:: Fiction

Stardust published 03/01/2017

Dear biped fossils, you think you are intelligent creatures? What kind of intelligence has evolved in you that you are addicted to petroleum, uranium, and electromagnetic waves? They say that intelligence is the property of highly complex matter. What complexity is it that you boast about when you sleep in your own radioactive shit? Maybe if we went back to being unintelligent matter we would avert the bloodbaths, the mountains of garbage, the huge and viscous maritime oil spills. Everyone wants a happy ending. Here’s a happy ending for you: may you all become extinct.

By Hisham Bustani translated from the Arabic by Maia Tabet.

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The Oddity published 02/01/2017

Yielding to triggers can wreak havoc on a relationship when it involves one person being triggered, but Penny had her issues and triggers too. She had been raped once, and she too had terrible abandonment issues. As I said, her father had peaced out on her, and to some extent so had her mom. There she was, a child angel with depressive tendencies, stranded in the middle of the South Dakota prairie with a plan to build a community around her. This was why she fought so hard for the Sioux Falls art scene, and this is why she drew me in so close. But our damage and our triggers worked against each other. All this came to a head the previous summer (summer 2015), when we travelled to Southern Italy.

Chapter 10 of EJ Spode‘s novel The Oddity.

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The Oddity published 25/12/2016

Triggered. What the fuck does that mean even? Everyone talks about triggering, but that probably means no one knows what they are talking about. One imagines it works the way that psychologists talk about operant conditioning. You put a bunny in front of a baby and make a loud noise and behold: The baby is now afraid of cute and cuddly things. You come to associate a stimulus with unpleasant emotions. Your brain becomes miswired.

Chapter 9 of EJ Spode‘s novel The Oddity.

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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…


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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