#Slipstream fiction

[flameswallower]

HEY I HAVE A SHORT STORY COLLECTION COMING OUT IN JANUARY!!!

This will be my first full-length collection of short fiction! It includes a brand new story, several stories that have been previously published but are difficult to find/that I don't think many people have read, and a few stories that you might already know and love from anthologies like The Book Of Queer Saints.

Right now, the publisher is on the lookout for reviewers who might like to receive an ARC! If you're interested, please fill out this form.

[jessicatheearthling]

if you hate the digital world but also love it

if you are fascinated by AI, alternate dimensions, consciousness, simulation theory...

and you like sometimes surreal, magical-realism type slipstream fiction

And live in your deep thoughts

Then you might enjoy the book collection I'm creating?? There will be seven, and they intertwine and overlap, but they can be read in any order 🪽🌿🚲

ISBN: 978-1803814520

available at any online bookseller but it's cool if you support a local bookstore by requesting that they order it for you 💕

[nochilleftb3hine]

^^ books I've been browsing in Barnes and Noble over the past month that I'm trying desperately to avoid buying in order to remain financially responsible ^^

[thenosyjournal]

It's HERE!

I am staggered. It's a real pleasure to have this on my shelves. The amount of work and care put into this story and this book shine through. I am indeed chuffed to bits. Thank you so much, Khorazir!

[emma-d-klutz]

when I was 14 I read a lot of Kafka for fun and adults were like “that’s good. tell colleges that,” but what they didn’t get was I wasn’t reading it in an intellectual way I was reading in a 14yo way. no one else understood my angst quite like Franz

[voidzlitmag]

I am literally begging writers to submit to this lit mag, I am a real person trying to start up a passion project but I am failing, pls send me your writing so voidz doesn't die like my dreams.

[scifipinups]

Kitty Aldridge Slipstream (1989)

[ystlumbelfry]

Are You Bored?

Hi there, lovely to meet you. I'm writing something that's a bit out there. I like to think it's entertaining but I have found myself extremely biased in my favor.

SO

If you are sitting there, scrolling through lurking and looking for something silly or satisfying, have I got the proposition for you?

Read this, tell me what you think, and kill 25 minutes or so doing something I hope will be fun.

"What do I get out of it?" well I'm glad you asked.

Here is a really good song and some Walasse Ting Flamingoes.

Now if you'd like, here is my story

Thank you for your time, I hope you enjoy :^)

[paranatellonta]

Summer Salad

I made the mistake of leaving the window open while I was tossing the pasta salad. The scent of fresh herbs engulfed me, and before I knew it, a tall creature had crept into my home, body and face both hidden in large flaps of loose clothing in every possible shade of brown. Ignoring—or perhaps not hearing—my protests, the figure stalked towards the kitchen counter and dug its long claws into the pot. It lifted its hands and let the slick goodness of fusilli and salad leaves run between its fingers, allowed it to fall down its arms and to the floor tiles with a wet splat. Outside, a storm was brewing, sending cherry tomatoes and mozzarella balls into a juggling act as wild as the whirling thoughts in my head. Somehow, olives crunched between the creature’s teeth like crisp bug shells. Soundtracking itself with Dionysian groans, it emptied the pot of pasta salad, and then continued to lick every last drop of oil off its wrists, its elbows, its shoulders.

It was still hot. A moist 25°C stuck my shirt to my back. But everywhere, autumn was creeping in on the green of nature—even in my pot of pasta salad.

—

[Image description: Close-up of a colourful pasta salad in a metal pot. The salad includes lettuce, basil, olives, tomato pieces, and mozzarella.]

[innocentlymacabre]

30 Days, 30 Lines Challenge: Day 7 post your favourite line that you wrote or edited that day

Trance gulped and readjusted his grip on the sword. He nervously side-eyed Eda, wondering what the play was. He’d accepted that the ship itself wasn’t somehow going to hurt him, but he couldn’t ignore the growing feeling in his gut that was warning him to turn tail and run as far away from the rooftop ledge as possible. He’d lived in Thredfrost for a long, long time, so he was no stranger to trouble. He knew how to stare it down, and, most importantly, when not to. He’d developed a sort of warning system. This ship had grabbed the system by the throat and burnt it with a vengeance. And then everything cut off. It was all still there, of course, but Trance couldn’t feel anything any longer. There was no hatred or hunger from the flames, there was no heat fanning his face, there was just nothing. A heavy sort of nothing, one that hung in the air and made you aware of its presence, but wasn’t really there all the time. The kind of feeling you get when you know you’re meant to be doing something, but can’t, for the life of you, figure out what. It was like the wool had been pulled over his eyes so unmovingly that he'd been forced to come up with a world of his own for fear of going insane in the nothingness.

