:: Fiction archive ( 2000-2005, click for articles pre-2006)

Portage published 15/02/2015

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That night Debra dreams she’s at home and looking into the bathroom mirror. A swarm of insects mass darkening in the glass. In its inexorable turn it takes on the shape of her own features. Seeing herself becoming what she sees entails a kind of disintegration. The dream ends as suddenly as it begins.

An extract from Karen Whiteson’s forthcoming novel.

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Formal Place Setting published 14/02/2015

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Noun: Fork
Gender: Male
Often we end up on the floor. (We like to be close to the devil). We sing tunes there that no one can hear. (Except the devil.) We miss ice cream. (We miss the devil.) We’re sons of acquiescence. (And the devil.) We adopt the recovery position. We spare excessive delicacy. We’re revolutionaries.

New fiction by Sophie Collins and Livia Franchini, with art by Anastasia Kashian.

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Fiction Call for Submissions published 30/01/2015

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Fiction submissions are open for a limited period…

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Steph n Deaf published 26/01/2015

“I’m Steph and my man eeze deaf. We lost our place cause we couldn’t keep up with the bills so we’re squatting this broke down van back of a building-site. Right now we’re a-walking along the Marylebone Road from Baker Street. Have to go slow cause E can’t keep up. Hasn’t been hisself since E drove is bike into them petrol pumps. Eeze lookin well, you’d never think there was sumpthink the matter with im.”

New fiction by Jay Merrill, with a painting by Anastaisa Kashian.

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Anna and Sigm. published 12/01/2015

“Often when I am invited to speak, I show this photograph. Look, it is a photograph of my father and me on holiday. No, of course it is not, do I seem to be a woman who would willingly wear a dirndl? Unless I were a small child. No, of course it is not really a photograph of my father and me on holiday.”

New fiction by Sharon Kivland

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Fetish Alphabet published 07/01/2015

Z is for Zombies

“‘I am undead,’ she called and spread apart her legs.”

A new fetish every day of the week, by Susannah Breslin.

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La Femme De Gilles published 20/12/2014

“From every image there came a new fragment of information, a painful little abstraction. None of these fragments was expressed in words, they were silent and without obvious meaning, but they accumulated in her heart and from this mysterious collaboration there would emerge a simple grammatical proposition to sweep away all the irrelevant images to come. In time, all the fragments would be reassembled in a precise truth – astonishingly short, and wholly contained in a fierce little group of words.”

Fiction by Madeleine Bourdouxhe , translated by Faith Evans

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I’m too sad to tell you about I’m Too Sad to Tell You published 09/12/2014

“I studied with Bas Jan in Los Angeles. One day he invited me to his studio. He arrived as I did, camera in hand, and led me inside. He handed me the camera, stood against the wall and started weeping. I turned on the camera and made the lens stare at him.

After three minutes and twenty-two seconds, the 16mm film ran out. Immediately, the tears stopped, the last one leaving his cheek the moment the film finished.”

New fiction by Juliet Jacques.

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The Dinner Party Wars published 22/11/2014

“The gunfire began just as Janis Sawyer was serving the main course, a platter of glazed duck with cavalo nero that she was loathe to drop. Shot studded the wall of the lounge. Her guests took cover beneath the cherrywood dining table. Janis dithered. She had plucked, jointed and baked the wild ducks herself, and the urge to protect dinner momentarily overrode her instinct for self-preservation. Dodging a fusillade from what sounded like flint muskets, she hopscotched across broken glass and splintered studwork to lay the platter upon the occasional table.”

Fiction by Matthew De Abaitua, art by Carrie Crow.

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Anthology One: Boxes published 19/11/2014

“1. A newly-wed couple goes up in a hot-air balloon, and as it lands two different people get out, with no knowledge of how they got there.

2. A family of four returns from a ten-day holiday in southern Spain: their home is no longer there, the ground is levelled, the neighbours have not noticed anything change.”

Martin MacInnes, with art by Carrie Crow.

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