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

Three Dog Stories published 03/08/2015


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.

»

Soap Idol published 17/07/2015


“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.

»

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


“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

»

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


“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.

»

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


“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.

»

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


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.

»

Ghost Stations 2 – Moabit: 1983 published 30/06/2015


He tells her that you can get on to a train without a ticket here – there are no turnstiles; no one will stop them from entering. Every now and then, inspectors will come on to the trains and ask to be shown tickets and passes.

She watches him to make sure she understands what he’s telling her.

New fiction by Linda Mannheim.

»

Ghost Stations 1 – Dahlem: 1938 published 29/06/2015


On the U6 he passes the ghost stations – Orianienburger Tor and Franzosiche Strasse, Nordbahnhof and the station whose name he always translates, in his head, to Stadium of World Youth.

He travels to the East regularly because he can, because it is possible. And there, he visits cafes where they sell three quarters of a boiled egg. He walks down streets with almost no traffic, only a lone Trabbi here and there. He visits the museums behind the Wall.

The first time he had to exchange West German Marks at the official rate for more East German Marks than he could spend in a day. With them, he bought all three volumes of Das Kapital.

New fiction by Linda Mannheim.

»

Are you a Doctor, Sir? published 19/06/2015


“I wonder if there is a matter of identification, and if so, with whom, for in the structure of hysteria desire is subordinated to what is imagined to be the desire of the other, who has been granted a privileged position (yes, I am a doctor), and who is able to respond to what is expected (you can say anything to a doctor). There is the demand to a master (to show his mettle, what he does not have), a certain renunciation of one’s own desire in favour of another’s…”

Fiction by Sharon Kivland with art by Dawn Wooley.

»

The Cloning Passion, A Sort of Footnote published 18/06/2015


I felt conned, deceived. I didn’t say anything.
I needed time to absorb everything. I said: shit.
I said: I don’t believe you. Nonsense, utter nonsense, I said.
And yet I understood the whole logic and was awestruck by the monumentality and absurdity of the Collector’s project. He wanted to be remembered, not for replicas, but for meticulous forgeries, which was where most art theories foundered. But why call it The Museum of Relevant Moments?
I asked Zacharie. That’s a good question, he said, I don’t know, you’ll have to get a ouija board and ask him. He was probably fixated on a few moments in Buñuel’s films and just expanded on that. He saw himself as a magician, a magus, he just wanted to posit the world as a question mark.

An exclusive excerpt from Susana Medina‘s Philosophical Toys.

»