When it grew too cold to stand outside, I came indoors and took off my jacket. Quick thumbnail now of the flat, and it won’t take long. One small bedroom with a sofa-bed permanently extended. One bathroom. One kitchen that is visited occasionally by a family of oriental cockroaches. A living room. No pictures on the walls. Bare floorboards. A couple of shelves with a couple of books. My trusty old radio. Mengele’s rug. Mengele. A yucca. The view. A vodka bottle. Me.
I’m pleased to be able to reveal the cover to the new anthology, scheduled for publication next year. Credit to Titan for agreeing to list every author on the cover. None of that ‘And Many Others’ nonsense here!
It was a privilege to work with so many talented writers. I hope you’ll be as impressed by the stories as I was.
There was something about her shadow that just wasn’t right, but I was too pumped up to understand. Until I looked at her directly. I took in what was left of her for maybe a second, if that, then I turned off the light and sat in an armchair, just me and her in the darkness. Me and her and the ghosts of violence thickening in my mind.
Titan Books, November 2015
Mawker cocked his head at the bedroom, so I went to have a closer look. The body was still there, naked, erupted, strewn across the sheets like something from Professor Gunther von Hagens’ shed.
‘You know him?’ Mawker said. ‘Name of Liptrott.’
‘Not sure,’ I said. ‘He seems to have lost a bit of weight.’
Mawker looked at me with a pitying expression, as if I was a kid showing off at a party.
Liptrott had been unzipped. His face meanwhile bore the expression of someone who has just been given a key to the room marked Hot Pussy only to find a cat in a microwave.
Conrad Williams 