Micro-interview with Ellis Bray

We’re delighted to be joined by Ellis Bray, artist of “Prata Neptunia” and “ship of living ghosts” in The Future Fire #75, for a quick microinterview about art, forms and letters.

Art © 2026 Ellis Bray

The Future Fire: How did you go about illustrating “Prata Neptunia”?

Ellis Bray: With “Prata Neptunia” I had a really intense visual of the octopus and ink and the sky, and I was trying to emulate what was in my brain. As is the case in every form of art, what you put out never matches what’s in your head. On this attempt, I used watercolor and ink, with multiple layers and gold sumi ink as a highlight. I think next time I will try it with gouache, because it is thicker. Or maybe colored pencil, because it would allow me to put in the fine details. I’ll definitely attempt it again to see if I can get closer to what I’m seeing.

TFF: What was the image that really stuck with you from “ship of living ghosts”?

EB: In “ship of living ghosts” there is the line:

we breathe/ in small dark spaces cast upon the waves/ beneath an infinite sky.

But despite “infinite”, there are “shadows” being cast, so there’s something in the dark to cast the light. And it’s also “small dark spaces”, but “small” and “infinite” don’t really match up in my mind. So what it brought up in my mind was Plato’s Cave, where the whole of existence feels like it’s close by, but it’s really just a shadowcast illusion. So what if the “infinite sky” is just the top of a cavern that is so tall you can’t see it? It feels infinite but you’re still in a tightly enclosed space. The moon casting light and creating shadows is just an illusion. It also fit the very claustrophobic feel that the poem gave to me.  

TFF: Is there an artist or an art-form from distant history that you still look at with admiration or awe?

EB: I have been focusing on letter illumination recently, and I find myself in awe of the medieval transcriptionists who spent so long creating a single letter just to do an old school copy & paste for the rest of the text. (I know it was still calligraphy and very carefully written, but the illumination was pure creativity.) My dad keeps bringing up the Book of Kells when he’s looking at my own work, but that’s like comparing a paint-by-number to the original Mona Lisa. Like, yeah, you’re going to get similar results, but one requires decades of training.

TFF: Can you tell us about an artist whose work you're particularly enjoying at the moment?

EB: There is a comic called ExoComic by Li Chen, starring a very snarky kitty and their exasperated human. The art style, though, is adorable. It’s only when I tried to replicate it for my own comic idea that I realized how much effort it takes to make art look effortless. So, I’m enjoying reading through her entire CATalogue.

TFF: What else are you working on now?

EB: ’Tis the season, so I’m doing more conventions and art markets around the Seattle area. I’ve also started working on letter illumination, using gold and silver ink. I find it very meditative, because you have a set number of shapes to play with and a definite desired outcome, so the question is “how do I get there from here?” I’m really enjoying experimenting with it.

Art © 2026 Ellis Bray

Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2026/02/new-issue-202675.html.

Micro-interview with L.F. Howard

L.F. Howard, author of “We Will See” in The Future Fire #75, joins us for the first of this issue’s microinterview series, for a chat about aliens, space travel and writing.

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Art © 2026 L.E. Badillo

TFF: What does “We Will See” mean to you?

L.F. Howard: I wanted to play with the reader’s expectations about gender on multiple levels, and putting an alien and human race together in space is a great vehicle for that. I’m channelling a little of Ursula K. Le Guin’s “Left Hand of Darkness” by asking the reader to consider how much our understanding of ourselves doesn't really work outside of our self-imposed societal rules.

TFF: Would you like to visit another planet?

LFH: I think other planets are better off without humans on them.

TFF: What magical power would you like to possess?

LFH: The ability to clone myself so my clones can help with the endless to-dos.

TFF: What is the most important thing to remember about writing?

LFH: It doesn’t matter if your work is the “best” or “better than” someone else. No one out there is really the best. Classy literary fiction is great, but sometimes I want a story about a chaotic group of immortal women trying to navigate their blood-soaked lives.

TFF: What are you working on next?

