:: Fiction

The Oddity published 19/12/2016

Sometimes there is a rare moment of clarity – a moment when the bullshit and anger and fears and jealousies get pushed aside and the only thing left is the reality of you and me. But here is the problem…

What good is this reality when we’ve buried it under all that anger and jealousy and resentment? What fucking good is it?

And the problem is, there is no fixing, no repair, there is no thing to be done there is just too much wrong, too much that is fucked, too little that we can do, there is in fact nothing we can do, it is just fucking hopeless it is…

So.
Despair.

Chapter 8 of EJ Spode‘s novel The Oddity.

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By the Water Behind the House published 15/12/2016

The meat will later be washed with oil, filling in the salted cracks. The lungs-and-intestines, turned to stone, are slipped back in, lickable, packed around with sawdust, leaves.

By Elodie Olson-Coons.

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The Oddity published 12/12/2016

She spoke like we had known each other for 3000 years. And only then did I notice how beautiful she was. I know this is a common trope, but I have to use it here – If you have ever seen the face of a Botticelli angel, then you have an idea of what her face was like. She was runway model tall and thin and moved elegantly in a stoner way and had this smile that made me melt – the kind of smile you would give to a friend you have known for 3000 years. And from that moment we were friends.

Chapter 7 of EJ Spode‘s novel The Oddity.

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Slippage published

Slippage is always silver. Slippage is silver while static is an insufferable red. Static tastes like vinegar. I turn off my phone, I taste an absence of red.

By Miriam Karraker.

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The Tree. Which Tree? published 08/12/2016

We must stop projecting our own sorrows onto trees, onto young women, we must refrain from shoving our stupid dreams down someone else’s pipe, we must stop taking photographs of another person’s house.

By Sohini Basak.

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Midwinter published 07/12/2016

Boy squints. A doe speckled in ice. A flash. Cordite. They blink neon. Father moves; Boy hoofs through drifts like surf.

By Zac Allard.

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Li Fan published 06/12/2016

The residents of Pleasant, too new to have known her when she lived on the block, pick up the stray bottles and cans at the bottom of the street. An ambulance arrives to take the old woman away.

By Alexandra Chang.

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The Oddity published 04/12/2016

But anyway, just how do you change the clocks of memory? Do you forget to wind them? Do they lose time? Or is it like you have to reset them when you change the time zones of memory? You know, you remember it from here and then you remember it from there. From a different zone. I rather think the clocks of memory must reset themselves. But sometimes it takes us a while to adjust.

Chapter 6 of EJ Spode‘s novel The Oddity.

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Black Bear published 02/12/2016

He’d eaten the last of the seeds.
He was hollow, full of holes, hair falling out.
Soon would be winter, the world’s sunflower gone ripe.

By Justin Bendell.

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Never Trust Your Instincts published 29/11/2016

If you act like you don’t need money, people will be more likely to give it to you.

By Tara Roeder.

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