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Last updateTue, 06 Aug 2013 2am

Back You are here: Home Themed Collections May 2011: Mayhem
May 2011: Mayhem
May 2011: Mayhem

May 2011: Mayhem

Welcome to May, and a big month for ThundaDome.com! This month's collection will be the final monthly collection published on the site... but never fear! We're changing our submissions policy to Always Open, Never Themed. Starting in June, we'll be releasing stories on a regularly scheduled basis (hopefully one per week or bi-monthly) along with more great new content. There's a big project in the works for later in the year, and some new weekly content that will be rolling out throughout may as well. Keep an eye on our homepage for new book reviews and book excerpts. And in the meantime, take a look at MAYHEM, our latest themed collection of stories. We're foregoing the usual brief descriptions of the stories this month. It's Mayhem after all, best experienced when stumbled into blindly. Be warned - there's chaos ahead, and darkness. See you on the other side...

Cannibal Cabaret by edward j rathke 
The Draftsman's Descent by Simon West Bulford
Bruiser by Danielle Tobias
The Second or Third Coming by Phil Jourdan
7-8-11-9-9 by H.V. Stone
The Self in Other People by Patrick Verhagen     

Wednesday, 04 May 2011 18:38

Cannibal Cabaret

Written by

Have you heard?

Have you heard!

There's a new one in town, a new body to play, a new song to flay, and, for only today, all is for free, all given away! Oh, yes, the fate phantastique!

We run, now, much work to be done, much singing to be sung, much dancing yet begun. Ah, yes, here we are all gathered round the socialising sacrifice, the morning light revealing the hunger, the damage done and the artist's hand. The maudlin poets fester through, drinking already, whispering, gossips and charlatans ready to immortalise our bountiful feast. Ah, here the butchers then, the cutlery priests and the atavistic acolytes.

Wednesday, 04 May 2011 18:37

The Draftsman's Descent

Written by

His eyes were too small and dark, his forehead slightly misshapen, his mouth open a little too wide. In fact, I would venture to say his features invoked a certain character of cretinism about him, yet clearly, he was nothing of the kind, because his voice was as crisp and articulate as a Cambridge Don, though I must confess, I can remember none of the words he said to me. Most disturbing is the knowledge that, save for this vague memory of our meeting, I have no idea who he was or how I came upon him.

Wednesday, 04 May 2011 18:33

The Second or Third Coming

Written by

It was an argument about Baudelaire that prompted the violence. Some, sitting in the corner pretending to scrawl on their napkins, or pouring themselves enough wine to expedite a small seizure, would later note that neither fighter seemed to know much about the poet. In fact, Edgar O. Lozenge, notorious instigator of fisticuffs, was not to blame this time; his rival, Coco the Gruesome, who had legally changed his name to that only three months prior to this incident for reasons not quite clear even to himself, was the one to throw the first punch.

Wednesday, 04 May 2011 18:32

7-8-11-9-9

Written by

His leather smelled of sweat and motor oil, all of him dusted in the chalk of the city, like the dirt from which he had been crafted. Fairytales and godstories tickling the edge of his awareness.

The motor oil came from the room where he slept, a place once a garage, now his home, where they used to strip the rough, homemade combat vehicles stolen from the enemy, parted them to make their own or armor the houses. The metal ghosts still clung to the corners, under the bed and behind the desk.