Liars' League

Ray by Sadie Nott

Read by Miranda Harrison

The hood of Jessie’s parka was pulled forward so it was not until she was nearly home that she caught her first glimpse of him. A huge ginger Tom, stretched out in their window box. He was squashing the purple crocuses her mum, Dawn, had planted there. A bit of nature to counteract all the car fumes, Dawn had said.

When Jessie opened the gate, she realised with a start it was not a cat at all. The fox opened one eye. Jessie took off her rucksack and held it protectively across her chest. You could tell from the size of him that it was a male fox. The jangle of Jessie’s keys didn’t seem to faze him. She wanted to shoo him away but something about him made her hesitate. Brazen, that’s what Nan would have called him, if she was still around.

Not Like Other Girls by Lizzie Milton

Not Like Other Girls MP3

Read by Arden Fitzroy

Dad was a bit surprised when mum gave birth to one million spiders. Everyone was. I mean they would be - giving birth to one million spiders is not typical. The thing about giving birth to one million spiders, the reason spiders give birth to one million spiders, is that most of them will die. Sometimes they crawl off to seek their fame and fortune in foreign lands, but usually they just die.

This was exactly what happened with mum and dad which, as you can imagine, for them was a bloody relief. What do you do with one million spiders? Granted, on a one-to-one ratio one spider is much lower maintenance than one baby, but one million ... that’s a lot of spiders.

Dwarfs Don't Die by Doro Boehme

Dwarfs Don't Die MP3

Read by Sophie Cartman

I smear a slug of Nutella onto a halved Granny Smith. She scatters the animals: the octopus in a sweater, the disemboweled lion, a furry white blood cell holding hands with a glassy-eyed botulism tube – plush-toy microbes scaled up from seven zeros and a decimal point to fist-size velvet. They’ll populate seven hills and a forest, threaten Snow White but won’t harm her. Bear went missing last week in the park but remains present in spirit; we talk about him a lot. There’s a unicorn, just in case, but realistically, it’s too small to corner miracles, not in Chicago. Mostly it gets kicked under the bed when she flees from the hunter. And we prop up a creature with appendages so unproportioned and facial features so ill-defined, we call it Ms. Speass because we don't know anyone else by that name.

Ink by Aileen O'Farrell

Read by Carrie Cohen

I may be the last typesetter in England. And like the last speaker of a tribal language I am increasingly in a world of my own. I speak of ink levels and typefaces, margins and frames, and the young activists nod at me but they cannot really grasp it. They have seen printed works of course – exquisite books in libraries and newspapers in museums. Artefacts from a more beautiful and a more primitive age. Metal. Ink. Paper. To think we once had to cut down forests to share our stories. The clamour of presses, the stink of chemicals.

LATEST EVENT: Women & Girls, Tuesday 13th August

NEXT EVENT: TOIL & TROUBLE (pre-Hallowe'en show) on Tuesday 8th October.

SUBMISSION DEADLINE: Sunday 1st September

Our annual Women & Girls special, where all the writers, protagonists and readers are female, featured six authors, from the US, Ireland, Australia and UK - and six excellent actresses too, of course. Together they gave us tales of witty bankers, hyper-connected dystopias, vulpine lovers, lonely Durham teens, Snow White gone wrong, and dating dilemmas of the giant spider.

WINNING STORIES FOR WOMEN & GIRLS
Dwarfs Don't Die by Doro Boehme NEW AUTHOR - read by Sophie Cartman
Not Like Other Girls by Lizzie Milton NEW AUTHOR - read by Arden Fitzroy
Ray by Sadie Nott NEW AUTHOR - read by Miranda Harrison
Kind, Intelligent, Generous by Georgie Melrose NEW AUTHOR - read by Annalie Wilson
The Man in the End Terrace by Catherine Edmunds NEW AUTHOR - read by Gloria Sanders
Ink by Aileen O'Farrell - read by Carrie Cohen

Doors open at 7pm for a 7.30 start and tickets are £5 on the door (currently cash only, sorry, but there's a cashpoint 2 minutes away). Entry includes a programme, participation in our infamous book quiz where fantastic books by women can be won, and of course all the sweeties you can eat. Drinks and food are available at the bar throughout. There's no pre-booking, but tables for four or more can be reserved by calling 07808 939535.

The venue is the downstairs bar at: The Phoenix Pub, 37 Cavendish Square, London W1G 0PP

Accessibility note: Access to the basement is via stairs: there's no lift, sadly. The Phoenix is 5 minutes' walk from Oxford Circus tube station, which is on the Victoria, Bakerloo and Central lines

Frozen Futures by Rhys Timson

Frozen Futures MP3

Read by Tony Bell

Shortly after he turns thirty-five, Tony decides to have his head frozen after he dies. Frozen isn’t the right word. Vitrified is the word, but he’s not really sure what that means. His whole body would have been preferable, but it is too expensive. Besides, he is confident the future scientists will be able to regrow his body using the cells from his head, like a seed grows a tree, or else he will be granted a robotic body with titanium bones and wiry sinews, like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Terminator, the T-800, but with a human brain.

