AN ACIDIC STREAM OF FEAR RUSHED THROUGH my virtual veins like an incendiary chemical. Lutessa and I curled deeper into that dreadful corner and listened to the bloodcurdling snarls of the feral creatures, lurking right outside the closet door we hid behind.

Every chip and microprocessor in my artificial being shuddered, and every instinct under my counterfeit skin screamed at me – coming here was a terrible mistake! I wasn’t an adventurer, or a warrior, or some superhero, and if I was one, then I would’ve had an ‘H’ on my chest. H for Horrified. For Hopeless, for Helpless. H as in I was seconds away from dying in a heinous hellhole, at the dodgiest edges of this dark net dimension.

Look, I don’t want to bore you with the frightening details of how totally and inescapably screwed I was at that moment, so let’s just say that if my digital physiology included a bladder, then it would’ve been as empty as a beer bottle during happy hour. For good reason.

I’ll tell you this, malware ghouls are the worst of the worst. They are violent and mindless monsters, the living manifestations of computer viruses. They are the zombies, the lowlifes and the homicidal mental patients of our virtual universe.

An entire horde of ruthless zombies snarled right on the other side of our pathetic excuse for a barrier. When they started to claw against our door, I realised that I had no business being here. No business at all! I was Harrison iHeart for crying out loud: the heartwarming avatar of the iHeart application. A five-feet-tall, blue-eyed book-lover, an eco-friendly pacifist, and a hopeless romantic. I was the animated personification of the world’s number one dating app for heaven’s sake. So what the hell was I doing here? I’d never stepped a foot outside my own website, yet here I was, on the outside of my own network in this grisly corner of a nocturnal website, with nothing but my witty attitude to defend myself. I didn’t have the assault rifles of a war-game’s avatar, or the mental sharpness of a chess game’s avatar. I had no real weapons, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know how to use them. The closest I’ve come to an actual fight, was when my internal grammar settings, who steadfastly believe that the word love should be spelled L-O-V-E, fights with my internal dictionary about whether or not to update the spelling of said word, due to the texting idiots who repeatedly spell it as L-U-V.

Read here:

Fluid: The Freedom to Be

THE BOOK
In these twenty short stories of inquiry, transgression, osmosis and transformation, we embrace the fluid nature of humanity.

THE CONTRIBUTORS
The anthology’s contributors are largely established South African authors who
have a track record in the publishing industry, as well as exciting emerging writers. The writers include Peter-Adrian Altini, Diane Awerbuck, K. L. Bohle, Anna Hug, Kingsley Khobotlo, Yuwinn Kraukamp, Alex Latimer, Keith Oliver Lewis, Lerato Mahlangu, Shari Maluleke, David Medalie, Mabel Mnensa, Lerato Moletsane, Nadine Moonsamy, Shanice Ndlovu, Vuyokazi Ngemntu, Robyn Perros, Bridget Pitt, Lorraine Sithole, Jarred Thompson and Andrew Robert Wilson.

THE EDITORS
JOANNE HICHENS has to date edited seven highly praised anthologies of South African short stories, including Bad Company, Bloody Satisfied, Adults Only and Die Laughing. She has published several crime novels, including Divine Justice and Sweet Paradise, and a memoir, Death and the After Parties.

KARINA M. SZCZUREK is the (co)editor of, among others, Touch: Stories of Contact, Encounters with André Brink, Disruption: New Short Fiction from Africa and Hair: Weaving and Unpicking Stories of Identity. She is also the author of Invisible Others and The Fifth Mrs Brink.

FOREWORD: Lorraine Sithole

ISBN/EAN: 978-0-9946805-7-0
PUBLICATION DATE: May 2023
PUBLISHER: Tattoo Press

TATTOO PRESS is an independent small publisher, specializing in contemporary South African short fiction.