The Rusty Nail, a literary magazineincluding, "The Green Door" by C. N. Nevets
A story of psychological suspense that begins with boredom and ends with horror.
Currently available in the 18 June 2012 Rusty Nail Magazine on-line edition.
including, "Terminal Instar" by C. N. Nevets
A story of isolation, transformation, and serial killer love.
Available as a Print Edition. This anthology is no longer available for Kindle.
Except from the story:
You know the invisible hand of capitalism? Yeah, that's me. I mean, it must be. These hands move a lot of money in the course of the day and I don't think one person notices me. My own mother bought a Redbook and a bottle of Snapple from me the other day and didn’t say Hi.
I try to cut ’em some slack, you know? I’m just the guy at the newsstand. We still call it that, even though no one comes for the news. Magazines maybe, a lot of cigarettes. Gum and bottled water non-stop. Odds and ends. Maybe a paper. But the news? Forget about it.
’N what am I, an actor? No. I’m a nobody. I’m a guy. Just a guy. Of course they don’t notice me. Sometimes when I’m shaving and I’m still half asleep, I don’t even notice myself.
© 2011 "Terminal Instar" is copyrighted by the author and Notes from Underground is coprighted by the Literary Lab. You may not copy or reproduce this excerpt in any form without express permission from the publisher or author.
including, "The Best Medicine" and "Death, Be Not Me" by C. N. Nevets
One, a story about the universal drive to be sure you're alive; the other, a story about the universal struggle to be sure you're not dead.
Available in Print Edition. This anthology is no longer available for e-readers.
Excerpt from, "The Best Medicine":
For two weeks now, I’ve been trying to figure out if people are laughing with me or at me. It has been my obsession since I first noticed it. The snickers. The cackles. The guffaws. The belly-aching, side-slapping, tear-inducing laughter. I finally found out. Now, I just have to figure out if I’m brave enough to ram this shotgun down my own throat.
***
Excerpt from, "Death, Be Not Me":
It’s universal, and it’s inevitable. When you’re gloves-deep in the case-numbered, putrid brown slime that used to be a loving wife and mother of two, your face itches. Your eyes. Your nose. Your cheek. The corner of your mouth.
This is a reality check. Self-affirmation. Yes, my skin’s still in place. My nerves are still functioning. That brown goo is not me; it’s someone else. When you take a deep breath, reassure your
lungs that they are alive, the itch goes away.
There are other checks, too. When you pluck floating chunks of brain matter out of the boiling water, you shake your head a little. It’s not sympathy. It’s not sadness. It’s making sure your own brain is still intact and attached to your skull like a brain should be. No rattling. Good to go.
© 2010 "The Best Medicine" and "Death, Be Not Me" are copyrighted by the author and Genre Wars is coprighted by the Literary Lab. You may not copy or reproduce this excerpt in any form without express permission from the publisher or author.
Stories for Sendai, edited by JC Martin and Michelle Davidson Argyleincluding, "Kansai Oniisan," by C. N. Nevets
A story of psychological suspense and the tension between tradition and temptation, family and success, acceptance on the one hand and acceptance on the other.
This anthology is now only available from select Amazon resellers and other sources of fine used books.
Excerpt from the story:
Tanaka Jun popped a takoyaki into his mouth, took the toothpick which had speared it, and flicked it over his shoulder. As he slowly savored the fried octopus, he set the container of remaining treats on the counter and, to the chef’s confusion, walked slowly away. The slim young man adjusted his dark sunglasses, pulled down his hat and, even though it was a hot Osaka summer day, he wrapped a knit scarf around his mouth.
In his pocket, the last mail his cellphone had received still shone with a single character: the stark cross-shaped mark that meant 10.
© 2011 "Kansai Oniisan" is copyrighted by the author and Stories for Sendai is coprighted by the editors. You may not copy or reproduce this excerpt in any form without express permission from the publisher or author.
