Don’t you wish you could be like water? With all its states of matter…? It would be so convenient to have a liquid, solid, and gas form. We contain flesh, blood, and breath, of course. But, it would be lovely if we could utilize states of matter in a more transformational fashion.

Sick of your failing meat sack? Become breath and dissipate for a while. Tired of being blown about on the wind? Form clouds, and rain yourself upon the earth. Buffeted by psychic or physical attacks? Solidify, tighter and tighter, until you are bedrock. Fight, flight, freeze, fawn… TRANSFIGURE!

This month, we are celebrating transfigurations. As a magazine, we are excited to be releasing this 150th issue, and over the course of 150 issues we have changed. We’ve had multiple editors-in-chief, countless volunteers, at least a couple publishers. I’m but the latest in a line of fiction aficionados.

Since inheriting this magazine, I have dreamed of achieving all states of being that a magazine can have—print and audio, while keeping our digital roots. First step has been to update our home base, our website, the look-and-feel, but also the backend content management system. For over a year, we’ve been working with the Dapper + Associates design firm out of Seattle, WA, to achieve this transformation. This month, we will be doing the final migrations and launching it all.

I am beyond excited! And couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than to assemble stories that viscerally describe changes in a state of being. We have two astonishing, space-based transformations—“Moss Senses” by Beth Goder and “Moonmouse” by S.L. Harris.

Of course, not all of transformations are peaceful. Andrew Kozma’s “The Sacrificials” offers a chilling reflection of how collective horror is justified. “The Piano Made of Fingers” by Abigail Koury gives us a physical representation of a teacher’s indoctrination of a student.

Some transformations can’t be undone, as we see in “Second Film” by Christopher St. Prince.

Some are done privately, among family, as in “Float. Sink. Tread. Swim.” by Shelly Jones. And, some—like our own—can only be unleashed upon the world, much like we see in Bree Wernicke’s “The Oil King.”

Each of these stories will be released over the course of the month, in our usual fashion. As we move to the new website, you can follow along with us by checking our social media accounts: Facebook, Threads, Instagram, and Bluesky. Or, by becoming a follower on Patreon. We hope you enjoy watching our transformation!

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Ⓒ Rebecca Halsey