Things have been pretty busy at Clinicality Press lately. What with promoting the January sale and ensuring that our next book, Christopher Nosnibor’s From Destinations Set is set to go, as well as writing press releases that we’ll be starting to circulate soon, we’ve had precious little time for much else. For this reason, our Clinical, Brutal blogzine, launched in September, has been taking something of a back seat lately, and we haven’t posted any new fiction in a while. That’s all set to change in a few weeks, however, and we’ve got some killer new fiction lined up to get things going again.
We’re also on the lookout for more stories – or poems, if they’re suitably kick-ass – for our blogzine. It’s hoped that the best of these will provide the basis of our next anthology, which we’re hoping to assemble some time in 2012.
If you have a piece you think we might dig, get in touch via the contact page of the website… and watch this space for more news and cutting-edge fiction!
The singer was a prick. You could tell by the way he looked down on the crowd that he thought he was cool as fuck. Wanker.
Christ, he was only two years older than me and Mel. I could remember how he used to pick on us at school. It ended after I punched him in the face and nearly broke his cheek bone. Now here he was, pretending to be king of the world.
“Now that guy,” Mel said, drawing out her words and smiling at me, “Is a complete cockhead.”
Some knob fell out of the mosh pit and slammed into me. I grabbed him by the waist and chucked him back in. I laughed and turned to Mel but she was too busy snogging Si, her latest conquest.
I hated the weedy little fucker. He was always hanging off her, with a sulk on and pretending to be bored. I’d thought a lot about catching him alone, maybe coming back from the bogs or the bar, and then taking him outside and kicking his face off. But Mel would eventually find out and I’d be screwed.
“For God’s sake Annie, give us some privacy.”
She’d caught me staring at them again. Shit. Someone brushed past my boob and I automatically raised my fist to smack them one. It was just some lass collecting glasses.
The band thrashed through their third cover, sending the small crowd mental. I couldn’t hear anything. I was absorbed by the pleasure on her face, the way she bit her lip when he grabbed her backside, how she smiled when he ran his tongue over the inside of her ear.
The song ended. They momentarily disengaged from one another and joined in the half hearted clapping. Mel turned and looked right at me.
“Still,” Mel said, indicating to the knobhead singer. “You’ve got to admit, he’s got something.”
Something inside me… snapped.
I stormed forward, pushing people out of my way until I got to the stage. The bouncers didn’t see me coming. Before anyone knew it, I was up there and pounding the microphone into the face of the singer. They just about got their hands on me as I started biting into the bridge of his broken nose.
As they dragged me off him, I looked around for Mel. She wasn’t there. She must have left already.
We publish books. Brilliant books. However, we are a zero-budget publishing house, and putting books out and promoting them is costly and time-consuming, and we receive more brilliant submissions than we can ever publish in print. So, to address this, we shall shortly be using this blog space to publish some of the great work we receive but can’t, for one reason or another (usually financial) put out as books or pamphlets or include in collections.
In time, this blog will also be integrated into the Clinicality Press website, but in the meantime, skip over to http://clinicalitypress for more… and watch this space!