WE LOOK for several kinds of attributes on our path toward discovering and presenting the literary New. One of them is a certain level of energy– energy in sensitivity, ideas, or style. A piece of writing is like a song. It can be a calm but moving aria– or can rock the house with crashing guitars and a steady fast beat. In either case the work hits you from the moment you enter the venue and take your seat.

WE WANT the writing we offer to hit readers, so that whatever you think of it, yea or nay, it strikes you with a vibe. Some strong level of aesthetic experience. Which we believe our newest offering– in the form of a featured short story– does capably: “Climax of Horrors” by talented writer Benjamin Fidler. The story presents a vibe of chaos– but is it a vibe of the future or the vibe of today?

This was way before all those bodies were splattered across the highway, back when you could still get a decent banana, buffets were still all-you-could-eat and not all-that-we-have, back when the moon was a lot brighter, more like a lightbulb than a pinhead. This was after Freddie, but before Ricky with the round butt. Before Andre with the rough hands. Back when it seemed to me the world could use a fox or two less. Granted I had a predisposition to be afraid of foxes. I blame that salty stray Red Ridinghood. I mean, who goes around throwing compliments about another person’s teeth? You’re just asking to get bit. And before you go there, yes, I know, it was a wolf. But samesame really. Wolf. Fox. Both slinking around acting like they own the whole damn gut pile.