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Fortnightly Fiction
Fortnightly Fiction | Rebecca’s Shadow
***CONTENT WARNING: Suicide***
Today is the day I commit suicide. It has to be today. It's Rebecca's anniversary. I have to top hers. "Alone...sleeping pills...overdose". She died as she'd lived, a cliché. Her romance novels were…
Fortnightly Fiction | V
Harley got out of bed and shone the torch into the car park. V sat up straight, switched on her lamp, then waited, like a hospital patient.
‘Can you see anything?’
Harley moved the light over to the trees, seeing the man moving like…
Fortnightly Fiction | An Unsent Letter
Dear Richard,
Remember that pact we made? Signed and sealed with spit-slicked hands. Time’s up. I’ve decided to keep it.
It’s weird of me to write a letter, I know. Why not just text, or even an email? I’m writing you a letter the…
Fortnightly Fiction | Before Her
Before her there were others. After, there will be more. Right now there are plenty. Plenty. Causing his head pain.
‘She won’t shut up, man.’ Gunner’s voice down the phone is like a knife stabbing his head. He feels the hotness…
Fortnightly Fiction | In the Company of Dreams
Perhaps the knock at the door reveals a stranger, desperate and pleading, a smear of blood on his face and a nose gone crooked after it smashed against the steering wheel of the car that’s currently lodged in a tree at the end of your…
Fortnightly Fiction | Priscilla, the Plate, and the Prozac
The best thing about the Prozac was that it made her not want to drink. The worst thing about the Prozac was that it made her not want to drink. Priscilla would’ve called her situation a catch-22 if she didn’t fucking hate Joseph Heller.…
Fortnightly Fiction | 7 Minutes
7 minutes. You can have your first sexual experience in 7 minutes – 7 minutes in heaven – that’s what they tell you. Does every cigarette take away 7 minutes of your life? Can a headless cockroach really survive for up to 7 minutes after…
Fortnightly Fiction | All Hallows’ Eve
The Vandalised Tapestries, Leitrim’s home-grown alternative country rockers, attracted a smaller crowd to the main stage than Veelox did at the other end of the park. For how many years now it was like this. Due to subtle repeated social…
Fortnightly Fiction | Orphans
I’m sitting against the subway stairs, watching people do that tap tap quick walk they do when they want to show everyone how busy they are. Hurrying to get to Queens or Brooklyn. The sky’s all pink and gold, making long shadows and people…
Fortnightly Fiction | Emancipate the Dissonance by Arnold Schoenberg
The scream in Eric’s neck started Bronx cheering at a higher volume than it had been for a whole week. 'You're scum. You're scum. You're scum.'
Lying on his bed like a steel ruler, he wasn't long home from a sweaty night shift at…