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American Dream Serialization (Early Chapters)
Introduction to Jim Chaffee's Studies in Mathematical Pornography by Maurice Stoker
Introduction to Jim Chaffee's Studies in Mathematical Pornography by Tom Bradley
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: American Dream Title Page by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 1 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 2 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 3 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 4 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 5 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 6 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 7 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 8 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 9 by Jim Chaffee
01-01-2015
Modern Tragedy, or Parodies of Ourselves by Robert Castle
01-11-2014
Totally Enchanté, Dahling by Thor Garcia
01-04-2014
Hastini by Rudy Ravindra
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 5 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
01-01-2014
Unexpected Pastures by Kim Farleigh
10-01-2013
Nonviolence by Jim Courter
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 4 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
07-01-2013
The Poet Laureate of Greenville by Al Po
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part VI by Thor Garcia
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 3 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
04-01-2013
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part V by Thor Garcia
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part IV by Thor Garcia
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 2 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
01-01-2013
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part I by Thor Garcia
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part II by Thor Garcia
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part III by Thor Garcia
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 1 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
10-01-2012
DADDY KNOWS WORST: Clown Cowers as Father Flounders! by Thor Garcia
RESURRECTON: Excerpt from Breakfast at Midnight by Louis Armand
Review of The Volcker Virus (Donald Strauss) by Kane X Faucher: Excerpt from the forthcoming Infinite Grey by Kane X Faucher
01-07-2012
Little Red Light by Suvi Mahonen and Luke Waldrip
TEXECUTION: Klown Konfab as Killer Kroaked! by Thor Garcia
Miranda's Poop by Jimmy Grist
Paul Fabulan by Kane X Faucher: Excerpt from the forthcoming Infinite Grey by Kane X Faucher
01-04-2012
Operation Scumbag by Thor Garcia
Take-Out Dick by Holly Day
Patience by Ward Webb
The Moon Hides Behind a Cloud by Barrie Darke
The Golden Limo of Slipback City by Ken Valenti
01-01-2012
Chapter from The Infinite Atrocity by Kane X. Faucher
Support the Troops By Giving Them Posthumous Boners by Tom Bradley
01-10-2011
When Good Pistols Do Bad Things by Kurt Mueller
Corporate Strategies by Bruce Douglas Reeves
The Dead Sea by Kim Farleigh
The Perfect Knot by Ernest Alanki
Girlish by Bob Bartholomew
01-07-2011
The Little Ganges by Joshua Willey
The Invisible World: René Magritte by Nick Bertelson
Honk for Jesus by Mitchell Waldman
01-04-2011
Red's Dead by Eli Richardson
The Memphis Showdown by Gabriel Ricard
Someday Man by John Grochalski
01-01-2011
I Was a Teenage Rent-a-Frankenstein by Tom Bradley
Only Love Can Break Your Heart by Fred Bubbers
10-01-2010
Believe in These Men by Adam Greenfield
The Magnus Effect by Robert Edward Sullivan
Performance Piece by Jim Chaffee
07-01-2010
Injustice for All by D. E. Fredd
The Polysyllogistic Curse by Gary J. Shipley
How It's Done by Anjoli Roy
Ghost Dance by Connor Caddigan
Two in a Van by Pavlo Kravchenko
04-01-2010
Uncreated Creatures by Connor Caddigan
Invisible by Anjoli Roy
One of Us by Sonia Ramos Rossi
Storyteller by Alan McCormick
01-01-2010
Idolatry by Robert Smith
P H I L E M A T O P H I L I A by Traci Chee
They Do! by Al Po
Full TEX Archive
Side Photo for The Big Stupid Review

Bloodlust - Part 1

By Kim Bannerman

"'Of course,” I said to myself, "I do not believe in supernatural beings. Still - who understand the mysteries behind the forest? What would one do if one did meet a supernatural being?" Half of me wished that I could meet her, and half of me hoped I would not.’

- Emily Carr, after encountering a Tsonokwa totem pole.

If you asked me why it happened, I would tell you that fear makes people do strange things. To be afraid is to be irrational. That sunny afternoon, we were terrified beyond reason, and I would tell you, if you asked, that fear drove us. There was no other alternative, no other impulse that would excuse our behaviour, no other rational logic to explain. We were afraid, and our choice was dictated by fear.

And you might believe me.

But that wouldn't be the truth.

Crey and I walked along the shore of Dees River, up into the woods where the branches hung with garlands of silvery witchhair moss. He marched ahead with his camera bag slung over his shoulder and I followed, picking my way carefully along the riverbank, the rest of the equipment strapped to my back in a wellworn satchel and an old army duffelbag. The unmistakable snap of autumn was in the air, but hints of summer remained: the sweet scent of dried grass and baked earth, the warm kiss of sunlight in the leeside of the bank.

"We'll cross here," he said, gesturing to a fallen alder log that spanned the bubbling waters. It didn't look very stable, and he read my hesitation in my dubious expression. "C'mon, Ellie," he replied as he mounted the slippery trunk. "Where's that trademark Carpenter bravery?"

bridge in woods

I let him hold my hand as we crossed.

My father once told me that Crey had played rugby in high school, and in the years since, he'd remained athletic. He hadn't let art college turn him waxy or pale. He was tall and tanned and handsome, muscular from months of backpacking through Thailand, with shaggy black hair as thick as my own. When he jumped to the shore, the log sprang upwards under my lesser weight and almost bucked me off.

After leaping to solid ground, I asked, "How much to do you make with your pictures?"

"Depends on who's buying them," he replied over his shoulder. With a quick glance into the sky, he said, "Hurry up, El. We're going to miss the noon light."

"Who was the best, then?"

"National Geographic," he replied. "It's good to have them on my CV."

"CV?"

"Curriculum vitae," he answered. "A list of who's purchased my pictures."

"But did they PAY well?"

He glanced over his shoulder again with an amused but slightly reproachful expression. "You know, in the adult world, it's rude to ask how much people get paid."

"You’re not an adult, Crey," I replied tartly. "Not to me."

I caught the flash of a grin as he turned and veered from the bank into the tangles of nodding ferns.

When I caught up with him again, I finally mustered the question I'd been wanting to ask. "How come you don't pay me?"

This caught him by surprise. He stopped, and I nearly banged into him. "Pay you?"

"Yeah," I replied, shifting the weight of the bag on my left shoulder. "You can carry it yourself, you don't need me here. Every year since I was ten, I've hauled your gear out into the woods, and I think you should pay me for the work."

Crey laughed away my comment. "Of course I could carry it myself, but I like spending time with you, Ellie."

A little pang of guilt plucked at my heart. "Well," I said awkwardly, stepping back a bit, "I like hanging out with you, too, but--"

When I faltered, he kindly took the heaviest satchel from my shoulder and slung it over his own. Crey bent closer, fixing me with raven-black eyes that were sharp, mischievous and suspicious. "You're sixteen, Ellie," he replied. "What do you need money for? Makeup? Clothes?"

My throat hitched. I was suddenly very embarrassed, but I didn't know why, and I reluctantly admitted, "I'm saving for a camera of my own."

"Really, now," was all he said. Crey looked at me with such warmth that I thought he'd set me on fire.