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Nightmare Magazine, Issue 85 (October 2019): Nightmare Magazine, #85
Nightmare Magazine, Issue 85 (October 2019): Nightmare Magazine, #85
Nightmare Magazine, Issue 85 (October 2019): Nightmare Magazine, #85
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Nightmare Magazine, Issue 85 (October 2019): Nightmare Magazine, #85

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NIGHTMARE is an online 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 eighty-five of NIGHTMARE--and happy October! Every month is a great month to seek out literary scares, but an October horror story is just a little sweeter than usual. If you loved the SCREAM franchise, our new original short from Carlie St. George ("Some Kind of Blood-Soaked Future") is going to tickle your terror bone. It's the story of a final girl who gives up running away--and starts fighting back. In Rich Larson's new short ("Growing and Growing"), two men find an abandoned baby and try to help the sweet little thing. What could possibly go wrong? Our reprints this month come from horror icons Nathan Ballingrud ("The Maw") and Gemma Files ("Grave Goods"). In the latest installment of our column on horror, "The H Word," Benjamin Percy talks about building the skeleton of a horror story. Plus we have author spotlights with our authors and a movie review from Adam-Troy Castro.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateOct 1, 2019
ISBN9781393800972
Nightmare Magazine, Issue 85 (October 2019): Nightmare Magazine, #85
Author

John Joseph Adams

John Joseph Adams is the series editor of The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy and the editor of the Hugo Award–winning Lightspeed, and of more than forty anthologies, including Lost Worlds & Mythological Kingdoms, The Far Reaches, and Out There Screaming (coedited with Jordan Peele).

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    Nightmare Magazine, Issue 85 (October 2019) - John Joseph Adams

    Nightmare Magazine

    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    Issue 85, October 2019

    FROM THE EDITOR

    Editorial: October 2019

    FICTION

    The Maw

    Nathan Ballingrud

    Some Kind of Blood-Soaked Future

    Carlie St. George

    Grave Goods

    Gemma Files

    Growing and Growing

    Rich Larson

    NONFICTION

    The H Word: Dark Constellations

    Benjamin Percy

    Media Review: October 2019

    Adam-Troy Castro

    AUTHOR SPOTLIGHTS

    Carlie St. George

    Rich Larson

    MISCELLANY

    Coming Attractions, November 2019

    Stay Connected

    Subscriptions and Ebooks

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

    About the Nightmare Team

    Also Edited by John Joseph Adams

    © 2019 Nightmare Magazine

    Cover by Elena Schweitzer / Adobe Stock Image

    www.nightmare-magazine.com

    From the EditorBEST AMERICAN SCIENCE FICTION AND FANTASY 2018

    Editorial: October 2019

    John Joseph Adams | 159 words

    Welcome to issue eighty-five of Nightmare—and happy October! Every month is a great month to seek out literary scares, but an October horror story is just a little sweeter than usual.

    If you loved the Scream franchise, our new original short from Carlie St. George (Some Kind of Blood-Soaked Future) is going to tickle your terror bone. It’s the story of a final girl who gives up running away—and starts fighting back. In Rich Larson’s new short (Growing and Growing), two men find an abandoned baby and try to help the sweet little thing. What could possibly go wrong? Our reprints this month come from horror icons Nathan Ballingrud (The Maw) and Gemma Files (Grave Goods).

    In the latest installment of our column on horror, The H Word, Benjamin Percy talks about building the skeleton of a horror story. Plus we have author spotlights with our authors and a movie review from Adam-Troy Castro.

