A flash fiction piece of mine, “Inventory of the World”, was published in this month’s issue of Jersey Devil Press, an all-poetry-and-flash issue that’s short and sweet. Have a gander at Issue 73 – Jersey Devil Press, and read about what happens when your job is to catalog everything from silk scarves to rocket launchers.
A 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
I’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.
The 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.
The Doomsday Edition of Subtopian magazine is now at subtopian.com. My Subterran story for this month is one which doesn’t take place in the club at last, rather in a sinister retirement home that isn’t what it seems.
Also thanks to Eric Lawson for contributing a poem to this month’s issue which ends with the line ‘Love cannot find me tonight because she’s stranded somewhere out on the f’ing 405.’
It was the end of times A.D. and the world was made anew. Carpetbaggers came to town then, all offering things we needed in the wake of inevitable, quiet disaster. The whole town had been in shock for about a week and a half, but then we realized we had seen it coming, had been expecting this for quite some time now. I thought we would all miss the television but no one did, there was one old man in the village who still knew how to tell stories and he was now the town’s most popular resident. There were no more “foodies”, no crème fraiche or dried goji berries for 8.99 a pound, we were happy when we pulled up a root vegetable and it didn’t break in half.
Winter came early that year though, and the frost nearly killed us. Like pilgrims we considered cannibalism, but didn’t want to go back to the way it had been before the draught. Half of us survived and the other half tried to make the journey to other countries, but on foot and without electronic map devices, we forgot where they were, and none of us could speak any foreign languages anyway.
But we built, slept, and waited, and before long, the engineers returned and the buildings popped up again. Supermarkets and Walmarts came back and we played video games long into the night once more. Three generations passed and we forgot about the draught. We bought up everything we could for 8.99 a pound and we ate cheesecake topped with organic crème fraiche. It would be a thousand long years before the end of times, when we would learn how to make fire, how to dance, and the world would be made anew.
Subtopian Magazine Issue 6 is here, featuring “Berlin Ben’s Big Night Out”, a Subterran story aiming to satisfy your tech, German, and gender bending fetishes.
I conduct experiments on the fly. Nobody knows about them and 75 percent are failures. When something does hit though, oh boy. It’s like all the Generik card-giving days at once. Like knowing you’re smarter than everyone else in your class. It’s like being plugged into an electric socket designed specifically for satisfaction. Things start moving into place and you can’t turn back.
I was twelve when I had my first big success. Invented a love-o-meter that analyzed how truly in love a pair of individs were, by means of chemical responses in the brain and so forth. I tested it on my mother and father. This was followed by crying, shouting, and a stubby lawyer with parts of his beard missing.
My mother made me put the machine away, and from then on I had to invent in secret….read more at Subtopian