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Category Archives: Bang*Bang no. 53
25
Feb
A Genealogy of Magic
by Kuruma Ebi (車エビ) illustrated by Beili (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/299016.html) There was no magic where Naoki came from. Well. That wasn’t entirely accurate. Hanamigawa Ward in Chiba, where Naoki had grown up, was in fact covered in spells. The telephone wires that cut through the neighbourhoods were held up by charms that stood the utility posts […]
25
Feb
The Bus Driver; or, An Accidental Meeting
by Zetto Rio (ゼット 理央) (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/299438.html) Sometimes, usually after someone’s done something to provoke it, Jordan feels like he should have done more with his life. College had not been for him; he liked the lifestyle just fine, but even when he abstained from drinking and running every single GSA event on his own, […]
25
Feb
The Journey
Welcome to The Silkworm, where we feature stories spun live and unedited. Just as a reminder, this podcast is part of our Crimson series, which contains explicit material that may not be suitable for some listeners.
Tonight’s story comes to you from Daniel Costain, who spoke at our open mic night at the Wherever You Go Café in Toronto. The theme of the night was On the Way.
25
Feb
A treatise on the mating habits of Bibliothecarus bibliothecarii
by Himawari (ヒマワリ) illustrated by A.Sammich (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/300025.html) It was the beard. It usually is. I saw him at the pool, at the end of a very long conference day, the kind of day so long you don’t end up wanting anything but to get some lousy vending machine snacks and to watch something junky […]
25
Feb
Railfans
Isaiah startled back to alertness when the shop bell jingled. It almost never jingled; the only reason the Rook City Miniature Railyard stayed open the few days it did was because he had nothing better to do. Not many people in downtown Rook had an interest in model trains, but the building had been paid for before the bigger, fancier leases moved in, so whenever the mood struck him Isaiah would head down and open the shop for a few hours to process customer orders or dust the shelves or whatever else he felt like. He straightened his shirt and put on his best niche-retail smile.
25
Feb
Woodward Avenue
“Don’t mind the mess,” I said as I opened the garage door. “I don’t come out here very often.”
Nick shook his head with a sad frown. “I don’t see why not, if you’re telling me the truth.”
I grimaced as I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. Summer had decided to come early — very early — and the June day was burning hot. “It’s complicated. There’s a lot of memories tied up in this.”
“Yeah, but it’s a Chevelle, dude. A goddamn 1970 Chevelle SS. You’re a fucking idiot to let it rot for five years.”
25
Feb
Five Hours to Chicago
It was a cold Monday morning somewhere in the middle of Michigan. We’d crossed over the Canadian border the night before on our way from Vermont to Chicago. It was something like ten hours from home and five hours to our destination, but my eyes hadn’t wanted to stay open any longer and Elliot couldn’t drive. I’d found a rest stop that didn’t look terrifying and parked my twenty-year-old Astro Van (named Francis) away from the building so we could nap. He and I had huddled up together after pushing the bench seat flat, nesting under an old sleeping bag.
I think we were somewhere outside Flint, but the only thing I knew about Flint was that it was once on the FBI’s most dangerous cities list. I assumed Elliot didn’t know that, or maybe didn’t know where we were, or I doubted he would be sleeping. I was too tired to be anxious. I guess that didn’t really matter. No one had broken into the car and murdered us for the six hours we’d been parked.
25
Feb
Flashes
My life changed the night David Copperfield made the Statue of Liberty disappear on TV. I was in my pajamas, sick with strep throat, and I hadn’t left the house in over a week. My throat felt like a ball of steel wool had been shoved into it and left to rust. It hurt to eat. My eyes were dry and scratchy.
But there was Copperfield, larger than life, and that man knew how to do dramatic. So helicopters were circling over the water, bright lights made Liberty glow like daytime, and intense music blared, like in a scary movie. I know I had a fever, and that I tend to hallucinate when I’m sick, so my memory of it isn’t quite right. But here is what I think I saw: There was a pause, like a skipped heartbeat, and then the statue was gone. I thought I’d seen a miracle.
25
Feb
Boys Keep Fucking Up My Car
“Hey, I know a thing or two about cars.”
Gabriel kept his expression pleasant, neutral. “Do you,” he said, keeping his voice as noncommittal as he could while at the same time yelling over a shitty club backbeat. When he’d started sneaking into clubs at seventeen, using his older cousin’s ID, no one had told him the real crime would be that he’d become sick to death of it all by the time he could do it legally.
