound fills the night above the ghetto, and Shomer and the children stop and listen to it, spellbound in their captivity.

      Beyond the walls, ordinary citizens are on their way to church and then to All Hallows’ feast and celebration. But inside, day turns to night like every other cycle of the world as it spins on its axis. the soldiers with their guns watch over the walls and the Jews inside crowded like so many birds for the slaughter. Only they do not fatten them, here. They starve them, the more efficiently to dispose of, later. And Shomer’s daughter shivers in her thin coat, and he lifts her in his arms, how hard he cradles her as though it is in this way that he could pass to her some warmth, to stave away the onslaught of winter. And Bina listens to the church bells and she smiles, and it breaks Shomer’s heart that she does. And Avrom says, Papa, Papa, when can we go home again?

      And Shomer says nothing.

      They walk on to the Yiddish theatre, held in the hall of the old gymnasium. Shomer pays the price of admission and ushers his children in with the rest. They sit, shivering, on their coats. How much he loves them, he thinks, Avrom, Bina—his children. He remembers each birth, how he paced outside before being allowed in, at last, and how he held, each of them, in his arms, upon this miraculous entry into the world, and he their father, sworn to love and protect them.

      And he thinks, how long do we have, how many days how many hours? For in the ghetto they speak, in hushed tones, of the trains headed east. Resettlement, some say. And others shake their heads and mutter, No, no.

      But now his old friend, Yenkl, comes on stage, draped in a cape, with oversized teeth protruding comically. And the children clap, excited, for tonight on this night of the goyishe day of All Saints, the theatre’s staging a movie. Shomer had seen it once, when there were still cinemas, and he remembers how much he loved it, and he wishes he could escape into the screen of the past, and pull his children after him for safety. The lights dim. I bid you welcome, Yenkl says. And Shomer blinks back, no, not tears, he has none left of those to shed, but something. And he retreats into the only safety he has left, his writer’s mind, nothing but useless fantasy. And he thinks, no, it is only fantasy which is left to us, the dying, for comfort in our final days.

      A cheap tale and only that, an entertainment. We have that, still, as yet.

      And so.

      1.

      His name was Heinrich Himmler and he was what the English, in their barbaric, pig-sty tongue, call a c—t.

      How I hated the English! I hated the smell of boiled beef and soiled terrycloth nappies and Gentlemen’s Choice Old Spice, their noisy overcrowded streets ill-lit with gas lamps, I hated the ludicrous grooming of their facial hair, like old Prussian officers, and their women, who looked like old Prussian officers themselves. Back in Germany I had been a leader of men! For a decade we waged dirty street war against the communists, but then, in the elections of 1933, I was inexplicably defeated.

      Hitler! Hitler! How they chanted my name! Then the bastard Jew commies threw me in a concentration camp and it was there that I lost several teeth and nearly lost my leg, which still aches in cold weather—which, on this godforsaken island, means constantly. How I escaped that camp, and into England, is another matter. Now I went by my old nom de guerre of Wolf.

      Just Wolf.

      ‘Wolf, Wolf, Wolf, Wolf!’ the c—t Himmler said. I stared at him in hatred. I had not seen him since the Fall in ’33. Then, he had been the head of my militia, the Schutzstaffel, or SS. There had been fifty-two thousand of them, men ready to serve my cause. Then, the Fall. Now that fat fuck Ernst Thälmann of the KPD was Reichskanzler, and I was an out of work private eye in London, living above a Jew baker’s shop and paying rent I could ill afford, in this Year of Our Lord, 1938.

      ‘What do you want, Heinrich? I thought you

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