Austin Downtown Arts: Fiction

Fiction titles from A-E | F-N | O-Z

Alive by Marlo Bennett
Scientifically speaking, blood isn't any thicker than water. They're about the same. But you try telling that to my grandmother, who once had four generations of us living under her tiny roof -- and loved it.

An Arctic Sea by Sean Denmark
This sort of thing does not happen. Men don't lose their faces.

Camp Industry:
Thus Spake Zarathustra by Frank Giovinavvi
The curved glass wall refracted the sun's brilliance as it rose across the Texas plains. The Architect increased the graduated tint on the 360 degree barrier from a control underneath his desktop. He had personally designed the glass tower, to demonstrate his hands-on approach to the Camp Industry project.

The Death of All Men by Caroline Hicok
Even before Karen went to brew a pot of Colombian rebirth, she flipped on the TV news. Only once before had watching the news been the nucleus of her life, with all the other pieces orbiting around it. That was when her son Adam had gone to fight in the Gulf War. She said goodbye for what she was able to resolve might be the last time when he shipped out.

Drone Hummer by Alejandro Aguirre
His attempt to woo women by buying drinks makes him feel and look like a lecher. It finally dawns on him that this is the kind of bar his daughter might frequent with her girl friends.

Duke's Place by Manuel Gonzales
It was Tuesday. Dawson was dead and had been for two days. Chango was gone, alone and lost and tired. We were at the funeral listening to the voice of God. It had been raining since Saturday.

Earthly Paradise by Muriel Perkins
First there is Mamma. Her hair rises when hurricanes come, sliding on itself like leaves in hot air, full of light and lightning.

Emily's Game by Christopher Hess
The day Emily and I played a confused game of doctor in the back room of her parents' double-wide had all but completely slipped from my memory by the time I found out that she had swallowed a bottle's worth of sleeping pills.

Exterminatol by Christopher Hess
"Just a fuckin' minute!" he screamed breathlessly into the silence which, if asked, would deny its interference, even its very existence. The only answer returned was a pitiful enfeebled echo absorbed, along with various seeds and ashes, into the shag.