Written by A. W. Prihandita, and published as a part of Clarkesworld ISSUE 232 – January 2026. Jan 01, 2026
A child walks into a half-abandoned city with half-crumbling skyscrapers and gardens half-turned into deserts. The child, a twelve-year-old boy in sturdy hiking boots and a hydration pack, with tears pooling in his eyes and blisters on his feet, arrives in the city near midnight, and because of that goes unnoticed for the first two miles upon crossing the city’s border. He comes for the hustle and bustle of the city to puncture the heavy, echoing muteness he carries. It disappoints him to find only more silence.
Feet shuffling with exhaustion, belly grumbling with hunger, the boy walks into one of the city’s parched gardens—the biggest one, in fact—and finds a huge fountain at its heart. But instead of an intricately carved fountainhead sprouting blooming water, at the center of its basin lies a giant human head, with long dark hair floating in coils around it like snakes in a lake. It is perhaps as tall as the boy, who is quite tall for someone his age. The boy scrutinizes the head under the yellowish streetlights, from some distance away because he is wary, because he knows what it is, because his mother had told tales about it every night for months before her disappearance.
Read the full article here.
A child walks into a half-abandoned city with half-crumbling skyscrapers and gardens half-turned into deserts. The child, a twelve-year-old boy in sturdy hiking boots and a hydration pack, with tears pooling in his eyes and blisters on his feet, arrives in the city near midnight, and because of that goes unnoticed for the first two miles upon crossing the city’s border. He comes for the hustle and bustle of the city to puncture the heavy, echoing muteness he carries. It disappoints him to find only more silence.
Feet shuffling with exhaustion, belly grumbling with hunger, the boy walks into one of the city’s parched gardens—the biggest one, in fact—and finds a huge fountain at its heart. But instead of an intricately carved fountainhead sprouting blooming water, at the center of its basin lies a giant human head, with long dark hair floating in coils around it like snakes in a lake. It is perhaps as tall as the boy, who is quite tall for someone his age. The boy scrutinizes the head under the yellowish streetlights, from some distance away because he is wary, because he knows what it is, because his mother had told tales about it every night for months before her disappearance.
Read the full article here.
Li Moly
