|Pieces that have been published in online/print journals around the world.|
The SandwichThe Sandwich by apocathary
The Sandwich David Hepcott Enjoyed While His Mother Burned To Death In A House Fire
A single slice of ham lay with another of cheese, while the mustard raised a slight sting at the back of his throat. Halved diagonally, crust deftly sliced off; just the way he liked it.
|Exercises, scraps, and miscellaneous stuff that I've written.|
| These are reviews of my work written by my very closest friends and readers of my work. I love all of them! |
The degree of quality in apocathary's works is such that if I saw him on the street I would make my way over to him and swiftly run him through with my blade. Let it be understood that this murder would not be motivated by jealousy, but rather an attempt to slay the beast before its blight corrupts the entirety of the written word. At present he is mercifully confined to the digital realm, but it is only a matter of time, my fellows, until he manages by coincidence or manipulation to manifest in our physical world. On that day the sky shall rain bile and the seas will heave as the Earth Mother herself attempts to eject this sacrilege from its surface. Heed my warning! apocathary will devour us all! HE IS THE DESTRO--(transmission cut)
apocathary's works contain sentences which are in turn made up of words. The words, in a manner which reveals their function, are entirely composed of letters which can be said to belong to an alphabet. Occasionally numbers are present, but these are rare and generally considered to be mistakes. apocathary has shown he is able to take these building blocks and place them in such a way as to construct paragraphs, however it is uncertain if this is deliberate or merely accidental in the manner of a monkey brushing up against the return key. In any case, the paragraphs are commonly found to be loosely related in such a way as to suggest an overall narrative, but these relations are often tenuous or nonsensical.
If there is one word that can sum up apocathary's body of work, it would be 'bewildering'. Bewildering in the sense that one must wonder whether he has actually read any of his work before releasing it, like a rank fart, on the wider community. My beret could write with more skill than him; has done so in fact, with George Tsatsiki quoted as saying my beret's poems 'Have a fine weave about them.' In any case, if I were apocathary I would be leaning back and having a good head scratch, literally, to check if he has suffered any brain-damaging head wounds lately.
I just think it's so wonderful to see a writer like apocathary trying so hard to improve his writing. His stories are just so...special. They're like seeing that guy with no legs crossing the finishing line at the paralympics. While he may not ever write like you or I, he's doing his best in his own unique way. A tear wells in my eye everytime I see something new from him. But they aren't tears of sadness, nor happiness really; more a kind of pity that he'll never be able to write like a normal person. Good on you, apocathary! You keep doing whatever it is you might call what you're doing!
apocathary's body of work is like being stranded alone in the darkest bar in the worst part of town, and all of a sudden a massive, tattooed guy wearing a dress comes up to you and asks you to dance. You know you gotta do it, but you also know that at some point you're going to feel dirty. Real dirty. Dirty like rape. Fist rape. Brass-knuckle fist rape. Spiked brass knuckle fist rape. By Oprah. apocathary's writing is like getting spiked brass knuckle fist raped by Oprah.
FFM#15 [Challenge] -- Bad Dog“Officer, look, I’m very sorry about the thing down at the park, he’s usually so very well behaved. It’s just that he gets a little hot under the collar and things get out of hand, you know? And given his nature it’s really hard to reign him in, I mean, he can’t make up his own mind, how am I suppo—Cerb, no, put the nice man down!”
FFM#14 -- FreewayI had very nearly finished the homework I had come to the common room to get done when Jeremy started swearing at his newspaper. He was going through one of his phases, in this case the one where he pretended to care about world news. The local rag was about as far from a reputable source of information one could get, but Jeremy faithfully broadcast its proclamations about rental markets, fuel prices, and myriad other first-world problems that had nothing to do with what was really going on in the world.
When no-one asked him what he was swearing about, he did it again, and added a disgusted grunt. Jacob and I ignored him, as we always did. Ryan sighed and looked over from the whiteboard where he had been working on a particularly tricky differential equation. “What’s up?”