~~ Now They Call Me the Plague [x]

If you're enjoying these excerpts, I would absolutely love you forever if you could buy me a coffee to support its development!

[dynamobooks]

Anna Kavan: Ice (1967)

[flameswallower]

HEY!!!!

You can pre-order a paperback copy of my chapbook Traveler's Tales right now! Four stories! Fables, ennui, monsters, body-hopping spirits, an alien abductee support group.

[patrickwmarsh]

Rose

“Nobody wanted to tell you this would happen, but everybody knew it would. And yes, it is terrible. Still, a bunch of people would have spared you this patch of undead and memory, but if there is one thing I know about human beings it is that they like to let other human beings learn the hard way. They believe suffering builds character, no matter how severe it is,” Aricia said. He was a short,…

[upendingblog]

The Refugees, #5 ‘Discordant’ (Campfire Stories Volume 2 Issue 5)

The roommates prepare to leave, revealing to Taro that he's alone in a crowded room.

The Refugees Campfire Stories: Volume 2, Issue 5 Chosen prompt: ‘Discordant’ from the English language dictionary screensaver After spending the better part of the morning nervously trying to decide what supplies to pack for moving out of their safehouse prematurely, the group heard a convoy of tracked armored personnel carriers rumbling up the street. A column of pure black vehicles. Not…

[the-iyan]

The Futile Climbing

Hi there, this is a story. It's written by the author known as T. Belfry. Tumblr has completely fucked the formatting so mind the odd indentations and messy paragraph placement. For a full reading see my Instagram @Nimnat Hope you enjoy!

Another key component of civilian public espionage that gets overlooked too many times is cacophonology.  It’s like if the Charleston and the Yemenite Step found Skanking and Metaphysics alone at a party. And all four had a tumble between the sheets. Now to be perfectly fair to my fellow investi-Gators. I personally only learned it after I left the nation's elongated nipple. 

I was at this home away from home in Rhode Island called the “Floating Floridian New England Barge&Gill”. I wasn’t fully licensed yet see, I had fled the state awaiting the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services Division of Licensing decision. I’m not a superstitious type, but I have found all clerical matters work swimmingly well so long as I’m not hanging around when it’s done. 

Granted I’m not this place’s usual clientele. After the deceptively dingy dock was a dense forest of tulip tree tall and red wood-wide people. Thick layers of flannel, vinyl and denim so intricate Theseus himself would be left without a clue. I was like morning fog on the forest floor, slipping and sliding through angry leather work boots. 

“Hi welcome to Floating Floridian New England Barge&Gill what can I get started for you today?” Mark practically growled at me. I let go of his leg and stood up.

“Sorry, Marp. Can I get food at the bar too?” I read his name tag wrong, so I thought his name was Marp. 

“The bar’s closed, it’s 3 something in the morning. But if you’d like a table I could-”

“Say Marp, could I sit at the bar?”

“I just told you it’s closed. We aren't serving alcohol.”

“I know. Can I have a seat, at the bar?” Mark looked annoyed and confused. 

“I’d still like just food Marp, I would just like it at the bar.” 

I was attempting to clarify but I see in retrospect how that comes off as extremely condescending. Which explains how poorly Mark and I get along at first.

“What can I get you?” Behind Mark was a brick wall, with shelves cut into the material. 

There was a metal gate over the booze, but you could see colors shimmering through. The place was lit with deep orange lights. All the noise and faces reflected off the bright bottles like demons hiding in flames. But the spirits inside were liquid glass, catching flickers and dancing with them. 

“What do you boil your fries in?” I asked.

“Our fires?” he stopped filling my glass with sparkling water.

“Yeah, what oil? Do you use?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could you ask? Please?”

Mark left my cup half full. Which was an inconvenience because I actually was feeling quite thirsty. I saw my reflection in one of the bottles for a moment.

He didn’t blink. Two oily black eyes begging for a swim. His face was a dark mossy green. Thick hair flowed from his face like a hipster Jesus.

