At the end, when the last star dies and the cold begins to seep in, what will be the totality of our accomplishments? What will have been the point? And will anyone notice that we’re gone?
Probably not.
Well, your cat will notice because who is going to get annoyed when they knock a teacup off the desk? And what’s the point of barfing on the rug in the middle of the night if someone doesn’t step in it the following morning?
If the true terror at the center of cosmic horror is the vast indifference the universe has for us, does that mean the closest thing we have to any sort of compassionate connection is . . . our cats? Ah, we are doomed.
Pay attention to them while you can, then, but not for more than five minutes at a time, and don’t—don’t ever—rub them like that.
This fall, Underland Press is publishing Even Cozier Cosmic, a follow-up anthology to last year’s The Cozy Cosmic. The cosmic indifference of the Universe (and of the dreaded intelligences that swim out there) may be unrelenting, but we still have to go about our days. We’re looking for stories of cozy cosmic horror that illuminate the elegance and grace and compassion that persists against the vast background of unrelenting emptiness. We reject nihilism and rejoice in the comforting weight of a furball in our laps (never mind that its razor-sharp claws will cut us the moment it thinks we’re going to move). We want to teeter along that fine line between big-eyed devotion and stark raving madness.
The reading period for Even Cozier Cosmic will be June 1st to June 30th. Stories should run less than 5,000 words. Poetry should run more than a few lines. Pay rate will be $0.01/word, along with other industry standard contract terms. Stories should be sent in either .doc or .rtf format to cozycosmic@underlandpress.com. Stories sent prior to June 1st will be ignored until the reading period begins.
