iExile — Literature that doesn’t behave
Novel · Satire
Bulă, or How We Invented Quantum
Jaia PapitzA literary satire about laughter, bureaucracy, and the small cosmic errors that keep reality from sealing itself shut.
The Ref
Donny Lewis awakes each morning and mutters a disappointed “Oh, man!” first thing because he’s still alive. Says it before his morning prayers. Maybe it is a prayer. Maybe “man” is The Man. “Won’t be long,” Donny consoles himself, as he drags his body out of bed, pushing his carcass into a sitting position and lifting his legs over the side and onto the floor. He pauses before standing with a grunt and balances himself to avoid falling back into bed. He stretches as much as he can, groans. “Stupid,” he says about the shenanigans of his early years that produced such a wreck: the broken bones, concussions, slashes, near-death experiences. Over what? Had he not realized that he’d eventually pay a price? He probably thought — if he gave it any thought — that he’d die before the bill came due. He thought that he’d be talking to the…
- There are daysThere are days when the street is the most spiritless place on earth.
You leave the house and, though people don't let you pass, though - Texan ThunderstormI moan of the subtle pain,
hidden under my spine - The Shawl SellerRizwan smelled a heavy stench of someone else’s fear on his eyelids. At first, it was only the truck groani...
The Reading Nooks
UnAlphabetless
A recovered text from the first iExile body — returned to circulation, not as nostalgia, but because it still burns.
Dispatches, books, and texts the archive refused to lose.
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