admin7EyZHDb8HNC8btr3, Author at X-R-A-Y

MY TRAVELLING PERIOD by Dayna Weissman

February 4, 2026 · Fiction

They’ve brought in a man with a lie detection kit for the reunion of the seventh season of my second favorite reality television show. They’re getting all of the ladies wired up to his machine and asking them if they think they are the hottest lady in the office. The “office” is the real estate firm where they all work as real estate agents. All of the ladies say, no, they do not believe they are the hottest lady in the office. The machine goes off every time. It’s good to believe that you are the hottest lady. It’s gotten…

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IT’S KINDA PUNK ROCK TO WRITE ABOUT JOY: AN INTERVIEW WITH AARON BURCH by Kirsti MacKenzie

February 3, 2026 · Interviews & Reviews

Part of the fun of being a writer, and learning from other writers, is seeing what others leave of themselves on the page. To follow their work and discover their signature—the intangible that makes someone’s writing so intensely theirs that there is no mistaking it for being anyone else. There’s no mistaking Aaron Burch on the page. Tacoma (out with Autofocus Books) has all the hallmarks of a Burch book—nostalgia, magic, fun, optimism, friendship, and more heart than almost any other writer doing it today. As writers, we’re often taught that characters should grow through hardship, conflict, and struggle. Tacoma…

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SETTLEMENT by Benjamin Niespodziany

February 2, 2026 · Fiction

after Chris Erickson Tristan Funicular fell asleep not long after dawn. His teeth were on wrong and his bong was full of something less like water and more like moss. He was lost. His stress level was Jurassic. His panics were unlearned. This was a mere hours before Tristan’s door was kicked down by the scholar Parlor Hallelujah who demanded her dues. You see, Parlor Hallelujah was a crooked academic, a well-known non-peasant, an aggressive lecturer, a stirrer of sins. The hushed business she conducted was equal parts consultation and intimidation. She lived off the wisdom she gave to others. Hundreds…

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HOW TO SURVIVE A CROWD CRUSH by John Waddy Bullion

January 23, 2026 · Fiction

First and foremost, don’t panic, baby girl. And please understand that it’s not your fault—you aren’t in this situation because you’re young and dumb, or because your already-questionable decision-making has been dulled by the crumbled-up mushrooms you took in the Porta-Potty out in the parking lot before the show, or because you ditched your girlfriends and joined the stampede to the stage with thousands of others when those first chiming notes rang out; no, sweetheart, the blame lies squarely at the feet of the concert promoters who cared more about selling tickets than about crowd density, and in the hands…

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Samuel M. Moss Interviewed by Perry Ruhland

January 22, 2026 · Interviews & Reviews

In Samuel M. Moss’ debut novel The Veldt Institute (Double Negative Press, 2025), anonymous patients seek the cure for their own ineffable malady. Their treatment is conducted on the grounds of the titular institute, some strange cross between an abbey and a sanatorium, where their philosopher-doctors prescribe a wide range of strange and specific activities. Reading this great book, and particularly the accounts of these treatments, prompted me to take long walks, sit by the lake, and stare at my ceiling. I asked Samuel M. Moss about some of the practices behind the cures. Perry Ruhland: One of the…

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GOTH TACOS by Paul Stinson

January 21, 2026 · Micros

Tom wore black jeans, black Bauhaus t-shirt, no makeup. Three al pastor on corn, no onions. Clayre wore the long black lace skirt, black and yellow zebra top, black lipstick. Two barbacoa on flour. Tom was a lab assistant, Clayre a speech therapist. Funny, Tom had a daughter named Claire, with an i, a fourth grade sweetheart whom he saw on weekends. Funny, Clayre had a brother named Tom, a Grade-A turd who did real estate in Phoenix. Was Tom the coolest, best looking guy at Goth Tacos that Wednesday? Nope. But was he kind enough and safe-seeming enough to…

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YOU MAY APPLAUD NOW: JOSEPH COWARD ON ‘JESUS CHRIST KINSKI’ BY BENJAMIN MYERS

January 20, 2026 · Interviews & Reviews

Klaus Nakszynski was born in Germany in 1926, and within a few short decades became everything from Nazi conscript, to piss-drinking mental patient, to one of the most prolific and notorious stage-screen presences of the twentieth century. Despite everything he was as an actor, Kinski (excising sections of his name after returning to Germany from a Colchester POW camp) became better known for his psychopathic behaviours both at work and recreationally. He screamed at Werner Herzog for an hour and a half over a cold cup of coffee; he once stalked one of his psychiatric nurses for three days before…

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ROAD HEAD by Lila-Rose Beckford

January 19, 2026 · Fiction

Leroy wakes up in a desert turnout, contorted in his truck bed like he tried to hold himself together in his sleep. His head throbs. His mouth tastes like blood. The sun is already climbing. The sky is too clean, too wide. No eyes for miles. The desert has stripped him thin, but that’s the point. It’s burning off the wrong parts, leaving only what his wife will recognize when he goes home. Athena wakes in a guest bedroom with white plaster walls, glass doors, and a rug that was woven by someone else’s hand. The lovers have the…

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DEATH DRIVE by Quinn Broussard

January 16, 2026 · Fiction

One night, I text my boyfriend, Next time we have sex, I want you to hit me and tell me I’m worthless. He doesn’t respond to it. In the morning, I drink black coffee and don’t eat. He texts me between my classes, Come over later, and so in the evening, I sit on his couch and watch him watch sports. It’s a different one for each season and I can never keep track when one starts and another begins – it doesn’t follow logic, that the Super Bowl is in February and they’re still in these same thin jerseys…

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THE HOUSE AT THE EDGE OF THE FOREST BURNS by Timo Teräsahjo

January 15, 2026 · Fiction

The boy stood barefoot in the snow, staring at the house, a blaze of light in the darkness. It seemed like all there was in the world. The living room window gaped open; green curtains fluttered in the wind, oddly soft and warm. The shouting had stopped. Only the murmur of the spruces remained. He closed his eyes and imagined waves crashing on smooth rocks, the air salted with mist. He was very young, not even ten. His mother had pushed him through the window, and he did not know where to go. The front door banged open. His father…

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