LFH: A story about a chaotic group of immortal women trying to navigate their blood-soaked lives.

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Extract:

The bar on the ninth level had one of the best views on the station. Most of the rest of them, at least the ones I could afford, were interior-facing with a few liquid crystal displays showing island sunsets or late-night views of Old Earth. But we were a long way from those places, and most of us Humans had never seen them firsthand anyway.

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Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2026/02/new-issue-202675.html.

New issue: 2026.75

“I was attracted to science fiction because it was so wide open. I was able to do anything and there were no walls to hem you in and there was no human condition that you were stopped from examining.”

—Octavia E. Butler

Issue 2026.75

Flash fiction

• ‘A Multitude of Sparks Descend’, Marc A. Criley - art by Melkorka

Short stories

• ‘The Visitor’, Sylvie Althoff - art by Leyelle M.G.
• ‘Fruiting Bodies’, Lyra Meurer - art by L.E. Badillo
• ‘We Will See’, L.F. Howard - art by L.E. Badillo

Novelettes

• ‘Prata Neptunia’, S.J. Ladds - art by Ellis Bray

Poetry

• The Weight of Winter’, Kaya Skovdatter - art by Leyelle M.G.
• ‘ship of living ghosts’, Davian Aw - art by Ellis Bray

Download e-book version: PDF | EPUB

Micro-interview with Toeken

Please welcome Toeken, long-time collaborator and artist of “The Sons of Victor Levitak”  and “Unblooded Gospel” in The Future Fire #74, for this week’s installment of our microinterview series.

Art © 2025 Toeken

TFF: What was the image that really stuck with you from “The Sons of Victor Levitak”?

Toeken: This is kind of funny in a way; after reading and re-reading Rowley Amato’s superb tale I started getting visuals involving what I can only describe as a disgruntled bowl of stew. At one point I spent so much time painting hunks of meat, potatoes and lentils that I thought the whole piece would be just that; a painting of an angry meal glowering back at you. Amato’s story was a beautiful haunting piece that was a real education for me for me as I went about researching the visual cues I wanted.

TFF: How did you go about illustrating “Unblooded Gospel”?

Toeken: As is usual for me this started out as a much more abstract response to Justin Taroli’s fascinating text, which in turn then morphed into a series of disparate sketches and drawings that were of a multitude of images, hospital tiles, the color schemes of Mount Sinai hospital, wearable archictecture, rib cages, dirty bandages and scan codes. Was a real treat to compose and arrange, and a challenge to edit out the things that I thought might give the game away in the narrative.

TFF: What is the most “punk” thing you've ever done or made?

Toeken: Not sure if it qualifies as “punk,” but I can recall quite clearly a Sunday afternoon dog rescue back in 2011. A little mutt owned by some neighbours had disappeared down an uncovered bolt hole while they were out walking near the mountains. Had a few drinks in me and thought “Why not?” With help from some friends I roped up and went down after the little fellow. What I thought was a ten meter vertical shaft turned out to be close to forty meters. After hooking up the dog (a miracle the poor animal was still alive given the depth he’d bounced down) to the ropes I had to wait a good fifteen minutes before being hoisted back out. I’m claustrophobic. That was one of the longest waits I’ve ever experienced and for years afterwards I would wake up in the night sweating and panicking about the whole thing. Dog was a-okay though!

TFF: What's the most unusual or challenging medium you can imagine working with?

Toeken: I’d like to try screwing up an ice sculpture or two.

TFF: Can you tell us about an artist whose work you're particularly enjoying at the moment?

Toeken: The sculpting duo of Liquette-Gorbach, Sarah Ross-Thompson’s prints and the photography of Phil Penman. All fantastic, inspiring stuff.

TFF: What else are you working on now?

Toeken: I’m working with Gavin Chappell on the late Gregory H.Bryant’s Caves of Mars books, David Blalock on a ParAbnormal Magazine project and finishing up the first issue of Phil Emery’s Hammek graphic novel project.

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Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2025/09/new-issue-202574.html.