“Sorry? Oh, I was just reading that they did a study of commuters on our freeway and found that 90% of cars were single-passenger.”
“So, what a waste of petrol ef
FFM#13 -- G3ckoThousands of adbots swarmed above Jex’s head. None came too close, and Jex couldn’t blame them. He was a very tempting prize, far too tempting for even a moderately sophisticated adbot’s tastes. He knew how he appeared to them; a meta-whirl of likes, trailed email addresses, freely-given preferences, past-clicked ads, and answered quizzes. He was a very bright beacon in an otherwise very dull part of e-space. He’d been trawling this sector for some time now, picking up more and more vaguely interested adbots as he went, selling his persona to them in myriad tiny ways. Just now he picked up a model of a building, letting the traceruns crawl up his arm and join the rest of his neon-strobed outfit. He could sense the adbots’ interest heighten slightly as he fulfilled some other arcane recognition condition of being a human.
He’d gotten the idea from watching a nature prog the night before. A bird had swooped down on a tiny lizard, a gecko, and plucked i
FFM#12 [Challenge] -- The Golden BranchOnce upon a time, there was a poor village in a country ravaged by war. The village was full of blacksmiths who worked night and day to provide the country’s soldier with swords and armour. They worked night and day despite the meagre food and water they were allowed, never once complaining because they knew that if they stopped, the country would surely fall to the invaders. Also in the village lived a boy called Fetch. He was called Fetch because that was all he did. He fetched the water for the barrels that quenched the swords. He fetched the leather straps that would be used to tie sheets of metal together for armour. But the thing he fetched the most was wood from the nearby forest.
Every morning, after only a few hours of sleep, he would be roused from the bed he shared with his older brother and told to go fetch more wood for the forges. With a makeshift backpack in hand, he would walk to the forest to gather what the lumberjacks had chopped. In the year since the war star
FFM#11 -- Quite ContraryThe sound of his tyres on the plascrete road was low and constant as a murmured lullaby, and Jax found himself nodding off as he made his way into the outer suburbs. He’d been awake for thirty hours straight, trying to patch up a vulnerability in the servers that he maintained for the school in between teaching. Some whizkid hacker had decided to scramble the results of a recent exam and hold the crypto key hostage until they paid him out.
Jax had finished getting rid of the holes that allowed the kid to get in there in the first place, and now he was on his way to purchase the lines of code that would give him the ability to trace the little bastard. Only problem was, those lines weren’t exactly legal.
He was practically asleep by the time he rolled into the driveway. He rubbed his face to wake up a bit and got out of his cruiser, waving his hand along the panels to lock them. A bored older male’s voice answered his knock. “Who is it?”
He couldn’t h
FFM#10 [Challenge] -- Send In The Clowns“Bloody hell, the elephant’s escaped.”
“What do you mean?
“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean?’? I mean, the bloody elehant’s gone and bloody escaped!”
“Alright, alright, don’t get snarky with me. Where’d it go?”
“Oh, just down the road for a tipple of whiskey. How should I know? Do I look like an elephant whisperer?”
“No, you look like a half-dressed clown.”
“And yet, I manage to be more of a professional than you, with your makeup done and your shoes on.”
“No need to be nasty.”
“Sorry, sorry, I’m just stressed. The elephant’s a big deal, you know.”
“I know. Look, here comes Sven. Let’s ask him. Hey, hey Sven!”
“Yes, little clown mans?”
“Have you seen the elephant anywhere?”
“Not of the days to yet. No.”
“Bastard, where the hell…"
“Don’t be swearsing me.”
FFM#9 -- ScraplickerThere were times when he thought back to the bad days. The times when he crawled around the junkyards searching for scraps to eat. Rust covered everything like a fine layer of mould, staining his teeth as he went over sheet metal with a serrated tongue. There was nourishment to be had, but what little heavy metals he found and absorbed couldn’t cover the energy he expelled finding them. That was, until he found the watch. It dangled there, glinting, its secret compartment revealed by a crusher and somehow missed by the primary pickers and their multitude of limbs.
