Nightmare Magazine, Issue 128 (May 2023): Nightmare Magazine, #128

By Wendy N. Wagner

NIGHTMARE is a digital horror and dark fantasy magazine. In NIGHTMARE's pages, you will find all kinds of horror fiction, from zombie stories and haunted house tales, to visceral psychological horror.

 

Welcome to issue 128 of NIGHTMARE! We have original short fiction from Keith Rosson ("Primal Slap") and Elena Sichrovsky ("Goodnight Virginia Bluebells"). Our Horror Lab originals include a flash story ("Nine Lies You Tell Yourself About Ghost Hunting") from Aimee Picchi and a poem ("We Are Always Walking on Dead Things") from Emily Ruth Verona. We also have the latest installment of our column on horror, "The H Word," plus author spotlights with our authors, and a feature interview with editor and reviewer Sadie Hartmann.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adamant Press
• Release date: May 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215166499

Book preview

Nightmare Magazine

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Issue 128 (May 2023)

FROM THE EDITOR

Editorial: May 2023

FICTION

Primal Slap

Keith Rosson

9 Lies You Tell Yourself About Ghost Hunting

Aimee Picchi

Goodnight, Virginia Bluebells

Elena Sichrovsky

POETRY

We Are Always Walking on Dead Things

Emily Ruth Verona

BOOK EXCERPTS

The Merry Dredgers

Jeremy C. Shipp

NONFICTION

The H Word: Healing Through Horror

Rae Knowles

Interview: Sadie Hartmann

Gordon B. White

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHTS

Keith Rosson

Elena Sichrovsky

MISCELLANY

Coming Attractions

Stay Connected

Subscriptions and Ebooks

Support Us on Patreon, or How to Become a Dragonrider or Space Wizard

About the Nightmare Team

© 2023 Nightmare Magazine

Cover by Fran_kie / Adobe Stock

www.nightmare-magazine.com

Published by Adamant Press

From the Editor

Editorial: May 2023

Wendy N. Wagner | 605 words

Welcome to Issue #128 of Nightmare Magazine!

When I was a freshman in college, eager to knock out all those pesky general education requirements before I dug in and got serious about my major, I signed up for Phil. 207: Early Modern Philosophy, 1500-1750. Philosophy, as I understood it from shelving books as a library volunteer, had something to do with world religions, alien abduction, and/or hallucinogenic drugs. I didn’t know they were into all of that in 1500, but I expected I was in for a fun time.

Spoiler: I was not in for a fun time.

My poor young brain was cracked open by long and convoluted passages by some of Europe’s deepest (and possibly most boring) thinkers. I learned new and important terms like epistemology, sub-standing, a priori, and solipsism. I latched onto that one with an unexpected tenacity. How could I prove there was more to the world than the thoughts and feelings flickering through my head? What if reality really was some kind of simulation? How the heck would I know any differently?

Before I knew it, I was casting aside my chemistry major and taking more philosophy classes. And while I, like most baby philosophy students, did cast aside solipsism for something a bit more pragmatic, I do firmly believe that the stories we tell ourselves can start to create our reality.

This issue is about those stories—and the way they come to haunt us.

Ghosts loom large in these tales. We open the month with Keith Rosson’s short story Primal Slap, which features a young woman with a shitty job, a difficult dad, and a ghost stalking her. Elena Sichrovsky gives us Goodnight, Virginia Bluebells, which is about a young woman coping with the death of her father—who happens to be a serial killer. Aimee Picchi shares a flash story about the sidekick of a ghost hunter in Nine Lies You Tell Yourself About Ghost Hunting (I mean, the issue’s theme is right there in the title). And in her poem, Emily Ruth Verona warns us in the title: We Are Always Walking on Dead Things.

Before you read any further, touch a bit of potting soil, or perhaps the sidewalk. These things are packed with the bodies of dead entities. They are made from death. Doesn’t that make you feel just a little bit uneasy? And would you still feel that way if I hadn’t put that idea—that story—in your head?

I think it’s important to interrogate the stories we tell ourselves about the world and our place in it. I think it’s even more important to interrogate what we tell ourselves about the people we have known. What power do we give these stories and how will we allow them to shape our paths? Do we remember these people—or are we haunted by them?

A focus on the past continues in our nonfiction department, where Rae Knowles writes about gaslighting in the newest installment of The H Word. We also interview Sadie Hartmann about her editorial experiences and her forthcoming book about must-read horror novels. And of course we’ve sat down with our short fiction writers and grilled them about their work. Plus, our ebook readers get an excerpt from Jeremy C. Shipp’s new novel The Merry Dredgers. It’s another terrific issue, which I hope you all enjoy!

As for me, I’m still haunted by my philosophy degree. But at least I’ve conquered the most monstrous thing it brought into my life: student loans.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Wendy N. Wagner is the author of The Creek Girl, forthcoming 2025 from Tor Nightfire, as well as the horror novel The Deer Kings and the gothic novella The Secret Skin. Previous work includes the SF thriller An Oath of Dogs and two novels for the Pathfinder Tales series, and her short stories, poetry, and essays have appeared in more than sixty venues. She also serves as the managing/senior editor of Lightspeed Magazine, and previously served as the guest editor of our Queers Destroy Horror! special issue. She lives in Oregon with her very understanding family, two large cats, and a Muppet disguised as a dog.

FictionDiscover John Joseph Adams Books

Primal Slap

Keith Rosson | 6959 words

---

Content warnings:

Cultural appropriation, bodily harm and dismemberment, war violence

---

Jeffrey, chin glazed in grease, leans his head over my cubicle wall and asks me what I’m working on. He slurps something from his bento box—the one with his name supposedly written in kanji on the side—and noodles hang trembling from his lips. Jeffrey’s the senior sales associate, which technically makes him my superior. He’s wildly unsavory for a number of reasons; the fact that he insists on eating at his desk every day is pretty high on the list. He tilts his head back and drops a wedge of mushroom into his mouth. Watching it trek down his throat is like performance art, or something out of a nature video.

Jeffrey’s chopsticks rove around his box and he says above me, still chewing, Was that the Swan Valley account you just hung up on, Gillian?

I didn’t hang up on anyone. I finished a call.

A shrug, his throat working on another mushroom like he’s ingesting a mongoose egg. If you say so.

I count to five and hold my breath. I picture the pit of rot inside me. The seed I will expel. I am brave and competent. I can do this job. I can tell this man to back up.

It’s kind of rude, actually, I say quietly.

What is?

I gesture at the dots of broth that have splattered the cloth partition of my cubicle. You’re kind of invading my space, Jeffrey.

Another slurp. Another jab and stir. His chopsticks click against his teeth. Oh, sorry. Anyway, I’m just saying, and if Jeffrey’s not well actuallying something, he is just saying it, "with your call numbers the way they are, it might behoove you to step it up a bit. Swan Valley’s a big account."

I know that, I say.

He holds up a finger. Don’t interrupt, please. He