Micro-interview with Lauren Ferebee

Lauren Ferebee, author of “Sentinel” in The Future Fire #74, joins us for a chat about omens, preservation and evolution in the latest instance of our microinterview feature.

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Art © 2025 Barbara Candiotti

TFF: What does “Sentinel” mean to you?

Lauren Ferebee: “Sentinel” was an interesting story to write because it took me a long time to get from the beginning to the end of the story—a few years. I found the process of writing it very meditative because I enjoyed spending time with the narrator in her solitary life. I remember starting with that image of the three dead birds and wondering what that omen meant. The story is kind of an oblique answer to that question.

TFF: Does there come a point at which some things are no longer worth preserving?

LF: I think preservation, from a nature/earth perspective, is a really interesting and thorny question, because I'm quite interested in rewilding and natural methods of restoring earth, such as mycoremediation. I don’t think preservation is the right word for the environmental work we need to engage in as we pass the point of no return for many climate issues. There’s a lot of evolution that needs to happen. There’s a lot of reckoning with the world the way it is now and how we move forward from that, because we cannot return. The inability to reckon with the present—the desire to preserve what is already gone—is so incredibly harmful.

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Extract

The morning after I dreamed about Hannah’s mermaid, three dead seagulls washed up on the shoreline. I took note of each one, their bent bodies limp on the sand, then lifted them by their feet, feathers dripping, to take into the lab. An omen, I might have called it once.

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Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2025/09/new-issue-202574.html.

Micro-interview with V. Zixin

We’re very happy to introduce V. Zixin, author of “The Better Ends” in The Future Fire #74, who joins us for this week’s microinterview.

Art © 2025 Carmen Moran

TFF: What does “The Better Ends” mean to you?

V. Zixin: “The Better Ends” was born out of my love for America. I grew up here as an immigrant. It’s a story so common as to be archetypal to the national identity of the United States. Certain promises are made in pursuit of that identity. One is that you will be just like anyone else. Another is that you are utterly unique, and that is worth celebrating. The nation is stronger when it is diverse, and yet only real when it is whole and undivided. The alien is loved, feared, and suppressed in equal measure, and I cannot help but find this contradiction tantalizing.

TFF: Do you have a lucky charm?

VZ: Yes, my editor! He’s been reading my stories since high school, and I’m still honored that he takes the time to go through and provide sanity checks for whatever new tangents I send him. So much of writing can be solitary that having a consistent first reader is worth its weight in gold.

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Extract:

We were both teenagers at the time. Or near enough, anyway. Neither of us knew when our birthdays really were. Children didn’t seem to be born in Shenzhen. They materialized around alleyways and market stalls before being adopted by the proper enclaves. I was dressed up in a set of scratchy overalls and had found a nylon jacket that almost matched the shade of leather I was looking for. The cardboard cutout on my head was supposed to be a cowgirl’s hat. I was wearing a pair of boots that my brother had died with.

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Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2025/09/new-issue-202574.html.

Micro-interview with Nancy S. Koven

Nancy S. Koven, author of “Seven Stories for Now and Later” in The Future Fire #74, joins us for a quick chat about extinction, fetishization and writing in this week’s microinterview.

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Art by John Gould and H.C. Richter (1854)

TFF: What does “Seven Stories for Now and Later” mean to you?

Nancy S. Koven: By organizing the story around seven animals that are either recently or soon-to-be extinct, this story frames environmental loss as a deeply personal one, underscoring the human desire to “know” that which is lost through speculative narrative. The story is also a space to explore associated themes of scarcity and fetishization, complicity and privilege, and the hard limits of simulacra (mechanimals, memories, even words).

TFF: What is the most important thing to remember about writing?

NSK: Written works are interactive maps, messy and nonlinear, that illuminate vast, complex worlds made possible just by committing a handful of people, places, and events to the page. There’s no right way to read the map, there’s risk and reward in doing so, and you’ll never end up in the same place twice.

