Lewis Laurence (writer), Michael Davies (writer), Milly Muller Reeves (writer), Nitul Deshpande (writer), Ilsa Harun (graphics), Jessica Keem (graphics)
<p>He felt them inside his hands and legs, inside his chest, even inside his face. He saw them too, sometimes. Nobody else did. Only him. The miniscule worm-like parasites which had taken his body as their new home. He would never have noticed them had it not been for the unbearable itching. They slipped out of his skin to peak into the atmosphere, he felt them crawling on his skin. It would start itching. Nobody would believe him, even when he grabbed one of them and pulled it out (and caused a
Image by Ilsa Harun
ALL THE CLI-FI AND END OF THE WORLD YOU CAN FIT IN 100 WORDS AND UNDER
my lungs are mountains
my lungs are mountains
once they were alive
filled with lush vegetation
now, long gone
my lungs are mountains
fire has ripped through
the trees are carcasses
life deceased
my lungs are mountains
heavy smoke lingers
making it impossible
to breathe
BY MILLY MULLER REEVES
PRURITIC PARASITES
He felt them inside his hands and legs, inside his chest, even inside his face. He saw them too, sometimes. Nobody else did. Only him. The miniscule worm-like parasites which had taken his body as their new home. He would never have noticed them had it not been for the unbearable itching. They slipped out of his skin to peak into the atmosphere, he felt them crawling on his skin. It would start itching. Nobody would believe him, even when he grabbed one of them and pulled it out (and caused a wound which had still not healed). Every test he underwent, told him he was normal, with nothing wrong with him. It would still itch.
BY NITUL DESHPANDE
DAY 0: Environmentalists prepare for spending final days in smug fear.
DAY 1: Bank account values: all zero. No regrets though. Bizarrely, bitcoin holds out until day eight.
DAY 2: Alien overlords flee shit-town planet.
DAY 12: Death of 85 per cent of population makes Melbourne housing affordable again.
DAY 25: Last spraycan used up, forcing art to go on hiatus.
DAY 51: Hardcore apocalypse preparadoes disappointed as humanity works together to rebuild and adapt instead of immediately descending into Mad Max-ian helltopian torturescape ruled by violence and cruelty.
DAY 857: Young, hip aliens begin moving to rapidly gentrifying earth.
BY LEWIS LAURENCE
HERE NOW
Smothered as rags of turf
after the creek burst its banks
the clouds were over the warm sky. Their grey breasts
the feathery shadows of idle surfers beyond the break
feeling as I am: that my feet are stakes in the earth
my breath the edge of a chill wind.
BY MICHAEL DAVIES
BY JESSICA KEEM
SEND US YOUR TINY WORDS: EDITION SIX’S PROMPT IS GALAXIES AND OUTER SPACE.
Send your 100-word-and-under stories of the far reaches of the universe to editors@farragomagazine.com