FANTASY MAGAZINE is a digital magazine focusing exclusively on the fantasy genre. In its pages, you will find all types of fantasy-dark fantasy, contemporary urban tales, surrealism, magical realism, science fantasy, high fantasy, folktales-and anything and everything in between. FANTASY is entertainment for the intelligent genre reader-we publish stories of the fantastic that make us think, and tell us what it is to be human.
Welcome to issue sixty-one-and the triumphant return!-of FANTASY MAGAZINE! In this issue we have Shingai Njeri Kagunda’s heartbreaking tale of a time-skipping sister told with a dash of poetry, “And This Is How to Stay Alive”; a surreal tale of perspective, “An Introduction” by Reina Hardy; May Chong’s wildly fun and sensual werewolf fantasy poem, “things i love about my werewolf girlfriend”; “The Secret Ingredient is Always the Same,” by Sarah Grey, a poem of heartbreak, survival, and friendship; Osahon Ize-Iyamu brings us a story of personal truth and potential in “To Look Forward”; Tamoha Sengupta gives a brief, vivid account of young love and pure rebellion in “Love Laws and a Locked Heart”. All this, plus we have an interview with BURNING ROSES author S.L. Huang and author spotlights with two of our authors.
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.
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.
I think one of the most complex issues about living in a collectivist society (which is the case for many African countries) is that you’re constantly taught that everything you do affects everyone, and all your choices must be made to respect/consider others in your family. I think this is pretty much a double edged sword—yes we should definitely take into account our family members and other people around us when we make some choices, but a lot of times this idea robs us of our own sense of choice and can be weaponized against us.
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.
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.
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.
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.
One of my favourite things is the idea of empathy as an aesthetic. To be a good storyteller in my opinion, is to be open to world views outside your own; this creates room for you to love your wholly human characters even when you don’t agree with them. The vulnerability part, I think, is the willingness to put the hard parts of yourself on the page.
