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Monthly Archives: April 2010

Paul D. Brazill
WARSAW MOON: PART TWO

The tall men in the black hats and long black overcoats looked like shadows as they cut through the snow smothered square.

A ghostly spiral of smoke drifted up from the husk of the burnt out car as Darko fell to his knees, the low hum that hovered in the distance growing louder.

He looked up, gasping, as the plane roared overhead. His fingers buzzed and tingled and the sensation spread through his hands and up his arms. The weight of an elephant was on his chest and then he felt the cold hard metal against his forehead.

Then the day dissolved to black.

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First there were trickles and then there was a flood until what seemed to be hundreds of people spilled out over the square, like jackals searching for carrion. The men in the black overcoats slipped through the crowd as the approaching sirens screamed nearer.

Shuffling into the corner a nearby alleyway, Brendan pushed back the brim of his black fedora and plucked a battered packet of Galois from his raincoat pocket. He handed one to Arek, sweat peeling from his acne scarred face.

‘Another one bites the dust,’ growled Arek, his accent as thick as treacle.

‘Aye,‘ said Brendan, the traces of a grin appearing at the corner of his mouth. ‘Just not the one we were after.’

He coughed and spat on the ground. He wiped his mouth, revealing the red tatto on his wrist.

‘Are you gonna call or am I?’ he said.

Arek inhaled deeply and looked up to heavens, at the stars and the moon, as if hoping for help from above.

* * *

The aquarium bubbled and gurgled, bathing the office in a sickly green light. The air in the room was warm and soupy and Dragan steadily sipped a glass of gin.

At a large desk, a raven haired woman was using a gold credit card to chop up a little heap of cocaine. She leaned forward and snorted through a Harrods pen.

‘Ay Caramba, mother fucker,’ she said, her Latino accent as thick and dark as an Irish coffee.

Dragan poured himself another large gin.

‘Gin makes you sin,’ said the woman, with a chuckle. Dragan glared a her.

She turned away, retouched her make up and stood up. Guilt rumbled inside Dragan like a thundercloud. He’d sworn that the previous time would be the last time but once again he’d broken his promise to himself.

The woman walked over to him. She was tall and in her early twenties with wan looking skin, red lipstick slashed across her full lips and her black hair cut into a Louise Brooks bob. She was wearing a red PVC raincoat and shiny black stiletto heels. Dragan took a wad of cash from his wallet and wearily handed it to her.

The James Bond theme began to play and Dragan took out his mobile phone.

‘Tak,’ he said and listened for a few moments before answering.

He slumped over the large oak desk .

‘And exactly how much of a bollocks is ‘a bit of a bollocks’?’ he said, his expression volcanic.

‘Maybe I’ll go?’ said the woman.

Dragan waved indifferently toward her and she walked out of the office door, her head held down but still watching.

And still listening.

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Paul D. Brazill was born in Hartlepool, England and is now on the lam in Bydgoszcz, Poland.

His stories are available in print in NEEDLE MAGAZINE (The Sharpest Tools In The Box), Howl: Dark Tales of the Feral and Infernal (The Stamp Of A Vamp) and RADGEPACKET 4 (The Nightwatchman).

COMING SOON ARE STORIES in the anthologies Harbinger*33, Daily Flash, Daily Bites Of Flesh, Don’t Tread On Me, FLASH! and Bats In The Belfry.

His story The Tut was nominated for a 2010 Spinetingler award. .

His stories have appeared online at A Twist Of Noir, Beat To A Pulp, disenthralled, Radgepacket Online, Powder Burn Flash, Blink Ink, The Flash Fiction Offensive,Shoots & Vines, Six Sentences, Pulp Metal Magazine, MiCrow, The Legendary, Thrillers Killers ‘n’ Chillers and other such classy joints.

His column “I didn’t say that, did I?” is a regular sore spot at Pulp Metal Magazine.

* * *

This is Michal Giedrojc‘s first appearance at disenthralled. You can see more of his work and contact him through his website: giedrojcmichal.com.

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Part One of WARSAW MOON can be read in Issue #6.

Part Three is in the works.

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Produced by Walter Conley.

Upcoming issues will include Theater, Fiction, Poetry, Art and, provided I live through the encounter, excerpts from the unpublished friendship manual by Katashi Katsu.

I recommend that readers of disenthralled check out VAGABONDAGE PRESS. The March 2010 issue of The Battered Suitcase includes work by disenthralled contributor Roberta Lawson.

You can reach me, Walter, at pitchbrite@gmail.com and on twitter as pitchbrite. Submissions to disenthrallers@gmail.com. Please take the time to familiarize yourself with our journal and guidelines before submitting.

All material copyright©2010 by respective creators.

SHE’S DIFFERENT
Text and photos by Adam Lach

Marina Till, a transsexual, has had numerous medical examinations and treatments, such as a very intense hormonal therapy, at times seriously weakening her organism. For a long time she has been dreaming about a sex change surgery but she can not afford it. She does not accept herself and her body. Suicide attempts and alcohol abuse are means of escape from the body she lives in. A body that does not belong to her. She said, “Once I swallowed a large amount of pills and they simply went right through my body. Sitting on the toilet I could hear them hitting its basin. It was then, I realized, that if it was so hard to kill oneself, then what would it take to change one’s gender?”

I spent a few long weeks with Marina. I wondered how she coped with her difficult life-role. Her being suspended between mental existence as a woman and the masculine form of her physical being was for me a very important element of the transformation. I focused on the relation between herself and her body and was able to observe the existing antagonism, a proof of what she has yet to go through. After a sex change surgery she will legally, psychologically and physically become a woman and forget the fact, that once she was a man.
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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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Photo: Adam Lach/Napo Images

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She does not accept herself and her body.

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Produced by Walter Conley.

All rights reserved by Adam Lach/Napo Images. Do not use without express written permission. This story first appeared at NAPO IMAGES. Thanks to Adam for graciously allowing me to reprint it here at disenthralled.

Adam Lach can be contacted at lach@naopimages.com.

(Photo copyright©2010 Brooke Shaden; see Issue #5)

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SUBMISSIONS ARE OPEN

We’re up to something. I’m not sure what. More editors. New submission address. All kinds of projects in the works. Have a look around, check out the guidelines. Create something. First-timers are strongly encouraged to submit.

Here’s the new email: disenthrallers@gmail.com

If you’d like to address a specific editor (Walter Conley, Paul Dutra, Quin Browne, Peggy McFarland), put his or her name in the subject line.

Address general questions or comments to me, Walter. You can also find me on facebook (“walter conley”) and twitter (“pitchbrite”).

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Our latest publication: MARY MILLS & JENNY MAY PETERSON

Walter Conley
Louisa, VA
4/4/10