Samples from a few selected short fictions. More to come...

EMBARKING
- fragment one: Dusk -

“I should have stayed behind.” She says barely audible, looking out the huge tinted glass in the Pit. I look at the 2nd commander, Miss Nitchovic, sitting next to me, searching her features. She glances at me and attempts a smile, but quickly looks out into the vastness of space again to cover the lack of sincerity in it. The Choronzon is silent as it drifts into position.

WITHOUT NIGHTS, HOW CAN THERE BE NIGHTMARES?
- fragment two: Evelyn -

The world is spinning violently above me. The grey, white, green and brown land flows together with the vastness of the blue mass of water. I reach up desperately, to calm Gaia, but my earth is ferocious, and I feel it blaming me and punishing me. I turn my body to place my feet on the spinning orb, once home to me, but I am too slow. I curse, as my feet slip again and again. I am not welcome, and voices rise around me, calling my name like it was something bad. Something they despise.
EVELYN!

THE DREAMING HUMAN SUN
- fragment three: Dusk -

They seem so blissful in their sleep. Their pupils large under barely closed eyelids. Their skin pale, yet healthy looking. A sun of bodies, heads inward, carefully laid out on the huge round control table, on top of charts, maps and papers. Their limbs rays. Each with a pen in their left hand. A serene circle of Pytheacon’s crew.

DRIFTING OUT OF VIEW
- fragment four: Evelyn -

I wake suddenly, next to my bunk. My head is pounding and my body is cold, apparently from lying on the metal floor for a while. I groan, and start trying to figure out why I’m not in bed. Another bad dream, surely, but I’m all dressed. I’ve never sleep walked before. Like a broken android I stagger to my feet and hunch over the sink to wash my face in the hopes that it’ll clear my mind. I flick on the light and notice in the mirror that my pupils aren’t minimizing themselves. Pale, shark-eyed, without make-up. I look like a mess. There’s commotion somewhere outside and I hit the door release. The door glides open with its distinct hydraulic sound followed by someone cursing down the corridor. Quick metal clanks; Shell runs by, calling behind her:
“Ev, you better see this shit!”

INTO UNKNOWN SPACE
- fragment five: Dusk –

I am dead. A sun is burning behind me through the tinted massive glass. I stand up straight, bewildered, numb.

HERE WE GO, BUDDY
- fragment six: Dusk –

With immense speed I rush through sights I’d never imagined in my deepest dreams. This spacescape of violent colours, sparkling fireworks, lush shapes and magnificent formations. A mist of mists. The Roma Nebula. I sit in my seat, which I ripped off its station socket a long time ago and placed right in front of the huge tinted glass, and look out into the different hues and shapes. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting there. One hour, or eight hours. It doesn’t matter anyway out here. Spread out on the floor around me are plenty of empty wrappings, cans, half eaten nutrition bars, bowls with vitamin cereals, snacks and water bottles. Since I’m alone, there’s more than enough food for this last of journeys. I guess I’m content here I sit, drifting towards the black wall. I never quite figured out what kept me going, and lately I haven’t bothered trying.

Choronzon - Into The Vast is a story about human bonds and them breaking in the far regions of space, far into the vast nothingness. But what do you find in the emptiness? Split in six fragments. Approximately 7500 words.

2008©Magnus Aspli

Usually, after little Leopold had waited a few minutes on the fallen log, his skinny and sliding figure would come out from the cover of the trees and into the wavy field. With short, yet brave footsteps he emerged from the thick growth of the Midland Forest, a big smile on his big face. His head would barely reach over the tall axis in the green ocean as he made his way to their island, the log and the old oak. Leopold would look up from his two favorite toys; Donatello and Leonardo, as his new friend approached. He’d place the Turtles down on the moss-covered log and balance on the dead tree to get a better view. The afternoon sun would shine warmly from a cloudless sky. The leaves on the old oak next to its fallen sister would rattle in the soft summer breeze. Leopold’s unbuttoned blue shirt would play in the wind like a captured kite. He’d shade his eye from the bright sunlight and spot Luc on his way through the high stalks. Every time, Leopold had always felt Luc coming before seeing him. That’s how it’s like with best friends, Luc had said.

A tale of alien friendship and uncommited parents. Ca. 2000 words. Appears on It Came From The Internet.

2008©Magnus Aspli

‘Come on,’ my uncle called out from the front door, ‘we’re going to find that whore!’

...
Rhevol touches her face. It has been a long time since she’d felt his hands. They are warm, like hers. He kisses her softly, and asks if she’d brought only what was most necessary. She nods, and pushes against him for another kiss. They have to continue. The morning is already turning into evening. Rhevol leads her up to the road and they start walking. He puts out a thumb, hoping to hitch a ride. Her red skirt plays with the soft breeze.

- Based on the themes in Margo Lanagan’s Singing My Sister Down, but inspired by Doa Khalil; a 17 year old girl in North Iraq, who was stoned to death in April 2007, because she had fallen in love with the wrong boy. 1000 words.

2007©Magnus Aspli

***EXPLICIT LANGUAGE/ADULT CONTENT***

THE STAR

“Please, take my picture next time?” she begs, her eyes on the thick curtains blocking the sun.

I’m not gonna answer that question, since I’d never shoot her. I have my chin on her lower tummy, smoking a cigarette. No, I hadn’t licked the bitch.

THE WIFE

“God damn you! You were supposed to take Lauren this morning! Where the hell have you been?”
Jodie’s sweet curly hair sweeps over her back as she turns. Her skin pale against the dark red bikini and summer skirt. Her face redder, though, because of me.

THE PICTURE

A redness ignites the dark room as I turn on the bulb. Circle of Eyes by Funeral Mist has been on repeat for half an hour making the atmosphere in the small room creepy.

BACK AT THE STAR

I splash water on my face, careful not to spill on the camera next to the sink. I can hear One More Night by Phil Collins coming from the bedroom. She’s turned on that damn music channel again. Like this is a honeymoon. This is pretty fucking far from anything like that.

Lies and deceit in a game of sex, marriage and money. 2000 words.

2007©Magnus Aspli