Afternoon in the Grass (flash fic, ~400K)

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IMG_1221It feels like chills down my spine, like all your hairs standing on end, like everything’s operating at the speed of light, at a hundred degrees, at lightning voltage, at maximum volume.

It feels like nothing at all.

I lie in the grass. It’s Tuesday. Wendy lies beside me, eyes closed, breathing softly.

I trail my fingers along her arm, smooth and warm in the sun.

Nothing.

I press up against her, back to front. The strands of her brown hair brush against my face.

Nothing.

The grass doesn’t tickle. The sun doesn’t heat. The wind doesn’t whip against my skin.

I kiss her lips. Nothing.

A year ago, everything was different. Nerves were alive. Love was new. Accidents had yet to happen.

A stray piece of Wendy’s hair lies against her cheek. I fold it back behind her ear, tuck it alongside the others. Does she feel like silk? Does she feel like straw? I don’t know. She smells like roses and rainwater.

Wendy rolls over onto her side, facing me. She smiles, lips pink and wide. Genuine. She reaches for my hand and entwines our fingers, blue on black.

Wendy closes her eyes. I close mine. Behind my eyelids it is dark with white sparks, dots in the night sky. The sparks feel like recycled electricity channeled through me, just passing by on their way to somewhere else. They feel like fire and ice at the same time, they feel like a memory. They feel like everything and nothing at the same time.

I feel cold. I feel like frosting and expired eggs, I feel tired, I feel like I need a drink. I feel like taking off Wendy’s clothes, I feel like saying goodbye to her forever. I feel like a father and a mother, a bastard and a liar, a priest and a prisoner, a thief and a champion. I feel like a newborn and an old man, I feel like I’ve just climbed Everest. I feel like I’m all choked up, like I can’t breathe, like the cops are hunting me down as I’m speeding down the highway, seconds away from freedom. I feel like crying.

I feel nothing.

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A couple things…

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Diamonds-on-My-Windshield-by-corin-reyburnA flash fic of mine called Diamonds On My Windshield (thank you Tom Waits) has been published over at mashstories.com. They did a bit of editing here that I think botched the poetry of the wording a bit, but the meat of it is still basically the same. Mash Stories is a flash fiction competition where one has to use three specific words in their story. Check out the competition guidelines.

subvercity_transmit_logoAlso worth another shout-out is the podcast I write for and co-produce, the subterranean, time-out-of-time joint known as the SubverCity Transmit. Check out our latest podcast featuring the story “Companion” by Kyle Whitacre. What happens when your only companion is an artificial intelligence?

2113: An Oral History of the Last God

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2113A beautiful Apocalypse, fresh off the presses from Subtopian Magazine. 2113 is a collaborative effort of 20+ writers teaming up anonymously to tell the tale of the rise, the fall, and the rising again of a new civilization. It’s a fascinating read, and I’m not saying that simply because I’m a part of it! The writers have really outdone themselves to make a beautiful, tragic, hopeful piece of work that I’m proud to have participated in and to get a chance to share with you. Buy here: 2113: An Oral History of the Last God

SubverCity Transmit podcast

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subvercity_transmit_logoI’m happy to announce the premiere episode of a podcast production I write for and co-produce, along with voice-over artist and co-producer Erin B. Lillis. The podcast is called SubverCity Transmit and can be found at subvercitytransmit.com. The initial episode features one of my Subterran universe stories, Ichiban Marie Clairevoyant’s Soulkiller School, previously published in Subtopian Magazine. If you have a moment please listen, comment, and spread the word.

Listen here.

Thank you,
– Corin

The Subtopian: Selected Stories

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The Subtopian: Selected StoriesPortland-based literary journal Subtopian.com has put out a collection of short stories featuring Kirby Light, Trevor Richardson, and yours truly, among others. The True Unerring Secrets of Utopia by Corin Reyburn finally finds itself in print. Check it out here. “Dealing with the issues of our impending future, these stories darkly and humorously express a view of society in between two extremes. We are not Utopia or Dystopia — yet. We are Subtopian.” Always happy to be included amongst such fine folk. Subtopian is also interested in new writers at this time, so check out their site, and if it’s right up your alley like it is mine, come on into the fold.

– Corin

Absolution in Subtopian

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AbsolutionThe brilliant Subtopian Magazine has updated their format to showcase work more frequently, and expanded the content to include categories such as film, music, comics, and humor. They continue to publish fiction though, thankfully for me, and you can read Absolution, a story about forgiving and forgetting, featured currently on the site.

Thanks,
– Corin

Poetry from abroad

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ImageEye of the storm
Ten minutes to heaven
Abstract love and heady wine
Writers of poetry never
Sleep on airplanes
And winners of fortune never
Bet on a Wednesday
My mother was a tiger
And my father made of sand
We were all born late in winter
Never walked upon dry land
Summer
We all melted into glass
Fused together
Like a burnt and wary accident
On a Tuesday when
No one showed up for work
I was all smiles on Monday
When my father drove me home
By the weekend I was parentless
Naked and alone
I worked through all my problems
I dismissed them one by one
Finally
I was allowed to have some fun
I walked the streets at night
Ran naked in the sun
Empty

Thoughtless
An enemy of the state
A child on the run
Clues
A dozen or so fallen by the wayside
You, for one
A basilisk, a shadow
A nymph or satyr, demon not
Chosen
Truth and fiction
Beauty beyond reason
In bed I lie
In the morning I steal
For you I felt nothing
As for me, nothing was real

9/10/2013