Issue #63

Summer 2017 | August 1, 2017

In this Issue:

The Revenge of the House Hurlers
by Ken Poyner

streetlamp

No one had suspected the depth of their emotion. As with any other class of professionals, we imagined they each had an affinity for their craft, some interest beyond a simple means to an income. We opined they had a guild, a professional magazine, poorly attended monthly meetings. Vividly ordinary. Half-respected, half-misunderstood, wholly unentertaining, all of them in possession of more details than those outside of the profession would ever care to know.

Not all that different from the brick-mites or the road benders or the fern illustrators or any denizens of the physically demanding lines of work. Read more...

The Boat by Lorie Broumand

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I thought I might find a Dryococelus australis at the bayou, and I signed up for a tour by boat.

There were insects everywhere. I saw a clutch of Dytiscidae. I heard six feet echo through the moss, suspiciously heavy, resoundingly singular, and my heart stood alert in delight; but then I saw someone go in, and I recognized that what I heard was only more Dytiscidae.

I got into the boat and we took off. Read more...

Three Stories by Ian Seed

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Generation Gap

My maternal grandfather turned up at my council flat with his father, who was a tiny bearded man in an ancient wheelchair. I hadn’t seen them for a long time. Without saying hello, my great grandfather raised a fist in the air and began to berate me for being nearly sixty and still without a proper home or job. Read more...

Secret by Susi Lovell

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When Margie is pressed to share a secret at the annual office retreat, she hesitates, hoping lunch will be announced. It's been a long morning and they're all hungry.

C'mon Margie, they urge. We've all shared our secrets so it's only fair you share yours. How will we bond if we don't share secrets? Read more...

The Last Mournful Summer of Mr Pip
(excerpt) by Viki Shock

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(Translated by Graeme and Suzanne Dibble)

23rd July 19..

It was a nice day, so I decided to go for a walk, dressed only in a light jacket, three-quarter-length trousers and sandals, with a straw hat on my head, pince-nez on my nose and a walking stick in my hand.

Naturally, I had my indispensable notebook and fountain pen tucked under my arm. Thus kitted out, I stepped onto the veranda, where I encountered a group of unfamiliar terrestrials. Read more...

The Invisibility Cloak by Claire Bateman

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According to rumor, there are some purchasers who choose to experience invisibility only in a solitary state; before donning the cloak, they lock their doors and close their shades.

Maybe they get some kind of psychosexual kick out of being inside of but not observing their own bodies; maybe they use invisibility as homeopathic self-treatment for existential irresolution.

Maybe they’re engaged in meditation practice, and the cloak is a somatic koan by which one simultaneously is and is not present to oneself. Read more...

About Our Coffee and Other Fare

Please Note: All of the coffee served at The Irreal Cafe is fair trade, organic, shade-grown and not real. All of the food served at The Irreal Cafe is organic, vegan, locally sourced and not real. See "At Our Cafe" for more about what we would serve at The Irreal Cafe and how we would serve it if there were an Irreal Cafe.