Its shine had drawn other eyes to marvel, and they saw each other out of the corner of eyes riveted. None had moved immediately, instead waiting for that first move; the ego that would pronounce their claim on the energy source.
He was not that first, but he was the last. He kept the watch face as a memento, screwed into place over his heart, its hands stuck at the point at which his life changed.
FFM#8 [Challenge] -- Passivity"Seriously, you need to clean this shit up."
"Clean what shit up?
"Ha. I can understand your confusion, since it's pretty fucking difficult to pinpoint exactly where the shit ends and the actual fixtures of the room begin."
"Oh fuck," Gary drew out the vowel like a phone-call doodle. "You've got that pissy tone in your voice again. Calm your farm man."
Damien tried to visualise a farm that he could calm. But even in his mind's eye the rolling cornfields were covered in chip packets, and Gary sat slouched in a sun-weathered rocking chair, smoking a joint with a video game controller inexplicably in hand.
"Fuck my farm. How can you even live like this?"
Gary contrived to stretch out even further on the couch, knocking some dreg-filled beer bottles onto the floor. "What do you care? You got a sweet deal here. Rent's cheap."
Damien practised his pointed look.
"Look, my brothers are in active duty, man. It's stressful. Ha!" He pointed at the projected television screen, "Check out this blow
FFM#7 -- Dead ScentThey were out in the field that day for a practical lesson in crafting the wind. The teacher was one of the older students, in their seventh or eighth year and practically a maester. She had somehow avoided the cynicism that seemed to infect those in the higher years, presumably by embracing the impenetrably optimistic veneer that she was currently displaying. Shian hated everything about her.
"Breathe in deep. Feel the way the air around you rushes in to fill your lungs. Embrace that feeling, let it fill you up."
Shian didn't want to be filled up with anything. She'd already done so too well, the night before, with wine.
"Hold that breathe, let the air in your lungs mingle with your life force. Let it recognise you, so that it can convince the wind of your intentions when you let it out."
Her head was starting to pound in a fashion not terribly unlike the slamming of a door against her temple when the teacher told them to exhale. "Alright, let it go, exert yourself against the wind an
FFM#6 -- BounceLook, I’m not saying that I’m ungrateful. The universe hands you lemons, you make lemonade. The universe hands you super plasticiser formula that looks like a can of lemonade, you drink it. Geez, what an idiot. I mean, sure, it's gotten me into a pretty interesting career, and I wouldn't have met my wonderful wife--all three of her--if I hadn't drank that god-awful stuff. But there's a point at which you look around at your colleagues and wonder what you did in a past life to end up as a human pinball.
That's some fine scotch, you want some? Sure you do, let me pour you a finger. Or two, ha! Anyway, like I said, it's not like I'm ungrateful. And they've never said it, but I'm sure there's some kind of 'equal opportunities for crap superpowers' ruling somewhere in time that resulted in me getting recruited to the League. But it's been good. I've had to rely on my wits, you know? Back at the start, when I was still coming into my powers, it was obvious that I wasn't goi
FFM#5 [Challenge] -- Newsreader“Bloody hell, where’s Richard.”
“He’s in the tea room.”
“What else? Making a cuppa.”
“Tea? He’s supposed to be on air in five minutes.”
“It’s what he always does before a news broadcast.”
“On radio perhaps, but this is television.”
“And he’s got a face for radio, so he needs a bit of spruc—hello Richard.”
“Hello David, how are you this evening?”
“Perfectly fine, thank you. Listen, if we could get you down to the wardrobe down the hall, we need to—“
“Oh, don’t be daft David. What should the television viewers care about the way I’m dressed?”
“Well, you understand it’s important to comport ourselves decently to the viewers at home.”
“I understand that, yes.”
