It took most of the evening, but three tenants from Block 6 finally broke through the barred door into the long-abandoned basement flat.
‘That’s it — we’re through,’ said Jack, the burly building manager. He wiped muck from his face as he lowered the sledgehammer to the carpet. Sweat clung to his chest like a bib.
Dust settled and the door lay in splinters before them. The beige apartment beyond was exposed. Continue reading “Square-Eyed in Block 6 by Darcy Lin Wood”
August 14th 2164
No, please no.
The synthesiser toppled over the edge of the refreshment trolley. The secretary lunged to catch it, but gravity beat him and the machine met the floor with a crack.
Mark two synthesisers were known for being temperamental (and cheap), so he suspected he’d broken it. Picking it up, he placed a cup in the dispenser to test it: “Coffee, white.”
The synthesiser acknowledged his request with a beep and liquid flowed into the cup. He removed it, looked at the contents, smelled it. “Fan-bloody-tastic.” The device had given him hot cherryade—the coffee files were corrupted. Continue reading “Operation Loch Ness by C.R. Berry”
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME…”
“Mister King. Please. We’re trying to help you. If you would just be quiet for a moment—”
“I’M NOT LISTENING TO YOU. LA LA LA-”
“MARTIN! Thank you. We won’t tolerate childish behaviour, regardless of your emotional state. We are attempting to ease you through this painlessly.” Continue reading “September 31st by Edward Field”
You are not afraid of spiders.
The one on the bathroom wall has a body as big as your thumbnail; glossy, iridescent. Legs stretching like black wire over white tile.
A bath of steaming clear water waits. Book lies on the side, pages curling in the heat. Mug of tea ready.
You are not afraid but you remove the spider all the same. Fetch a glass from the bedside table, a cardboard coaster. Blue with a silhouette of an orangutan printed on. Souvenir from that trip to the zoo when you held the hand of a love now lost, let yourself dream of returning one day in a wished-for future with your child. Smooth, stubby fingers held in yours. Round eyes staring at the animals. Blink that memory away now. Continue reading “The Weight on Your Shoulder by Liz Xifaras”
We share this space, this
same space, occupied by you
and I. The same time,
identical air, the very light. Continue reading “A Rift in Our Continuums by Charlotte Ozment”
Right now, I’m sitting in a queue about to have my memories erased, and soon they’ll be lost forever – such things are inevitable, I suppose, or so they tell me; but in these last few minutes, while I still can, I want to recall the day I first saw her, before it’s all gone; and when it’s all gone, as a common courtesy, maybe for the time being, you could remember it for me, on my behalf – at least until the moment comes when you have your memories erased too. Continue reading “Wake Up To Yourself by Aviva Treger”
Hello, I would like you to read this if that is okay. I do not remember my name but I can remember when I lost it. It had been a long time since anyone had used it, that being inclusive of myself as I found little need to. Introductions are a very unpleasant experience that I would prefer to avoid. One day, a boss had asked for it, on the account that they had lost all record of my original people-name. Burned in a fire they told me. Continue reading “DRONE: A Tale of Life, Work and Chemical Lobotomy by L. L. Kipling”