#American Short Fiction

[kristipetersenschoonover]

Back to School: Upcoming Can’t-Miss Writing Classes from Almond, ASF

Lately I’ve been feeling restless and wanting to take some writing classes—we all know that, as writers, not only is it like having homework for the rest of our lives, we’re never done learning. I’ve signed up for Steve Almond’s Almond Joy: A Trio of Classes to Kickstart Your Writing courses at Writing Co-Lab below, and wanted not only to share the opportunity out there with our 34 Orchard…

[have-you-read-this-short-fiction]

Art originally by @smrth (find their Twitter here)

[whereserpentswalk]

They say there's a city, somewhere in the US, nobody is allowed to know exactly where, where nobody lives. It could be in any state, some people say it's between Philadelphia and New York along the roads of New Jersey, some people say it's out in the Californian desert in the shadow of Los Angelos, others say it's out in the fields of Illinois south of Chicago. Maybe it's in all of them, maybe there are many, maybe they move.

People have driven through it. They're not allowed to say that they did but some of them do. It looks like a normal city at first, not particularly interesting, very modern in all the worst ways, with an endless sprawl and built up downtown, no way to walk anywhere and no public transportation, it would be a small unremarkable city if not for the emptiness. If you're there during the day there just aren't any people, there at all. If you look closely, you'll notice there aren't any animals or plants either, the lawns are Astroturf, and the trees are plastic, rats and birds and crawling bugs know well to avoid it. Even the cryptids and vampires and flying saucers know to steer clear of it. Only humans lack the instincts to avoid it.

Most who come by it just drive through it, maybe it'll seem off, but most forget it, cities built like that are rather empty anywhere. But if you have to get out it becomes so much worse. You'll step into a gas station, or a store, or fast-food place. And you'll just be faced with nothing. Oh, everything they need to have in there is there, it's perfect, everything is so very clean, and well stocked, it's the perfect model location. But there's nobody there, there's nobody anywhere. You can go anywhere there, from the Starbucks to the 7-11, and it'll be the perfect model that even a ceo would be proud of, like an ad, like a stock photo, everything in it's perfectly regulated place, it's just empty. The only thing everything is missing is people. It's not abandoned, just empty.

Now, fewer have been there at night, so we cannot be sure of this, but there are of course theories. Some say, that when it gets dark, truly dark, when there's no sun at all, under the starless sky of a country filled with light, the residents come out of their homes. They may look human at first, but the smell, the blank eyes, the pale skin, will make it clear they are not. The living dead, in every house there's at least one, and most houses have more, zombie husbands and wives with their 2.5 zombie children. They're not slobbering monsters though, they may be zombies, but they're civilized zombies, and at night they go about their business, copying the human world perfectly.

Undead businessmen will get in their cars and drive to their offices, typing random nonsense on their computers, and going to meaningless meetings, with their zombie bosses yell at them. Zombie housewives will expressionlessly take their children to school, where they'll sit as their zombie teachers babble word salad, something that almost sounds like human speech but has no meaningful words, at them, pretending to teach them something humans would learn. And zombie service workers will happily go to their jobs as cashiers, exchanging money they could never know the amount of, for good and/or services, and in their restaurants making food for customers to look at, and sit with, and pretend to eat, even though they of course cannot it. It's all unconfirmable, but it's at least been officially denied. And of course, for those foolish enough to stay the night there, the town will find itself with new residents.

And some even say the zombie's necromancer is somewhere in the city. Perhaps she's a lich now, having built up the city from a small town of zombies decades ago, now living somewhere at the center of the city, pickled in a glass tank, or siting on a throne of humming wires and tubes all grey and shriveled. Or perhaps she has passed on the torch, and it's now her granddaughter or great granddaughter, watching over the city, making sure it runs perfectly, sitting there in secret with a little black dress and sunglasses and a black hat over her golden hair, somewhere in the endless sprawl, making sure her children are all well behaved and functioning properly. It's normal to wonder why she does this. They say a witch's or warlock's mind is unknowable but it's safe to speculate. Some people think she's building an army, but there are faster ways to do that, ways that don't require an entire city. Some say she makes money off of it somehow, but I know enough about these things to know she can't. Personally, I think she was just trying to create her idea of the perfect city, a place with no social problems, a little lobotomized utopia in the void.

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

SUMMARY: Stranded in an Arctic mine, two lone survivors are forced to fight for their lives, evading and hiding from a new kind of terror.

Watch the film on Youtube

[nejjcollectsbooks]

thrifted bookish haul 4/mar/24

A novel, a short story anthology, a printed candle in the shape of an apple and a peculiar bookmark:

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. The Story; Love, Loss and the Lives of Women short stories chosen by Victoria Hislop.

You've no idea the emotions I emoted, the internal scream I screamt when I saw that cloth bookmark in the design of a prayer rug. I had seen those kinds of bookmarks in aesthetic book pics on Pinterest and had no idea where to get them so coming across one in a charity shop, still in its plastic cover, was incredible.

[intopermanence]

This now was how she would learn about the world, in sentences at meals; other people’s distillations amid her own vague pain, dumb with itself. This, for her, would be knowledge — a shifting to hear, an emptying of her arms, other people’s experiences walking through the bare rooms of her brain, looking for a place to sit.

Lorrie Moore, from Birds of America: Stories: “Terrific Mother”

[mysterytheater]

Been digging deeper into whatever Shirley Jackson stories I can find online. It's amazing the way Jackson can pull the dust-cloth off of the routine and the banal to reveal the sinister and disturbing.