He doesn’t tell his wife, partly because he knows she will think he is crazy and partly because when he thinks about the future he doesn’t really see her. He sees hoverboards and flying cars and underwater cities and 3D video billboards showing Japanese women applying cherry-red lipstick. What he doesn’t see is his wife or his two children or a semi-detached house in Guildford with black mould on the bathroom ceiling and a dishwasher that gets clogged up with pieces of pasta every few weeks. And besides, his marriage vows said ‘till death us do part’.

How to be an Astronaut by Alice Franklin

How to be an Astronaut MP3

Read by Gloria Sanders

1. Read

You are young when you start reading books about space. Event horizons, the Oort Cloud and the Kuiper Belt enter your lexicon long before you learn to spell the word egg-zill-er-ate-ing, acc-sell-er-ate or happy-ness. Your school doesn’t allow you to write in pen. They’re not even teaching physics. “My Very Easy Method Just Shows Us Nine Planets” was something you learnt when you were three, and when you were four, your learnt it was false.

By seven: “Pluto is not a planet, Miss,” you say.

“Yes, it is,” the teacher says. “Pluto is most definitely a planet. It says so in your textbook.”

The textbook is twenty years old, which means it’s thirteen years older than you, which means it is shit.

London 2025 by Wan Shinfah

London 2025 MP3

Read by Cliff Chapman

Others might remember things differently, but if you ask me, something changed after he started time-travelling. That's not to say there was a clean break between before and after. I think he took it up because he needed something new in his life, something to give him a bit of a jolt, to broaden his horizons – a lot of us need that these days – but I reckon that's when things started to get worse.

I remember the first time, he didn't even tell me. He said he was going to China, but not the Yangtze Valley in 1931. Maybe he wasn't going to say anything at all – he was always a very private person – but when he returned, he couldn't contain it.

"The crazy thing is how similar it is," he said, drumming his long fingers across the crumbs on our shared kitchen table. "Like, I know this sounds kind of dumb, but the past doesn't feel like it's the past. You expect it's going to be, I dunno, black and white or it'll somehow feel far away and faded and ... historical! ... but it just feels like this. Like you and me here."

Proxima Centauri by Oliver Parkes

Proxima Centauri MP3

Read by Greg Page

The toolbox clattered as Jim flung himself down the hallway. He had to fix the hole in the roof or else he’d run out of oxygen and die. Again.

‘Oxygen levels depleting. Please report to the impact site immediately.’ It was good to hear the computer again, Jim thought. When the debris struck the ship, the whole system had gone quiet.

He placed the sheet of metal over the hole and, gloveless, used the blowtorch to weld the two together. He only had a little training from Daniels, who seemed to have a toolbox permanently attached to the end of his arm. Jim had been a surgeon on Earth, so at least he had a steady hand. The pull of the vacuum wasn’t quite enough to drag him out into space as the ship’s gravity well had increased to keep him on board, but his hair still fluttered in the escaping air.

His concentration lapsed for a moment - he was thinking of the next step, whether to stop the fire himself or let the ship’s suppression system handle it - and he cut through his finger.

The Martlet by Abigail Lee

The Martlet MP3

Read by Lois Tucker

They all went for a walk on Ramsgate beach before lunch and found a dozen washed-up dogfish, dull-grey in death, with down-slit, gurning mouths like sad baby sharks, scattered over the otherwise unblemished, sunny sand. It took the gleam off the morning, and they retreated up the zigzagging sea-stairs where chalk fell from the paperwhite cliffs and people wrote their names on the concrete. Ceri’s work-friend Lo, exhaustingly playful, grabbed a piece and scrawled their names, the date and HAPPY 30th CERI! 

At the rundown clifftop café they all bought cheap icecream and chips: nobody wanted fish now. Gulls and pigeons, sensing bounty, attacked in waves, and Rachel noticed one scruffy pigeon lingering longer, more exhausted than the others. It had an angry pink bubblegum blob where one of its feet should be, and hobbled about with a theatricality which in a human would imply faking.

Latest event: INFINITY & BEYOND on Tuesday 11th June

WE HAVE LIFT-OFF! Our sci-fi-flavoured special to commemorate 50 years since the moon landings featured five forward-looking stories exploring the ultimate theme. Our lit-loving audience teleported into The Phoenix, Cavendish Square on Tuesday 11th June to experience deep space, time-travel tourism, cryogenics gone wrong, vanishing clones, astronautical ambitions and a terrifying game of Murder in the Dark ... You can find the YouTube video playlist here, the podcast here, and the texts of all the stories here (along with individual videos and MP3s). 

