When I chose apophenia as the theme for this special issue, I was curious to see how bizarre the submissions were going to be. I was wondering how far I would have to suspend my disbelief for the "touches of the speculative" I alluded to in the call for submissions. Surprisingly, the answer turned out to be not at all. The pieces here are bizarre, are speculative, and are surreal. From future-predicting clouds to pet psychics, the events that take place aren't your average daily occurrences. Yet, these pieces brim with humanity despite, or even precisely because of, these elements — making them very easy to believe. Beautifully, the pieces in this (very) special issue speak to what we tend to dismiss as madness, as hallucination, as supernatural; and teach us that perhaps that's exactly what human reality is. Instead of using reality as a tool to evaluate fiction, the writers of these stories have urged me to start using art, the truest form of human expression, to view and review the world. I encourage you all to try it as you read along.
— Passant Eltarek
Fiction Intern
We drank exotic cocktails at the party. I leaned toward the girl and told her a story I’d read in a book. She ducked her head, honey-colored hair trickling down her neck. I could smell the fruity drink on her breath. Her boyfriend glanced our direction. I didn’t give a damn — even though it was his birthday.
Read MoreI remember cruising the internets, in military forums, and how a discussion about veteran suicide had a veteran mentioning that this life after war was like watching a movie. That you know how it’s made and how it ends and you just want out.
Read MoreIn my most basic training as a scientist, I’ve been instilled with the notion that correlation does not imply causation. And in truth, I see nothing beyond correlation in my research. I cannot for the life of me find any scientific evidence to support what I now feel must be true: clouds are communicating.
Read MoreThe truth was, I threw away most of my twenties — shooting up, snorting fast, inhaling hard and coughing up a lung after realizing my aspirations as an actor wouldn't come to fruition. Not that I had anything against failure; I'd been a failure all my life. I'd just hit a point where I needed something to go my way.
Read MoreZhen and Ann met at Berkeley Bowl market, reaching for the same cantaloupe. Their fingers touched. Then their eyes met. Then they let their fingers intertwine over the melon’s ropey surface. Or that’s what they told people.
Read MoreAt first, he didn’t notice the bookshops – one on either side of the road, each about half a mile away from the other. With the first one he had pulled in, thinking it was a convenience store, and had pulled out back onto the road again without stopping. The inconvenience of the moment stayed with him, irked him, like a missed joke, and the following day, when he drove past the place again, he pulled in for a closer look.
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