“Good, then you’ll understand that the situation with your hair
FFM#4 -- MillinersShe had already worn a great many Hats when the one she was wearing failed. Milliners weren't technically (and legally, she supposed) allowed to let you know which Hat you had worn for the day that you wore it, but she had found pictures of herself on the 'net by what she would defend in court as chance. There she was, holding a flat silver serving tray in the background of a party where the hosts walked around nude to show off their temproids. And there, more innocently this time, holding hands with a woman she'd never seen and never likely would again. She kept a heavily encrypted folder of these pictures and videos of her time wearing different Hats, only opening and flicking through when she was drunk or anxious or both. She would look into her own eyes and wonder if she weren't wearing a Hat right then and there. Though who would request a night off to herself, she didn't know.
Waking up while wearing a Hat was like waking up from a dream into another dream; the previous imagined
FFM#3 [Challenge] -- BaliHave you been to Bali love? Oh I love Bali, I went there just yesterday love, just yesterday. Yes, I did. And did you know that it’s just as cheap to fly to Bali as it is fly to the East coast nowadays? Yes love, it is. That’s a lovely coat darling where did you get it? Was it expensive? Oh I used to have coats like that, but now, no. Oh I love Bali. I met a man there, yes I did. He was lovely. He asked me how to get to a bar, I can’t remember the name now. I told him, I don’t know how to get there but we can take a walk. And he laughed, oh he had a wonderful laugh. Do you know how much it is to auby a Jack Daniel’s in Bali. Less than two dollars it is. You couldn’t get a glass of orange juice for that much these days. I like Jack Daniels, do you love? I want to go back there one day but, you know. Oh and the elephants, I rode an elephant in Bali love. They put you on there and they get up and you’re as tall as the trees love. Have you ridden a
FFM#2 -- The ViolinistHer pegs had slipped significantly since his last visit. She held them out for him to see, lowering his glasses to get a better look through what remained of his eyesight. He tutted under his breath, then drew out from his case what looked like an old-fashioned corkscrew with a tapered end.
"This shouldn't hurt a bit," he said. "We've done this before, remember?"
She nodded and bit her lip, still anxious despite his assurances. He sat her down on the chair in front of him. "Now, tell me, how have you been?"
"Quite well, thank you," she replied.
“How’s he been treating you, okay?”
“Oh yes, okay.”
He noted a faint discord in her voice, “Okay?”
“Okay,” she repeated.
He inspected the pegs closely, one by one, and decided on the worst of them. Despite the callouses on his fingers, he unwound the strings from around it with the gentleness of a nurse unwrapping a bandage. Taking the peg in a firm grip, he said, “You know, this is the
FFM#1 [Challenge] -- The FutilitariansChapter 37: The Futilitarians -- A party that brought Nothing to the table
We have seen in previous chapters how the political scene in Australia developed towards the end of the 20th century and start of the 21st. But to briefly recap, in the current state of events we have the Australian Labour Party, a party founded on socialist principles and continued in the vein of worker's rights. And we have The Liberal Party of Australia, which had come to stand for economic liberalism and social ultra-conservatism. Both of these parties were summarily unprepared for the arrival of the one social movement that could render both of their philosophies moot points: The Futilitarians.
The Futilitarians started as a movement in the suburbs of Rockingham; a suburb south of Perth, Western Australia. It seems that one day, rather spontaneously, the residents of the suburb--to put it in terms they might have used themselves--stopped giving a shit. About anything. Television stopped amusing them,
My name is Phill and I'm a former () PhD student operating out of Perth, Western Australia. I've been here on dA for quite some time, and have been involved in all sorts of activites including, but not limited to: hosting a workshop at Writers-Workshop, drunken teamspeak story deliveries, hosting multiple competitions including the Ugly and Dream Journal contests, watching almost a dozen GD/GMs do their time, being the patron of three clubs (one of which even survived), alias trolling the forums, posting ill-thought-through dramallama-tastic journal entries, suggesting about a dozen DDs, receiving four DDs myself, moving accounts once, being staff at ProsePlease, suture, Wordspill, and LitFFS, quitting dA twice, coming back twice, declaring jihad on the 'P emoticon, and much much more. I'm aligned strongly with the camp that uses dA to try and improve their writing through feedback, but I'm as open to entertainment and socialising as anyone that joins the wild and wooly world of the forums and chats!|
I've been spending progressively larger chunks of my spare time working on my stories. I'll let the reader make the call as to whether the extra time has been effective.