INFINITY & BEYOND WINNING STORIES
London 2025 by Wan Shinfah NEW AUTHOR, read by Cliff Chapman
Proxima Centauri by Oliver Parkes NEW AUTHOR, read by Greg Page
How to be an Astronaut by Alice Franklin, read by Gloria Sanders
The Martlet by Abigail Lee, read by Lois Tucker
Frozen Futures by Rhys Timson, read by Tony Bell

Usual NASA rules apply: doors open at 7pm for a 7.30 start and tickets are £5 on the door (currently cash only, sorry, but there's a cashpoint 2 minutes away). Entry includes a programme, participation in our infamous book quiz where fantastic science fiction can be won, and of course all the Flying Saucers you can eat. Drinks and food are available at the bar throughout. There's no pre-booking, but tables for four or more can be reserved by calling 07808 939535.

The venue is the downstairs bar at: The Phoenix Pub, 37 Cavendish Square, London W1G 0PP

Accessibility note: Access to the basement is via stairs: there's no lift, sadly. The Phoenix is 5 minutes' walk from Oxford Circus tube station, which is on the Victoria, Bakerloo and Central lines

Last Rites by Jess Worsdale

Last Rites MP3

Read by David Mildon

We were bowling down a bóithrín with Springsteen on the radio when we hit the cow. It was me and Cian and Rob in the back, Aidan driving and no-one in the front because he’d said it would be a distraction and besides, he needed space for the suits. We’d always relied on Eoin to protest this kind of behaviour and when no one said anything I abruptly realised how coltish our friendship now was, and wondered whether we’d ever be able to rebalance it. Still, it was cosy, the three of us sharing warm elbows and nips of whisky like auld ones on a park bench. Aidan drank nothing except peppermint tea, which he’d brought in a monogrammed flask with a self-conscious and challenging air about him that none of us rose to. A pink winter afternoon and the smudged grass and hedgerows whipped by as we rolled west into the cowboy sunset.

It had been Aidan’s idea to drive. This time of year and the coaches were full of Midlands shoppers on pilgrimage to the sales both ways along the M6. At this short notice it’d be cheaper and anyway it wasn’t often that all of us were back together so we might as well make the best of it.

Namaste Bitches by Ana Soria

Read by Keleigh Wolf

Casper was always trying to fix me. He left flyers for divination therapy and female-only fasting retreats tucked inside my boxes of sugary cereal. My inbox was clogged with emails from him linking me to articles with titles like; “How I Overcame My Rage with The Help of Rose Quartz.” Casper had a well-paid job at an architecture firm, wore Japanese knitwear and owned a kitchen appliance for every eventuality. I was five stone overweight and had recently been fired.

For the past week I had been pretending to get ready for work, waiting for Casper to leave, then ordering takeaway falafel and masturbating on his Egyptian cotton bed sheets. I watched so much porn that the people on screen became irrelevant; reduced to a series of plucked and greasy orifices positioned in increasingly ridiculous poses. I spent my days with numb fingers, chasing those fleeting seconds that gave me an escape from the tightness in my chest.

The Poetry of Jenny by Gerard McKeown

The Poetry of Jenny MP3

Read by Zach Harrison

Jenny was still emoting about her poem. The poses of the others in the circle told me her poem was important, vital even. Jenny had brought up her poem when talking about how she’d recently gone off anything that tasted of oranges, because she was peeling one when she was alone in her house, and she’d a papercut she’d forgotten about on the tip of her index finger, and when she pierced through the peel into the soft squishy pulp, the sting of the juice entering her papercut reminded her of the pain she’d felt arguing with her mother. And how she wished their relationship wasn’t so dysfunctional, because she’d never have another mother-daughter relationship in this life, as she’d chosen not to have children this time around, and she started thinking about the pain of childbirth and her periods.

That’s the point I zoned out and started thinking how boring the night was, and how I probably wouldn’t keep in touch with these people after I went to university. My recounting of a funny sketch from television the night before had fallen out of my mouth like a yolkless egg. 

Olena's Scalpel by Alan Graham

Olena's Scalpel MP3

Read by Patsy Prince

The envelope arrived at Olena’s desk at 12.01 exactly. It had all the markings of important and urgent work. She opened it carefully, and inside found a single photograph.

It was an image taken just outside the Party Congress Building. There were two men in the centre, seemingly overflowing with happiness at some glorious news. A banner above them declared the cause of their jubilation; apparently the nation had constructed a record number of tractors that year. The two men themselves she recognised instantly. One was the Great Leader, the Dear Father of the nation. The other was Konstantin Gregorin, chief minister in a dozen departments.