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Extract:

A thickset bird shuffles along the railing of the viewing platform, catches me looking across the river at its home, then turns to face the same way. We become an old married couple, exchanging sighs and idly scratching away the afternoon’s humidity. Its face is like weathered copper. My skin, too, is oxidized, the latest excision dressed in petroleum jelly and a sweatproof bandage underneath my hairline. There are no spiders for it to eat, but it doesn’t seem all that hungry.

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Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2025/09/new-issue-202574.html.

Micro-interview with Justin Taroli

This week we welcome Justin Taroli, author of “Unblooded Gospel” in The Future Fire #74, for a super brief chat about his story, dreams and writing.

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Art © 2025 Toeken

TFF: What does “Unblooded Gospel” mean to you?

Justin Taroli: “Unblooded Gospel” is a story that's been lingering in my brain for over a decade. I think I was waiting for permission to write it. I gave myself that permission earlier this year.

TFF: Have you ever used your dreams as inspiration for your writing or art?

JT: Yes. My dreams are generally very vivid, so I regularly take inspiration from my dreams.

TFF: What is the most important thing to remember about writing?

JT: You don't need anyone’s permission to write. Write whatever you want, whenever you want. Rejections mean nothing. Stand on your work.

TFF: What are you working on next?

JT: I’m currently seeking representation for my book of short stories. I’ll continue writing stories and eventually begin working on a new novel.

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Extract:

There’s a guy at the bar with lips like wet marble and a credit score you can feel in your spine. He orders vodka neat. Who drinks vodka neat? People who don’t need mixers, or feelings, or food. People who glide.

“Don’t,” says Marcus, leaning into me. “He’s one of them.”

I laugh loud enough that it startles the couple next to us. “One of what?”

Marcus just says, “They drink. But they don’t piss. Think about it.”

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Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2025/09/new-issue-202574.html.

Micro-interview with Eleanor Glewwe

We’re delighted to be joined by Eleanor Glewwe, author of “Limue’s Alphabet” in The Future Fire #74, for a quick chat about alphabets and languages, in this week’s installment of our micro-interview series.

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Art © Barbara Candiotti

TFF: What does “Limue's Alphabet” mean to you?

Eleanor Glewwe: I was inspired to write this story when an author I followed on Twitter—I wish I could remember who—urged writers to “go weird.” I don't remember where the idea for the plot came from, but “Limue’s Alphabet” is the closest I’ve ever ventured toward horror. I’m also pleased by how its non-linear structure came together, and I always like being able to infuse my fiction with some linguistics.

TFF: What language or writing system would you most like to learn?

EG: Thanks to my newish research focus, I’ve learned to read the Georgian Mkhedruli alphabet, but I would love to be able to understand everything I can sound out. Separately, I wish I could speak Taishanese, the language of my mother's family. There's one Taishanese word tucked into “Limue’s Alphabet.”

TFF: Is there an art-form or creator from distant history that you still look at with admiration or awe?

EG: Johann Sebastian Bach came to mind, but I’m not sure he belongs to “distant” history. I could also say Georgian traditional polyphony, which I think is pretty ancient (sorry, I’m a bit of a Kartvelophile).

TFF: What are you working on next?

EG: I think “Limue’s Alphabet” is the last piece of fiction I’ve finished; I’ve been writing very slowly lately. But I am working (on and off) on another linguisticky short story set in a near-future Upper Midwest (U.S.).

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Extract

In the dappled shade of a stand of bamboo, an old woman takes a stick and scratches two curved lines in the dusty yellow earth.

“Pai is for pera
Limue’s plucked eye”

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Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2025/09/new-issue-202574.html.

Micro-interview with Rowley Amato

Rowley Amato, author of “The Sons of Victor Levitak” in The Future Fire #74, joins us to talk about his story and other speculative matters in our micro-interview series.

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Art © 2025, Toeken

TFF: What does “The Sons of Victor Levitak” mean to you?

