Posts Tagged ‘ Fiction XI.II ’

“Sojourn in a Monkey Suit,” by Steve Smith

Aug 20th, 2014 | By

The aspirants lounged restively within the open chamber in paired seats, twelve across and twice as many deep. Bands of mist drifted throughout. At the lectern before them stood a display easel bearing the chalked inscription: Life 501: Unperfected Entities. Species Human. Group L7911933. Release Date Var.

An unclothed bipedal figure materialized out of the mist and went directly to the lectern where he spread open the mammoth book set there and leafed forward several pages. He glanced over the assemblage and intoned, “All right, pay attention please. And no drifting about.

“Hugo’s Private Space,” by Brenda Anderson

Aug 20th, 2014 | By

The ladder wobbled. Hugo reached for the climbing rose, lost balance and whump, landed on something firm but invisible several feet above the lawn. His secateurs landed beside him. Stunned, he looked around.

Birds still sang. Flowers bloomed. The cat slunk past. Nothing had changed, except his back garden had grown an invisible surface four feet above the lawn and one step from the ladder.

“New Guy Smell,” by Evan Purcell

Aug 20th, 2014 | By

Homeroom just ended. Me and Veronica were talking about prom stuff. She wanted to wear that red dress, even though it was cheap and store-bought. I guess it complimented her hair, which was also cheap and store-bought. Ever the diplomat, I tried to persuade her to stick to solid black. It’s slimming, especially in the hip area. But I couldn’t exactly make any hip area comments to her face. I mean, could you imagine? I would totally sound catty.