“Who are you?” The face didn’t say it with me. So, I knew it wasn’t mine at least.

He mouthed something. It must’ve been meaningful because he seemed very sorry to say it.

“I can’t hear you; can you hear me?”

He mouthed it again. Wherever he was it had the worst reception I have ever seen.

“We use peanut oil.” Mark came back.

“Thank you Marp! Can I have the endless fried shrimp and basket of fries hold the shrimp?”

“So you just went the fires?”

“Exactamundo Marp my friend.” I handed him the laminated menu with a smile. “And hold the ketchup!” I brought my vegan ketchup.

“What are you doing here?” Mark almost slammed the pitcher into the table.

“What am I doi-”

“Yeah!? You just ordered the fucking shrimp no shrimp.”

“I only wanted the fries. And I thought-”

“Dumbass there are no fires! There is no shrimp! This is a front. For drugs. Are you here. To buy drugs!”

“Oh! No, I’m good for now Marp. Not a lot of money so, water for me I guess.” I took a sip of my sparkling water, which he still hadn’t finished pouring.

“It’s $20 a glass. And my name Is Mark.” Mark began to walk away.

“Wait, why? Wait is this a full glass!? Why didn’t you ask me if I wanted any?” I despertly reached for his pitcher but my hands could not hook it before he left.

It was then that I noticed my glass was not only not filled all the way, but it’d seem someone had dropped an alka seltzer in my drink. Now don’t get me wrong here, I don’t just go around drinking any fizzy drink in sight. But you’ve got to understand my reasoning. That was a $20 glass of water, I didn’t wanna waste it. 

How to know if you’re tripping 1.0.1

I

How do things feel? Touch memory always goes first for me. You know that feeling where you know you have been touched or have touched something. But the moment that sensation stops it feels like it never happened. I always check that first by touching my face. But this could also be the effect of a mild stroke so next.

II

How do things sound? Listen to some music and focus on that feeling. If it has depth of sound, rich tonality, and a smooth melody you may be high. When you lose your sense of self and environment, your appreciation for music skyrockets. But you could also just be listening to ELO. Or the Beach Boys.

III

How do you think? The final test requires a mirror or any reflecting surface, in my case it was a champagne bottle. Look at your face and think. Do I feel high? If the answer is yes, you may actually be high. If you said no? You’re hurling through space bud.

I have a fuzzy recollection of what happened next. I fought a dinosaur, killed a bee, stung a guy, and paid some lady to tail my ex for a month. But in either case I awoke at a dennies with a half-eaten plate of fries, and some vegan ketchup. My large pink shirt and green cargo shorts got replaced with a mankini, a constructor hat and three-piece shirt. My phone started to ring.

“Ahoy?” I used to answer the phone like a dick.

“Private dic for higher how may I help you?” I scooped cold fries into my mouth and listened through my chewing. From what I could make out, it was a companion of mine. She was calling to make sure I was ready for cycling that evening.

“Oh, absolutely I’m just having breakfast now.” She seemed confused by that answer, as it was sunset not rise. But I didn’t know that yet. I also had not known I was going cycling with her that evening. Apparently, somewhere in my stooper I had promised her I was going.

I swallowed my very cold fries and ran out of the door after leaving a 200% tip. I was met with an angry horde of people in the parking lot. All of whom had an issue with my ear bleeding solo singing to Dull Citrus. They told me so. In one sentence. In unison.

I sat outside in long white gym shorts and a green T-shirt. I have a collection of civilian clothes I had to raid to source the outfit though. She pulled in, we exchanged pleasantries and off we went to stationary bike rides.

Imagine a median the width of a house, that’s the city. Tall rectangular buildings on long rectangular blocks. With tight thin veins moving cars around like ants.  Nestled amongst the grey and black was a little white corner with orange lights. Almost like a reverse orange. There was a large deep orange “1917” on the glass doors taller than Goliath and built for him judging by the heft of it. I had to dig my heels into the brick just to move it a sliver.

“Welcome to CycleTsar on Gee Ilses Rd. How can I help you?” She was the single most beautiful human I had ever seen. Her smile was lightning to my spine and her eyes melted you with warmth and kindness. In front of her reflection was the concierge who resembled an accountant in gym clothes. Nice, but accountant so.

“Yeah, we’re here for the...excuse me are those peppermint?” My companion took over while I stared at the glass mouth filled with loose mints. Not individually wrapped peppermints, not loose mint leaves. Just plain unwrapped mints in a bowl shaped like a mouth. I think I even saw stray hair in there somewhere.