A note was also inside the envelope. It read simply “No more Gregorin.”

No East or West by Mark Sadler

No East or West MP3

Read by Silas Hawkins

I strongly believe that it was not a unification.

A unification is born of diplomacy and compromise. What happened in East Germany was defeat, followed by surrender to a conquering imperialist power. The wall dividing the city of Berlin was pulled away in pieces. Hands, that were pre-conditioned to taking what they want, disregarding any greater good, reached through gaps in the barrier to plunder our resources. The night it happened, I witnessed a procession of tractors from our side disappearing forever through one of the checkpoints, into a cloud of deafening music and smoke.

In those times, when the east was still the east, I was happier, and thinner. Now I am miserable and I don't know the reason. The hairy slouch of my belly disgusts me.

Counterfiction by Tim Aldrich

Read by Tim Larkfield

Dear Mr Aldrich

Thank you for the submission of your short story ‘Led by Donkeys’ to Counterfiction magazine. I can speak not only as editor of our august periodical but for each of the judging panel in welcoming the appearance of your unique voice to the world of counter-factual speculative fiction. There was much debate and one might even say passion around the table as we discussed your work; so engaged, indeed, were the judges that they shared some detailed feedback which I copy below.

I would start however by thanking you for not setting your story within one of the now very tired scenarios such as John F. Kennedy surviving his trip to Dallas in 1963, the success of Hitler and Nazi Germany against the Allies after 1944, and - curiously - had the People’s Princess not taken that ill-fated journey to Paris. In contrast, your tale felt fresh, imaginative and very contemporary. The absence of airships alone made my day.

Latest event: BEFORE & AFTER on Tuesday 9th April at The Phoenix

As Brexit looms (or does it? Who knows ...?!) we selected six superb stories of change & choice to distract you at our BEFORE & AFTER show on Tuesday 9th April. There were escapes and tipping points, cats and cows, sex and death, poetry and fistfights, yoga and porn, the Berlin Wall and a fishtank full of ghosts. And it was STILL only £5 entry, which includes a programme, our infamous book quiz, and free birthday cake because we are 12! Here's the podcast and here's the YouTube video playlist. Enjoy ...

WINNING STORIES for BEFORE & AFTER
Last Rites by Jess Worsdale, read by David Mildon
Namaste Bitches by Ana Soria, read by Keleigh Wolf
Counterfiction by Tim Aldrich, read by Tim Larkfield
The Poetry of Jenny by Gerard McKeown, read by Zach Harrison
No East or West by Mark Sadler, read by Silas Hawkins
Olena's Scalpel by Alan Graham, read by Patsy Prince

As usual, doors open at 7pm for a 7.30 start and tickets are a fiver on the door (currently cash only, sorry, but there's a cashpoint across the street). Drinks and food are available at the bar throughout. There's no pre-booking, but tables for four or more can be reserved by calling 07808 939535.

The venue is the downstairs bar at: The Phoenix Pub, 37 Cavendish Square, London W1G 0PP

Accessibility note: Access to the basement is via stairs: there's no lift, sadly. The Phoenix is 5 minutes' walk from Oxford Circus tube station, which is on the Victoria, Bakerloo and Central lines. 

N.B. Our images above come from the lovely kids' book Before & After by Jean Jullien - do check it out & buy!

Lili of the Valley of the Shadow by Derek Ivan Webster

Lili of the Valley of the Shadow MP3

Read by Alex Greenhalgh - full podcast here.

The woman at the store assured him there was nothing to be ashamed of. He was almost fourteen and it was natural that he would be exploring these things. That she was dressed in a leather harness with studded choke collar didn’t prove as distracting as the pale curves and bulges of her barely covered skin. She wrapped his purchase in a black satin bag. It just fit in his backpack.

“Don’t worry about the sign. You can come anytime.” She patted him on the head and he was almost comforted. “No judgements here.” It was the glimpse of her nipple that sent him running for the door.

Fish-fish by Cherry Potts

Read by Math Jones - full podcast here (fourth story) 

She has a small cloche hat pulled down so tight it’s a wonder she hasn’t ripped the rim. He has his hair plastered to his head so smoothly that Joel half expects beads of Brilliantine in the crease at the back of his neck, but despite this they are immaculate, both wearing some fabric between velvet and moleskin that shimmers and tempts the fingertip to explore its textures.

Joel shows them to a booth at the back of the room, with a mirror behind them, which will allow him to keep an eye on them without quite staring. He cannot fathom what it is that draws him. They could be sister and brother they look so alike, round-eyed, broad-cheeked, flat-nosed; his wonderful whiskers the only feature that truly distinguishes them one from the other, but the way they behave with each other is not sibling-like. She gazes and gazes, her round eyes drinking him in with something like awe, and he caresses her with his glance. It is barely decent.