Thank You For Your Sperm" (MadHat Press, 2013) is Marcus Speh's debut collection of short fiction with 80 stories and an interview with the author. — Order the book now via Amazon.com.

Here is a dream for you: I’m climbing over the roof of a mansion. Oddly enough only parts of it are restored and other parts look lost and rotten. I feel bad for the house and I can’t imagine why someone would fix up one gable but not the one next to it. These gables are very elaborate: a bell shaped copper cover has been placed over each of the upper windows. It looks as if the windows are wearing helmets. But I’m not here to admire the mansion. I’m here to spy upon an attic that I have discovered: a man lives here, a very shy man whom nobody ever sees. When I come to the door of his attic, I’m amazed and impressed by the interior: everything is carved in Cherrywood, and I’m feasting my eyes on the fine detail while at the same time I can’t cross the threshold. I’m staying outside of the room looking inside. Suddenly, a light goes on in the middle of the room and I realize that I have lit a candle by blowing on it. All the time I am afraid the owner might come back …

[continue reading “Cherrywood Shingles”]

Posted at 10:17pm.

Here is a dream for you: I’m climbing over the roof of a mansion. Oddly enough only parts of it are restored and other parts look lost and rotten. I feel bad for the house and I can’t imagine why someone would fix up one gable but not the one next to it. These gables are very elaborate: a bell shaped copper cover has been placed over each of the upper windows. It looks as if the windows are wearing helmets. But I’m not here to admire the mansion. I’m here to spy upon an attic that I have discovered: a man lives here, a very shy man whom nobody ever sees. When I come to the door of his attic, I’m amazed and impressed by the interior: everything is carved in Cherrywood, and I’m feasting my eyes on the fine detail while at the same time I can’t cross the threshold. I’m staying outside of the room looking inside. Suddenly, a light goes on in the middle of the room and I realize that I have lit a candle by blowing on it. All the time I am afraid the owner might come back … 
[continue reading “Cherrywood Shingles”]
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Notes: