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The Scum Gentry Alternative Arts and Media.
Scum Gentry literary magazines and writing websites hub: literary fiction, horror stories, weird fiction and more...

EchoNone Novella Excerpt by Michael Mc Aloran

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ember absence ash emerge recede silence warp-ember absence emergence warp...voice non-stir utterance claim overture pulse magnet dry bone non-stir overture...absence bones flesh breath hollow echo sky crack claustrophobe intact scar risen...caress non-stir vocal silence ever-amber ember ash...


overture tide silence silenced presence claim once claim other intact caress flesh breath...voice non-stir absent a...claustrophobe intact ever-ashen ember silence claim...absence ever-bone clad silence breath a-breathe foreign...echo hollow distance foreign...claustrophe scar silence non-vocal tidal utterance/


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voice wordless dredge design subtle hollow break surface dead follow bled bleed nocturne out-step collapse...spoke less ever-speech cleft stun break point zero tint...collapse dread foreign wordless subtle break...less wordless hollow follow dread...


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Benny Profane - Serial fiction - Notes of a Professional Voyeur III at the Scum Gentry...

The fine institution that I currently toil for, despite its delusions of grandeur, is actually a popular meeting place for many of this city’s more irascible characters. That is the numerous low-lifes, junkies and down-and-outers that add those wonderful textures of vagrancy, danger and seedy-intrigue to any great city.

These bottom-feeders serve as handy physical reminders of the less attractive side of our free-market capitalism.

If we did not have these soiled pockets of non-conformists shuffling down street corners, sitting tangentially to every bank machine and shadily convening in public places then we would feel their loss and become suspicious, wondering whether or not they might have all been shipped away to some remote island or made “disappeared” in the style of a dissenting Argentine.

Tonight, as I conduct my regular perusal of the soporific audience gawking vacantly at the cinema screen in front of them, I can spy near a corner in the back of the auditorium one of the very ne’er-do-wells of whom I speak.

He is slumped inconspicuously in the hull of his seat. Conveniently occluded from the rest of the audience, he naturally considers it a safe environment in which to satisfy that insatiable need—the itch for which there is no definitive scratch.

From my vantage point I can clearly tell that he is a bona fide, fully-initiated, card-holding skagboy...


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Stemless (Fucking) Wine Glasses - Short Story by Gary Grace

She opened the door and said nothing. Before he had a chance to look her in the eyes and say he was sorry, she turned her back to him and slid through the cold unlit hall. He likened the sound of her slippers creasing the carpet to that of crunching snow. The porthole of light she’d gone through was narrowing behind her. Shadows crept over the line of illuminated photo frames, the smiling faces vanishing into darkness as the door clicked closed, the last thing he saw being his keys hanging up, just where he’d left them.

His eyes stung as he carelessly hit the lights and, instantly regretting this, applied an appropriate amount of rotation to the dimmer, leaving him with just enough light to make it through the hall without knocking anything over. Passing the pictures of the holidays abroad, he stopped for a moment staring at the last one. He knew by the Spanish football jerseys that the picture must have been during the World Cup, on their last stop on the way home from travelling; Santiago de Compostela. Her hands were clasped around his waist, and her chin rested on his shoulder, her long blonde hair framing her gorgeous, sun-bronzed face. Looking at the happy people in focus, he wondered to himself, what the fuck had happened to them?

He entered the room and the pungent aroma of the Sun & Sand Yankee candle hit him. He controlled his gag by blowing air harshly out his nostrils. The sound of the cutlery drawer closing brought his attention...


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