I'm always on the look out for being part of collaborations with visual artists. Whether it's providing the wordy part of your comic series, or something a bit more experimental. Give me a shout if you think I'm your man (:
My publication credits include Verandah, Voiceworks, Soundzine, and 365tomorrows, dotdotdash, Fractured West, and The Geek Mook. I really want to boost that record this year with submissions to a bunch of publications, but in order to do that I've got to write the words first!
Current Residence: Perth, Western Australia
|22/05/2011 Comment on Amoreuse by BitchMedusa|
16/05/2012 Critique on Thoja by BerylAlexandros
16/05/2012 Critique on Auckland Dreams by Cassildra
15/05/2012 Critique on Come On Eileen by PinkyMcCoversong
15/05/2012 Comment on Catallus by PinkyMcCoversong
10/05/2012 Critique on Waiting for the Train by Metarex12
10/05/2012 Comment on Ice Cubes by rockstar1009
09/05/2012 Critique on Street Performers by neurotype
^After NEW NEW forum thread
17/1/2012 Critique on Smokestacks, Trench Coats, and Silence by saevuswinds
16/1/2012 Critique on Timeless by Lucy-Merriman
15/1/2011 Critique on The Courier by phoenixofthenet
12/1/2012 (lol)Comment on ODE TO PINEAPPLE by Sperpy
12/1/2012 Critique on Cassette Tape by CrumpetsHarvey
12/1/2012: Critique on Monday Ch 1, part 2 by thorns
12/1/2012: Comment on Monday Ch 1, part 1 by thorns
^After coming back again (again)^
16/12/2010: Critique on Azure Glass: Prologue by AlecWolfe
7/12/2010: Comment on Given-the-Chance by GwenavhyeurAnastasia
30/11/2010: Comment on Alone Till the End by xTalithax
25/11/2010: Critique on Dolente by pullingcandy
24/11/2010: Comment on A Rare Feeling by NudeDoctor
23/11/2010: Comment on Scratch by Niallthecool
23/11/2010: Critique on Sly Razor by K47454k1
21/11/2010: Critique on The Name by clownscape
20/11/2010 Critique on Aphrodite by Memnalar
20/11/2010 Comment on The Raven by art-acheiver-4eva
16/11/2010 Comment on Sex, Guns and Lies by Magic-fan
16/11/2010 Comment on Roots by corvuscreative
14/10/2010 Comment on In Love With You by aBlondMoment
13/10/2010 Comment on One - The Parents - Ch. 2 by CharredTears
13/10/2010 Comment on A tourist by Niallthecool
4/10/2010 Comment on Chess and Life Thereafter C1 by K47454k1
1/10/2010 Comment on Obsession and Monsters by theforsaken4
^After forum thread^
Comment on 1st draft-untitled-edit by ~lerkingshadow
Comment on Always and Forever by *xfaith-in-youx
#399607632 on The Death of Perfection by Em-E-chan
#356523694 on A Children's Novel by *essayist
#344631981 on Embrace by ~Ageotas
#343717822 on Children's War Game, Chapter 1 by ~jdskeleven
#340385060 on Hunting Darkness by =Triseena
#338196119 on Redemption Lost by ~Anglinagirl
#328802252 on Draft - Mother Nature by =bleebt (marathon!)
#327803927 on Solace by ~jdskeleven
#326811094 on Trust - Chapter 1 Part 1 by ~Varian-Nearic
#325402882 on Prologue by =bleebt
#324851091 on US2 Chapter 7: The Firewalker by =draco13
#324841443 on 9.33pm by ~CatchMe-22
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