Rowley Amato: “The Sons of Victor Levitak” is a wistful look back at a time when the American Jewish Left was muscular, organized, and unapologetically radical. I am a proud Jew, and with global fascism on the march and genocide being committed in our name, I sort of see this story as an attempt to reclaim and assert that radical history, and perhaps show that an alternative world is possible. I was primarily influenced by three texts: a 2020 article in Jewish Currents magazine about leftist co-op developments of the Bronx; Cynthia Ozick’s 1997 novel The Puttermesser Papers; and the rabbi Joshua Trachtenberg’s writings on Jewish magic and folklore. Each of these works move me deeply, and they inform the voice, content, and general vibe of my story in different ways. 

TFF: Have you ever wished you could go back in time and change just one thing?

RA: Yes, and I think about this question all the time. There are lots of “big” things I would change (e.g., killing Hitler, thwarting the assasination of Lincoln, etc.), but I will keep things local: I would go back in time to the early 1930s and stop the New York City urban planner Robert Moses from seizing control of the Triborough Bridge Authority. This would deny him the source of power and funding that allowed him to inflict his wildly destructive agenda on the Bronx and New York City as a whole. Of course, the unintended consequences could be dire, so the only responsible answer is that I am not one to meddle with time travel. 

TFF: What are you working on next?

RA: I’m currently working on a few horror short stories. I’ve also started planning a science fiction/mystery novel.

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Extract

Victor Levitak was not well-loved by the other residents of the Coop, but we sat a feeble shiva for him anyway.

Marty Feinberg worked with Victor on the fabric cutters’ line down at the Lefcourt lofts and was, by our estimation, the closest thing he had to a friend. We looked to him to deliver the mourner’s kaddish. He stared at his shoes and quickly rushed through words that held no meaning for us, until, eventually, his Hebrew failed him.

“Well, anyway… he found peace.” He shrugged. “A great blessing, in my opinion.”

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Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2025/09/new-issue-202574.html.

Micro-interview with Naomi Simone Borwein

We’re joined by Naomi Simone Borwein, author of the wonderful poem “The Void Is in a Playful Mood Tonight” in The Future Fire #74, to talk about alienation, transmateriality, and writing.

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Art © 2025, Carmen Moran

TFF: What does “The Void Is in a Playful Mood Tonight” mean to you?

Naomi Simone Borwein: On one level, this poem is about the conscious universe and “our” presence in it. On another level, it is about alienation.

TFF: Is poetry a speculative genre or medium by default, would you say?

NSB: Metaphor can be envisioned as a conceptual network of meaning(s) linked by more or less abstract layers of motile, sensory, and visual codices that are actualized through poetry; it is a somatic slippage of meaning. That transmateriality of meaning, which embodies divergent manifestations or reinterpretations of “reality” again and again, can be pretty surreal, speculative even, so potentially yes.

TFF: If you were the captain of a ship, what would you name her?

NSB: Dearly Departed.

TFF: What is the most important thing to remember about writing?

NSB:

1. It’s trite but read every day and write every day, and if you cannot write, read read read until you can
2. Writing is like channeling vengeful spirits

TFF: What are you working on next?

NSB: Some academic volumes, a spec fic novel, and the usual insomnia-fuelled poetry and short fiction… that may never see the light of day.

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Extract

This is your fault, witch.
It had a voice like rusty chains.
And cracking joints.

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Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2025/09/new-issue-202574.html.

New issue: 2025.74

“We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art, and very often in our art—the art of words.”

—Ursula K. Le Guin (National Book Awards, 2014)

Issue 2025.74

Short stories

• ‘The Sons of Victor Levitak’, Rowley Amato - art by Toeken
• ‘Sentinel’, Lauren Ferebee - art by Barbara Candiotti
• ‘Seven Stories for Now and Later’, Nancy S. Koven
• ‘Unblooded Gospel’, Justin Taroli - art by Toeken

Novelettes

• ‘The Better Ends’, V. Zixin - art by Carmen Moran
• ‘Limue’s Alphabet’, Eleanor Glewwe - art by Barbara Candiotti

Poetry

• ‘The Void Is in a Playful Mood Tonight’, Naomi Simone Borwein - art by Carmen Moran

Download e-book version: PDF | EPUB