Tag: Dan Patton

FICTION: Stuffing an Animal by Dan Patton

The bloody entrails tumble from the carcass like strings of misshapen sausages. Hayden guides them into a bucket on the stone floor, trying not to gag. Taking a shallow breath he reaches into the torso and cuts the last of the connective tissue with his scalpel. Gravity yanks the guts down into the overflowing bucket.

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FICTION: Rewind The Film by Dan Patton

It is said that true darkness is simply the absence of light; it possesses no texture, no subtlety, no poetic license. But this dark is more t­han absence. Imagine: The inky blue-black of a starless night; the womb-like static of dreamless sleep. Soon there will be time and with it narrative, but first time needs

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FICTION: Interview with a Button-Eyed Rabbit by Dan Patton

You’re sitting on a grown-up chair in a small room, arms folded defiantly on the table in front of you. Opposite you, Mr Rabbit is asking the questions. It doesn’t take a genius to guess that this is not going to end well. “Max, how old you were when Jakey pushed Beth down the stairs?”

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FICTION: Explosions In The Sky by Dan Patton

I’m having a clear-out, boxing and bagging the detritus which I seem unable to avoid accumulating. It’s not that I’m fastidiously tidy – far from it – but I am on a mission; determined to live with less distractions. As I’m filling a cardboard box with paperbacks, I come across a photo of Cassie, Maggie

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