“What size sir?” She was the size of a mollusk leaning on a rack of shoes that was so long it disappeared over the horizon.

“Do you have 13, men?” It’s very important to specify that point. Why can't there just be one system for all size feet? Who the hell knows. She rolled her eyes and started the trek down the rack. I looked around for my companion, but she disappeared somewhere.

“Here you go.” The shoes she was holding were almost pointed with a thick metal tooth on the bottom. But I was afraid she would ask for a tip, so I grabbed them and rushed down a hellish orange hallway to catch up with the only reason here. Who was laughing and talking with a group of sweaty toned statues calling themselves people.

The room was half window half brick façade. Against the window the company had provided small lockers under a row of benches. Against the wall were teas, lemonades, and water. Free, I assumed. There were a handful of us there. 18 total Not including myself. She had found herself the topic of conversation for three of them.

“Have you tried hot yoga here? The teache-” He was a young Idris Elba in neon green tanktop and white joggers. The man looked like he could bend a car.

“You should absolutely see my tattoo artist sh-” It would be unfair to describe this woman as anything but in peak human condition. Her eyes could draw real blood and her arms looked as dense as a neutron star.

“Do your shoes have Velcro too?” I was sitting down struggling to untie my own shoes.

As I struggled, and got a larger pair, the crowddispersed into a side room. Meaning we were standing alone essentially.

“I’m heading in. It’s going to be fun.” she smiled and headed into the abyss. I touched my face as I followed behind. The door gave way to an empty blackness for three seconds. Then a blinding white. To my right was a concave mirror 10 feet high and the length of the room. To my left was a similarly shaped set of steps. A good three feet wide at each level. It resembled a cheap theater, with just as high ceilings. The chairs were futuristic white exercise bikes, and our star was hidden in a cloak of white light. She seemed to know where she was going because she led me to the only two empty bikes in the room.

“How we feeling tonight!?” The lights immediately changed to a deep blood red orange. Her voice seemed to be coming from within my ears. I had just managed to get on the bike, while everyone was already fiddling with the resistance.

“Okay everyone straps in and let’s go!” The lights started to strobe the rainbow and basic rock started playing at full volume.

“Ride with that rhythm y’all!” I fumbled to start peddling along with everyone. Was I the only one who didn’t get ready in mere milliseconds? I must’ve been there because to my left she was smiling and looking at everyone. She seemed to be having fun so fuck it I thought. I sped up.

“I want to thank you all for coming out on a Tuesday no less. You know we all struggle to get out of bed and get that routine going guys but you know what you did it you’re here for 45 and we only just started!” I want you to know that’s how she said that. No commas, just one long unbroken breath.

“Wait 45?” I mumbled under my breath, which was struggling to exist in the first place.

45

“Let’s go up our first hill now come on!” 

I looked dead ahead to my own reflection. I don’t own a mirror in my personal life so seeing it is always an interesting affair. I was revolting. A round red face frowning at nothing. But then it hit me. My side started to burn. Next my lungs, finally my mouth tasted like blood. While concerning for you I’m sure, for me this is just the price for health. However, if I didn’t slow down a bit to adjust my seat I wouldn’t be going for very long. 

30

“And as we start to feel that burn, I’d like to take a moment to slow down a bit and talk about my dad” 

It was very sweet, her monologue about her father. It was set to the tune of a remix of Dream On. Not what I would’ve chosen mind you. Though let’s be fair at the moment my vision started to go a bit purple to spite the green room. Also, Steven Tyler’s voice started to visualize in my mind as a cel-shaded man singing in a rainy oblivion.

“Hi Steven Tyler.” I thought. As I did, little Steven Tyler in my mind twirled, and the rain dissipated into a deep fog. Water Song started playing, Lil’Tyler sang along as he painted on a canvas he had. Opening my eyes, I was met with everyone else waving their hands and singing a completely different song.

20

“I want everyone now to think about someone in your life who motivates you. No, I want you to think about your fathers. We’re getting so close to Father's Day that I just want to-”

Frankly I stopped listening. Because reality was steadily sliding out of my view and a dark blank nothingness was replacing it. I looked at my reflection to make sure my eyelids hadn't simply given up but no, they were wide open.

