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

Over, In and Under (after Über Dekkerinnerungen ) published 31/10/2015

Lacan on the drawing board - Emma Bolland 2013

Together hangs my psychic hand-breath (hysterical swinging neurotic), I am so often come to the lake, me at the breast beginning and beckoning, the only and the fearful year of the child in get-nothing is living. We are.

A (hysterical) translation of of Freud’s Über Dekkerinnerungen, without a dictionary, by Emma Bolland.

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“Attention, Sinners!” 2014 published 08/10/2015

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New fiction by Chris Kenny.

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Jolts published 15/09/2015

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I’m living in Paris once more, once more a suitcase and a short-term teaching job at Paris VIII. It’s true I asked the same question and I probably broke the i-Ching and things will never make sense again, because the question was exactly “will things ever make sense again?” “I’ll never do this again for you. Never again,” he says. “I’m sorry,” I say. “You have some thinking to do, bro.” “What did I get, again?” “恆,” he says.

New fiction by Fernando Sdrigotti.

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A formidable etiquette published 14/08/2015

DACS; (c) DACS; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

Terrine for Tatra, furring as he looked at it with a new bluish mould. And on Aophe’s plate, the split, sauce-dribbled lobster twitched. Noodle stared glassily at it, for once her big pugtongue hidden. A clink of a glass against teeth. That was Mar. She wasn’t always poised: her own dinner, a baked potato topped with plain cottage cheese, had just sprouted eyes.

The steak tartare, too, was more wrong than anyone cared to admit.

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Three Dog Stories published 03/08/2015

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This was the year of weather, when winds came and swept up all the neighborhood dogs. Dogs clogging rain gutters. Whole families crushed by falling dogs. On the news they just shook their heads. An old lady died in a windstorm somewhere nearby and when they opened her up they found her lungs filled with golden hair.

New fiction by Quinn Gancedo, with art by Sophie Herxheimer.

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Soap Idol published 17/07/2015

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“At night, I watch for the slick yolks of her eyes bulging from the corner and mimic them now as I lie on my own floor still webbed by the black threads of her hair. I can no longer be sure what is true or how long I have lived here, my toes tangled by the knotted ropes I could once reassure myself with certainty that I had never intentionally swallowed.”

New fiction by Jacque Staub, with art by Sophie Herxheimer.

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Fiction – A call for submissions published 12/07/2015

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“3:AM is opening fiction submissions for a short period. I’m looking for innovative, or formally challenging new writing. The opening date is today: 13th July 2015, and the closing date/time is midnight on 31st July (GMT).”

Joanna Walsh, Fiction Editor

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Ghost Stations 5 – Potsdam: 1991-92 published 03/07/2015

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“When he first begins to commute to the University of Potsdam he takes the S-Bahn to Golm, a tiny station in a place he could not have gone to before. One day, on his way there, he looks out the window of the train and spots an engineer with his trousers open. They’re in Greibnitzsee, where the train begins. The train rolls – its brake unsecured – and the engineer looks up as he’s taking a pee, tries to fasten his trousers, and runs to catch up with the train again, stumbling.”

New fiction by Linda Mannheim.

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Ghost Stations 4 – The Wall: 1989 published 02/07/2015

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“It is not possible to get on the train. So he keeps walking, over to Kaiserdamm, past the Turkish grocer handing out bananas to the new arrivals, who are arriving from a place where bananas are a rarity. Like a ghost vehicle, a lost two-stroke, a Trabbi drives by. The driver is honking the horn, over and over again. The occupants, wild-haired from the wind, are riding with their upper bodies stuck out of the windows, roaring with laughter, waving at everyone. The people on the street turn to watch, then begin to applaud.”

New fiction by Linda Mannheim.

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Ghost Stations 3 – U6: 1986 published 01/07/2015

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The ghost stations have guards with Kalashnikovs patrolling, pacing back and forth in dim shadows, dipping behind pillars on the barren platforms. The entrances to these stations are sealed and the trains do not stop here. There are no benches, no ticket validators, no passengers.

New fiction by Linda Mannheim.

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