What an interesting smell you’ve discovered!

“Spring,” as an insipid marquee announced to me this morning, “has sprung.” Also, “Our Sk8ing Classes Are Wheelie Gr8,” according to a different local sign composed by a more imaginative poet.

Speaking of good imaginations, we’re pleased to cram the cruelest month with random acts of creativity from four talented writers. Betsy Streeter—whom you may remember as the artist behind the March issue’s scary-elegant cover illustration—kicks things off with a laugh-out-loud-then-wonder-if-you’re-a-bad-person story, “Del, We’re Sorry, Please Stop.” After that, Charlie Fiset’s “Natural Birth” will change the way you look at eggs forever. You may want to enjoy “Them Oranges,” a heart-pounding tale of hunger by Nicole Wolverton, with a glass of fresh-squeezed juice. Last up is Ben Pullar’s “The Stangler Fig Slide,” a fanciful tale with as many twists as its eponymous attraction. (Notice I didn’t say “titular,” because that sounds like a word frat guys would use on Spring Break.) Read, ponder, share with friends. And definitely check out this month’s cover art, Isabella Petty’s starkly evocative “Anguish.”

Read it online or download the pdf.

In case you were wondering: Earl Grey with lemon. And leave the pot; it’s been a long day.

We love March. Probably because, as a certain disappearing tabby once observed, we’re all mad here. In that spirit, we’ve invited an eclectic group of guests to our little tea party this month. Our fifty-second issue opens with “Little Monster,” a tale of slow burning from Aida Ibisevic that will give you chills. Next up is Vajra Chandrasekera’s “By Good Angels Tenanted,” a story of two unusual sets of genitals—each terrifying in its own way—and the people who live with them. [Insert “teabagging” joke here.] Then the fun just keeps on keepin’ on with Christopher Cassavella’s amusing metafiction narrative, “Joe’s Theory.” That one is followed by “The Memory Thief,” a bittersweet zombie flash-fiction piece from Brianna Gielow. Lastly, William Blomstedt introduces you to the roommates you never knew you wanted in “The Scuttlebutt on Pluto.” And make sure you pause to admire “Revenge,” the creepy (but very classy) cover art by Betsy Streeter.

So if you’ve been bummed out lately by all this lousy Smarch weather, pull up a chair and hang with us for a while—there’s plenty of unbirthday cake to go around. If you forgot to bring a hat, you can borrow one of ours. And don’t mind the dormouse; he always sleeps in there.

Read it online or download the .pdf.

This special issue is dedicated to Eirik and Monica. Last month, they were airlifted to Stanford, California, where Eirik is actively waiting for a double-lung transplant. And, by “actively” we mean the phone call could literally come at any moment and they’ll be off to the hospital for life-saving (albeit really scary-ass) surgery.

As writers we wanted to do something to help and…it turns out there’s not a whole lot we can do. I mean, seriously, no one wants a writer doing advanced thoracic surgery, right? And some of us aren’t even allowed to think about transporting organs since that incident with the kidneys back in ’09. So as much as we wanted to help our friends, we realized there’s a finite limit to what we can do.

That said, writers are good for nothing if not producing meaningful Internet-based distraction. At the least, we could give Eirik and Monica something to read for a little while and maybe briefly take their mind off “the phone call.” As we’ve noted before, waiting for a bus is annoying; we can only imagine how frustrating it is waiting for new organs.

So, inspired by the likes of Bob Geldof’s Band Aid and Little Steven’s Sun City boycott, we decided to bring together a group of writers from the JDP community to provide a little escapism and maybe raise some awareness of Eirik’s situation in the bargain. (Just, you know, with infinitely less publicity than either of those other projects.)

Bono wasn’t invited. (Werner insisted.)

The result is pure JDP — we’ve got stories about Bigfoot, dead things, New Coke, and time travel, plus a poem about first curse words. Oh, and Ally Malinenko wraps things up by making the rest of us look bad and writing something really fucking touching. We hope you — and Eirik and Monica — enjoy it all.

And what can you, stalwart reader, do to help? First and foremost, they’re still looking for good cold cash to help offset transplant-related expenses not covered by insurance. You can make a donation on Eirik’s official COTA site.

Whether or not you can spare any coin, you can also help by getting the word out. A simple mention on Facebook, Twitter, or your blog would be amazing.

Finally, please direct whatever you’ve got – be it good thoughts, prayers, or (preferably) the healing power of The Force – towards Stanford.

As readers and writers of speculative fiction, heroes and magic are our stock and trade. Now we’re asking you to be one and make a little.

So step up, because Hulk smash cystic fibrosis, dammit.