In the black I peddled in now silence for what felt for an hour. Then suddenly an explosion of pinks and blues infested outward like a neural pattern. I glided over branch-by-branch dodging knobbles of immense heat. The peddles slowly got heavier and heavier. Until one of them slipped from under my foot. I stopped and looked at the offending side

My shoe was replaced with birds' eye view of an empty lot. Which I was also now standing in. I can’t explain it better than that. But there I was. Amongst broken foundations and half constructed walls for an acre. I picked up a smooth looking pebble then felt a hand on my foot.

15

“Do you need help with that?" 

The concierge was kneeling at my side holding my foot like a pigeon with a broken wing. I nodded and she helped guide the metal tooth on my shoe into the peddle. Which she also apparently had done for my right foot. When she was done, I could peddle as fast as everyone else in the room. Before I could celebrate, I heard it.

The music cut. And a semi-robotic voice started. Find me it sang. Not nursery rhyme sing, more chant singing. I looked around but no one was speaking. My companion was smiling and laughing with the group on the other side of the room. The instructor was demonstrating a breathing technique. But no one spoke.

I finally checked the mirror to make sure it wasn’t me making an ass of myself and there they were.

12:30

Before anything I noticed the nose first, red as if they’d been standing in the cold. Then eyes like a wild animal in a mania. They had an eruption of blonde hair that bounced as they sang. Smiling and yelling it was an alluring sight, as if this silent serenade was just for me. The figure became clearer in the mirror as my reflection faded. I couldn’t hear but they sounded so excited to offer me their hand and wave me into the mirror with them. I wanted to take it.

Behind them was a gilded path through a tunnel of white lit trees. People laughing, crying, running through the mirror embracing as they went. I could feel an immense warmth when I saw them offer it to me. I felt part of something whole. I felt wanted, needed, and welcomed. There's so much to learn and so much to do and all it would take is to grab that hand.

11:15

“Doing, okay?”

I felt the warmth of her hand and looked to my left. She was yelling over the third AC/DC song and her second water break. I said yes, she smiled and continued riding. I looked into the mirror only to be disappointed by myself once more.

9:40

“Just under 10 minutes now, I want us to lean in and ride this one through.”

Hey Jude, was replaced with Day in the Life and the cusp of ass cheeks were already bruised and begging to stop. But I had to keep going. I had no idea how well I had been doing throughout this entire session. But I owed it to my companion and my own money to give the most I could these last few minutes. I had found my motivation I thought.

“Don’t you want to push yourself?” Everyone agreed but me it seemed. Because they all chanted yes, and I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Come on you got this; it isn’t that bad push through it!” I know this was said as encouragement, but it just served to make my already herculean task of keeping up that much more humiliating. Just then the lights went red.

“Feel all that good energy out there ya'll.” The room was now being lit by some ground lights I had not seen. But in my current state it made the floor look like a river of blood.

“We got-” Then it got hot out of fucking nowhere. My shirt was a good three pounds heavier than it was when I arrived. It was then I noticed the souls of my feet had been sewn into the plastic pedals all along.

“You’re not even trying? Do you take anything seriously?” That was all I heard as the walls melted into the steel belly of a furnace. My lungs had started to dry.

“Welcome to hell. You deserve to be tortured and driven mad for your sins!” I was peddling away as my bike slowly sank into the boiling stew of blood. Above me flew a winged beast which took the phase of everyone I had ever loved. Its neck was long and hairy, leading to a kiwi sized body and bloodied wings. It spit a tooth at me.

00:00

“I wish I had remembered a cool down song I’m sorry y’all. We’ll just slow it down with some Men at Work here”

I slowly got off my bike and funneled out to the locker room with everyone else. Having lost 20% of my body weight in sweat alone.

I stood alone struggling to remove my shoes from the small locker when I saw my companion talking with the group from before. Even the concierge joined in the merriment. Mr. Elba was hosting some sort of post work out stretch at his place and half of the class was going. I would have known more details but that was about when I stumbled and knocked over the lemonade jug.

Sticky, sweaty, and severely dehydrated we left and headed to drop me off. I didn’t say much on the way. Half from the exhaustion half from the lack of conversational awareness. I was glad I went though, it’s important to be healthy.

We parted ways, she went to join up with the rest of them, I to my solitude. I walked into my room, I sat and rested my poor feet. Thinking over the events I came to a sobering conclusion. No matter what transpires, at the end of the day, I will always come home alone.