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Essay by Tricky Menthal | Two former tobacco smugglers melt into the German underground scene. Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five, but it’s a pop-up art exhibition dedicated to Weimar Republic cinema. Mental.
read moreEssay by Tricky Menthal | Two former tobacco smugglers melt into the German underground scene. Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five, but it’s a pop-up art exhibition dedicated to Weimar Republic cinema. Mental.
read moreFiction by Edward McLaren | At once unflinching coming-of-age story and searing indictment of multicultural Britain, Bothelford’s Gone will stand as literary testament to one of the most egregious instances of mass rape in modern memory outside of wartime.
read moreFiction by Simon Rowat | Benzo. Gun. Zip restraints, at the ready. There’s no innocent explanation for any of this. It’s a break and entry. Pure and simple.
read moreFiction by Didier Smith | He looked down and saw the handle of his steak knife, protruding from his gut. He looked up. Hayley was standing over him, eyes wide in shock. Fuck, that was a lot of blood.
read moreFiction by Jeremiah Suit | After I wiped the puke from my chin, I turned toward Mr. Elephant Dick. Racked another round and blasted him dead of center. Fucker didn’t move.
read moreFiction by Kirbster | George Holiday, the driver of the Catalina, was dangerous-looking despite wearing glasses. His Coke-bottle lenses gave him monstrous green eyes. He wore his black hair past the ears, and it always looked greasy. George carried the aroma of day-old Aqua Velva
read moreFiction by Arbogast | “Are you telling me that our victim was killed by a vampire?” “Maybe,” Tod said with some hesitation.
read moreFiction by Andrew Jankowski | Mr. Schultz labors down the stairs holding his dirty laundry. He kicks the bottom step three times, like a lazy mule trying to drive away a pestering insect. Or Dorothy conjuring her homeward flight. Short, fat, awkwardly proportioned, obsessive little Schultz is out of breath by the time he crosses the tiny lobby of the small decaying hotel where I work as night manager
read moreFiction by Simon Rowat | I re-enter the study and step over his writhing body and center myself with a long inhalation by his writing desk before creaking grandly into his leather armchair. My anger has subsided
read moreFiction by Devon Eriksen | Our first day of travel starts with a jolt. There’s no warning. The deck just leaps up and slams into my spine.
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