succour: new fiction and poetry - issue #4

8/15/2019 Succour: New Fiction and Poetry - Issue #4

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Editorial

To The Worlds End

Footnotes

Five Times

Four Poems

MoralsJam

The Silver Coin

Bekhterevs Madhouse

The Yellow Bicycle

Isnt this a beautiful picture

Regulars

Beauty

Meat WheelWatching The Fight

Two Poems

The Central American Space Programme

Tusks

Hairs Breath

Letter From A Distinguished Author

Contributors

Anthony Banks

Cathi Unsworth

Sean Gaston

Matt Thorne

Ben Murray

Luke KennardLaura Marsden

Andy Brown

Anthony Banks

Ginny Bailey

Kay Rone

Max Dunbar

Caroline England

Simon KossoffDavid Byrne

Sally Flint

Jay Clifton

Anthony Banks and Tom Fewings

Joh Hunt

David L. Hayles

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9

15

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25

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36

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51

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72

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90

91

94

Photography and front cover image by Chloe Briggs


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83 T h e O b s c e n e

One ne day, Watts took my husband I walking in the Forest of Knowledge. For

an academic to take a supervisee there before graduation was unprecedented, but

to allow his young wife in too! I was nervous about making the trip, but I went

along thinking that my husband would nd what he sought in the Forest, and that

afterwards we could nally consummate our marriage.


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84S u c c o u r

Into the

Forest we

went, but we

were followed by

Hislop, a jealous

undergraduate. I

could understand his envy. What gave

my husband the right to be led directly

into the Forest? After several haunted

days Hislop nally worked himself into a

shooting position, and although the best he

could do was put a bullet in my husbands

ankle, it was enough to halt our progress.

Hislop slunk back into the undergrowth, and

Watts and I gathered around my husband.


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In the week it took for gangrene to set in, Watts knelt at his head, whispering into his

ear day and night. How I longed to be given just a few moments with my beloved, in

which to mop his brow, and nally to offer my virginity! But at length the gangrene

blackened his balls, and put an end to all that.


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Still, in a ceaseless ow,

Watts imparted his quiet

words, and with every one

the gangrene crept up my

husbands beautiful body.

When nally he stopped,

my husband was utterly

wasted from toe to heart;

just the shoulders, arms

and head remained

healthy.


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Watts

rose,

exclaimed it is done, took a brief

glance at me then made to depart. But

it would not be


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My husband grabbed him

at the ankle and administereda fearful bite, tearing through

the boot, trouser, hair, skin, esh

and bone of Watts.

His cry echoed around the

Forest, but no-body came to his

aid. Terribly and relentlessly

my husband began to

consume him, bite by bite,picking at and sucking on

then breaking the bones.

Soon he had eaten all there was

to be eaten, except for the balls, which he

gave to me in a dying gesture.


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90S u c c o u r

Upon his

death, I

wandered

through the

Forest until

I arrived at

a favourable

spot. I putone of the

balls in my

vagina, my

belly gurgled, and

out popped an egg.

I buried the egg in the

ground, where it grew and

grew until it hatched a great

tusked beast.


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The beast remained underground

throughout its lifespan of centuries. Only

in adulthood did its tusks emerge from

the soil, but they would grow to

prodigious heights. During wars,

the combatants would impale their

enemies on these tusks you

could get twenty bodies on

each one! In time the bodies

decomposed; each tusk was

surrounded by countless

skeletons. In peacetime

children would come and

play with the bones.

So although things

didnt work out too

well that time, I retain

a ball, and fully intend

to enter motherhood

again some day.


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succour: new fiction and poetry - issue #4

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