:: Fiction

Psycho Femmes II published 06/12/2017

I was picked up late one night at the metro airport in Romulus after a ten-hour flight by an emissary of the institution, a man with extremely large hands and knuckles and yet with the softest of voices, as he spoke to me about the city’s peculiar history. He wore a black or navy blue chauffeur’s cap with a polished brim. He drove like he was above the law, his frame filling the front seat, with a recklessness that approached something more like a parody of driving.

Had the Commander sent him, or was I on my own now?

An excerpt from Psycho Femmes II, a new novel from Nicholas Rombes.

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And They All Lived Happily Ever After published 28/11/2017

12 Oct

A diary is a documented confession of all your flaws, insecurities and irregularities.

Apart from anything else, a diary is needed so you don’t burden anyone with your presence.

I don’t want to feel like a burden. I want to feel that I’m being adored.

By Odarka Bilokon.

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Anatomical Drawings Made By Infants published 16/11/2017

The car/bike transmogrifies as I navigate the streets for a place to park. Side streets are Preston (home town). Signposts are in Welsh and unintelligible. Some streets are carpeted over the punctured tarmac and too narrow for a car to pass, though I have just [looking over my shoulder] driven into it, or remember doing so on another occasion. “I am aware of not being a member of your group but please can u help me park?” “Where can I?” Idle spiel about maintaining division between workers and consumers. I move on. I cycle up a steep hill where a cartoon family play exuberantly.

By Lauren de Sá Naylor.

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The Mirror Room published 27/10/2017

My diseased cat and I are fugitives; our numbered days are spent munching mud and contracting amoebas with which to decompose ourselves in beauty. In two hundred years they’ll uncover our skeletons.

But I can’t find the cat.

By Alyssa Gillon.

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Live Stream published 12/09/2017

So my friend is talking about the stars and the city lights and kind of spinning his wheels on that stuff. And I’m tuning him out, looking at something else in a different browser tab, some shoes I’m thinking about buying. And I’m only half listening to his voice—

By Kaj Tanaka.

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Lynne Anne published 06/09/2017

Lynne Ann still checks the M size on the uniform order slip as she did on the day she got the job as the shop’s only beauty consultant.

By Carla Manfredino.

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All Gone published 29/08/2017

Remember when he wrote BORN FREE on the wall in big letters and some of them were backwards but then they seemed to make even more sense? Do you remember this happening?

By Toby McCasker.

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In the Summer published 31/07/2017

When he is finished I try to feed the girl, but she hisses and spits and snaps her pincers at my outstretched fingers. I jump and cradle my hand and glance at the man, and think about how in a few months he might look at me proudly, as I lower his children into a steaming bath.

New fiction by Amaryllis Gacioppo

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The Phenomenology of Envy published 28/07/2017

But it only lasts so long. Like a rollercoaster titled “Be her!” The safety bar lifts, you get out, and the contrast is dizzying. Standing on your own feet is disappointing.

New fiction by Andrew Gretes.

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The Sunrise Murder published 19/07/2017

In certain respects the Sunrise murder was undoubtedly one of the most extraordinary events in South African criminology. So much so that some of our senior detectives still refer to it as being — quite literally — the most accomplished of murders. The case is also of interest because it shows us how sheer luck and coincidence in similar cases are sometimes of greater value to the detective than all of his skill. However, these days it’s generally accepted that skill also played a substantial role in this particular case.

The small bushveld town of Sunrise lies so far from the main roads, is so removed from the hustle and bustle of the big wide world that most city-dwellers haven’t even heard of it. There is a small train station three miles from the town which is the village’s only connection with the outside world. Every so often a lost motor-car finds its way to Sunrise. And then the driver and passengers are usually surprised to come across a village in such a lonely spot.

By Eugène Marais. Translated from Afrikaans by Christo Snyman.

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