I had to listen to this particular story a few times before fully understanding the implications of the subtext. So, if you do listen, listen closely.

Also, this is a wonderful reading by acclaimed actress Maureen Stapleton.

[theoscarsproject]

Innerspace (1987). A test pilot is miniaturized in a secret experiment, and accidentally injected into a hapless store clerk.

The cartoonish premise and pacing really wouldn't work without an actor like Martin Short in the lead role, and the decision to cast him is probably one of the better ones in 80s sci-fi. This really is a bonkers movie, but it gets away with it more often than not - it's genuinely funny, and the design feels pretty innovative and high quality for the era. Also I might have an extra sweetspot for it given it spawned one of my favourite episodes of Futurama haha. Dennis Quaid and Meg Ryan's storyline didn't do much for me at all though. 7/10.

[tmarshconnors]

"Truth is as terrible as death but harder to find."

Philip Kindred Dick, often referred to by his initials PKD, was an American science fiction writer. He wrote 44 novels and about 121 short stories, most of which appeared in science fiction magazines during his lifetime. 

Born: 16 December 1928, Chicago, Illinois, United States

Died: 2 March 1982, Santa Ana, California, United States

Influential Works: Philip K. Dick's impact on science fiction is profound, with several of his works adapted into popular films. "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" served as the basis for the iconic film "Blade Runner," directed by Ridley Scott. The movie's success helped cement Dick's reputation in mainstream culture.

Personal Struggles: Dick faced numerous personal challenges throughout his life, including financial difficulties and mental health issues. His struggles with mental health and experiences with hallucinations and visions heavily influenced his writing, contributing to the surreal and introspective nature of many of his works.

Prolific Output: Despite his personal challenges, Dick maintained a remarkably prolific writing career. He wrote 44 novels and over 100 short stories during his lifetime. His ability to produce imaginative and thought-provoking content at such a high volume is a testament to his dedication to the craft of writing.

Philosophical Themes: Dick's works often explore philosophical and metaphysical themes, challenging the boundaries of reality and identity. Questions about what is real, the nature of consciousness, and the impact of technology on humanity are recurring motifs in his stories, reflecting his deep interest in these subjects.

Posthumous Recognition: While he faced financial struggles during his lifetime, Philip K. Dick gained increased recognition after his death. His influence on science fiction literature and the exploration of complex philosophical ideas have earned him a lasting legacy. The Philip K. Dick Award, established in 1982, is given annually to outstanding science fiction works in paperback original format, honoring his contributions to the genre.

[haveyoureadthispoll]

From award-winning Métis author Michelle Porter, a powerfully funning and moving story told not just by five generations of Métis women, but also by the land, the bison that surround them, and two utterly captivating dogs. Carter is a young mother on a quest to find the true meaning of her heritage, which she only learned of in her teens. Allie is trying to make up for the lost years with her first born and to protect Carter from the hurt she herself suffered from her own mother. Lucie wants the granddaughter she's never met to help her get to her ancestors in the afterlife. And Geneviève is determined to conquer her demons—before the fire inside burns her up—with the help of the sister she lost but has never been without. Meanwhile, Mamé, in the afterlife, knows that all their stories began with her; she must find a way to cut herself from the last threads that keep her tethered to the living, just as they must find their own paths forward. And a young bison wants to understand why he keeps being moved and whether he should make a break for it and run for his life. This extraordinary novel, told by a chorus of vividly realized, wise, confused, struggling characters attempting to make sense of this life and the next, heralds the arrival of a stunning new voice in literary fiction.

[lem0nademouth]

i don’t know where every Leftist™️ got the idea that Israel is the Capitol to Palestine’s District 12 (something I have heard an actual person say), but please remember that these are real people. Every single one. They are not action figures you get to play with until dinner. They are not characters in a story created for your entertainment. I really thought the era of THG comparisons was over, but I was wrong! I was so fucking naive! So please: stop comparing Israel & Palestine to literal works of fiction.

And if you are insistent on using this analogy, please consider that maybe, just maybe: you are the Capitol. The wealthy, industrialized west is the Capitol. Because right now you get to play Monday morning quarterback to a war in a country you’ll never set foot in while I pray every night my childhood friends make it home to see their baby brother graduate high school next year. You are not the victim of this dystopia, you are the spectator.

edit: I’ve now seen ATLA comparisons in which Israel is the Fire Nation, to which I say shut the fuck up shut all the fucking way up

[misforgotten2]

Isn’t an anthology, made from different stories, a sort of Frankenstein monster of a book.

A book you very likely don’t have on your shelf #336

Cover by Richard Powers  --  1962

[have-you-read-this-short-fiction]

"CHOKECHAIN" is available to read here

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

"She buried her face in his flesh. His acceptance of her, she thought, was like a tide. She had lived a life of waiting, she thought now, and the waiting had ended, the thirst for a future was not in her anymore, she was there... It was wonderfully odd."

~ Arthur Miller, "Homely Girl, A Life"

[agheaven]

Francie by Ellen Howard

Laura

American Girl Magazine, November/December 1994

[intopermanence]

A running stream of diluted blood, runny, watery, whose blood, she wondered, mine or his. What is mine and what is his. His blood, his blood is seeping out of me, flowing out. I will bleed him to death.

Andrea Dworkin, from The New Woman's Broken Heart: “the slit”