What does this mean?
It is a question that I’ve been sitting with for the last five years. Like most of us, I saw the world break. I remember the beginning of the pandemic looking like a wake up call for humans. We had to ask ourselves some hard questions and some of us had a lot of time with ourselves to think about those answers. We had to confront and crystalize what we thought about when it came to our responsibility to one another and what we needed for ourselves. We watched lives end and the Earth began to rebound from our abuses. Many of us had to confront our interior selves while we grew apart from those next to us and close to others across oceans.
Now we are sitting in the manifestation of that meaning. For all of its beauty and squalor, here we are. Many of us have found a new normal and probably don’t stop to think about how wild it would be to be a time traveler, sitting in the recent past, almost laughing and crying as we tell the story of everything that has happened since January of 2019.
It was 2019 when I sold my first story “eLon-4 Breaks A Mirror” to Apparition. It was a story that was written with all of the frustration, grief and anger I was feeling as I sat with my laptop next to my mother’s deathbed. I was in possession of the type of midwestern humility that was convinced Apparition accepted my lil’ robot story because they were nice (and they are incredibly cool and kind people). I seriously thought that would be my only acceptance and I would never be published again. From there I found my work in other magazines and got to meet creators that had been my heroes. Meanwhile, I learned that the story I wrote for Apparition would be a harbinger for my healing. A story about grief being a stimulus for growth.
And now, I am sad to say, this will be the last editorial of the last issue of Apparition. I’m not ashamed to say that writing this editorial went slowly for me because it carried the weight of that question, “What does this mean?” I know the staff at Apparition have been sitting with that, also. More time to write? One less champion for diverse voices in speculative literature? Inspiration for someone to start a new publication with different ideas?
Who knows? All I can say with a certain voice is that Apparition will be missed by me and all of the readers that waited for the talented and visionary voices we found in its pages. Here, meaning-finders, are some of the last voices we will hear from Apparition Literary Magazine.
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Estelle by Carol Duncan – Tells the story of a young girl whose crossing into womanhood brings with it a legacy that will change her life and the lives of those around her.
With the first skin-tingling, Amina had heard the desperate whispers, prayers and pleas of previous captives that had become imprinted in the wood and sails of the Guineaman ship.
Our Last Evening in a Moon-Struck City by Madeehah Reza a man goes on a simple purchasing errand for his employer and finds a deeper connection to his past.
Her name was Meher-un-Nissa, the granddaughter of an astronomer, and she said the moon was falling.
In Skittering Within by Kelsea Yu, the unique circumstances of Hai’s birth may be a means of escape.
As Hai is hauled away, her eyes stay locked on the receding tank of horseshoe crabs. Her tongue clicks in time with the skittering of their chitinous little legs.
The Pancake House at the End of the World by L.M. Guay gives us a special perspective on the apocalypse and what the end may look like.
After the apocalypse-that-wasn’t, Daniel was the first one to be stalked by the beast that calls itself Leviathan, devourer of false prophets.
Replacement Rainforest by May Chong, I need you to close your eyes while this poem is being read to you. The imagery is as lush as the world it mourns.
The lianas took a vote, gave up
their toughest twists to form
your new frame. When you creak
awake, brittle, rain-starved,
remember them.
Gutted by Cameron E Quinn, how can a poem be both beautiful and gorey? Here is the answer.
The contents of the mermaid’s stomach are
laid out, neat rows on dirty trays,
to catalog our the negligences and
enter the death knells in data tables.
Thank You For Your Service by August Cao is a proper eulogy for the wonder that happens when a machine makes space for wonder.
Somehow he acquires a butterfly,
which itself is a miracle, which he traps
in his belly, the flutter mistaken for heartbeat.
The Robot Malfunctions In Want of Locks and Braids by Timi Sanni I need you to know that the longing in this poem may touch you in ways you did not expect.
Give something a human name,
and watch it die for beauty or truth.
Siren Song by Marilia Angeline will be one of those poems that you read, sit back and reflect on, and read again.
It’s not what you hear
but what you think
How did I die this time? by Anne Liberton is one of the most unique poetic forms I have ever read and I know you will enjoy it, too.
Apparition Literary Magazine is funded by our patrons, the editors, and by your kind donations.
Thank you for reading
Rebecca Bennett, Amy Henry Robinson, Tacoma Tomilson, and Clarke Doty