    ABOUT THE AUTHOR

    John Joseph Adams, in addition to serving as publisher and editor-in-chief of Nightmare, is the editor of John Joseph Adams Books, an science fiction and fantasy imprint from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. He is also the series editor of Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy, as well as the bestselling editor of many other anthologies, including The Mad Scientist’s Guide to World Domination, Robot Uprisings, Dead Man’s Hand, Armored, Brave New Worlds, Wastelands, and The Living Dead. Recent projects include: Cosmic Powers, What the #@&% Is That?, Operation Arcana, Loosed Upon the World, Wastelands 2, Press Start to Play, and The Apocalypse Triptych: The End is Nigh, The End is Now, and The End Has Come. Called the reigning king of the anthology world by Barnes & Noble, John is a two-time winner of the Hugo Award (for which he has been a finalist eleven times) and is a seven-time World Fantasy Award finalist. John is also the editor and publisher of Lightspeed Magazine and is a producer for Wired.com’s The Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy podcast. Find him on Twitter @johnjosephadams.

    FictionDiscover John Joseph Adams Books

    The Maw

    Nathan Ballingrud | 5665 words

    1

    Mix was about ready to ditch the weird old bastard already. Too slow, too clumsy, too loud. Not even a block into Hollow City and already they’d captured the attention of one of the wagoneers, and in her experience you could almost clap your hands in front of their faces and they wouldn’t know it. Experience, though; that was the key word. She had it and he didn’t, and it was probably going to get him killed. But she’d be goddamned if she’d let it get her killed too.

    She pulled him into an alcove and they waited quietly until the thing had passed.

    You need to rest? she said.

    No I don’t need to rest, he snapped. Keep going.

    Mix was seventeen years old, and anybody on the far side of fifty seemed inexcusably ancient to her, but she reckoned this man to be pretty old even by those standards. He was spry enough to walk through streets cluttered with the detritus and the debris of long abandonment without too much difficulty, but she could see the strain in his face, the sheen of sweat on his forehead. And a respectable pace for an old man was still just a fraction of the speed she preferred to move at while in Hollow City. She’d been stupid to take his money, but she’d always been a stupid girl. Just ask anybody.

    They turned a corner and the last checkpoint, a little wooden shack with a lantern gleaming in a window, disappeared from view. It might as well have been a hundred miles away. The buildings hulked into the cloudy sky around them, windows shattered and bellied with darkness. The doors of little shops gaped like open mouths. Glass pebbled the sidewalk. Rags of newspapers, torn and scattered clothing, and tangles of bloody meat lay strewn across the pavement. Cars lined the sidewalks in their final repose. Life still prospered here, to be sure: rats, roaches, feral cats and dogs; she’d even seen a mother bear and her train of cubs once, moving through the ruined neighborhood like a fragment of a better dream. The place seethed with it. But there weren’t any people anymore. At least, not the way she used to think of people.

    Dear God, the man said, and she stopped. He shuffled into the middle of the street, shoulders slouched, his face slack as a dead man’s. His eyes roved over the place, taking it all in. He looked frail, and lonely, and scared; which, she supposed, is exactly what he was. Despite herself, she felt a twinge of sympathy for him. She followed him, took his elbow, and pulled him back into the relative shadow of the sidewalk.

    Hard to believe this is all just a few blocks away from where you live, huh?

    He swallowed, nodded.

    But listen to me, okay? You gotta listen to me, and do what I say. No walking out in the middle of the street. We stay quiet, we keep moving, we don’t draw attention. Don’t think I won’t leave your ass if you get us in trouble. Do you understand me?

    He disengaged his elbow from her hand. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed. Sorry, he said. This is just my first time seeing it since I left. At the time it was just, it was . . . it was just chaos. Everything was so confused.

    Yeah, I get it. She didn’t want to hear his story. Everybody had one. Tragedy gets boring after a while.

    Hollow City was not a city at all, but a series of city blocks that used to be part of the Fleming and South Kensington neighborhoods, and had acquired its own peculiar identity over the last few months. Its informal name came from its emptiness: each building a shell, scoured of life, whether through evacuation or the attentions of the surgeons. The atmosphere had long turned an ashy gray, as though under perpetual cloud cover, even around the city beyond the afflicted neighborhood. Lamps burned all the time, but not in here. Electricity had been cut off weeks ago. Nevertheless, light still swelled from isolated pockets, as though furnaces were being stoked to facilitate some awful labor transpiring beyond the sight of the surrounding populace.

    "There’s things coming up that’re gonna be hard to

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