fiction

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Going North

A short story from Hong Kong, by Jason Y Ng

THIS STORY ORIGINALLY APPEARED IN AS WE SEE IT, AN ANTHOLOGY FROM THE HONG KONG WRITERS CIRCLE

 

William removed the laptop from his carry-on luggage and placed it in a grey plastic bin. In a swift, almost choreographed swing of an arm, he grabbed another one from the stack and in went his keys, loose change and Blackberry. As the 35 year-old architect waited to walk through the metal detector, the Shanghainese woman in front of him set off the alarm with the cell phone in her pocket. William shook his head at the sorry display of inexperience. A few moments later, it was his turn to step through the gantry and there wasn’t a single beep. Of course not, he thought to himself with satisfaction.

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The Metaphor Pusher

In search of a story – fiction by Aaron Fox-Lerner

 

Among the hordes of Indian and Pakistani men pushing for you to buy hashish, hostels and rolexes you hear a voice offering metaphors for cheap. You only realise it after you've stepped out of Chungking Mansions into the dense Hong Kong night air, and by that time the voice has disappeared into the dozens of milling figures, now mobbing some poor Asian tourist dumb enough to stop for them.

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The sexpat (part two)

In search of a happy ending

THIS SHORT STORY ORIGINALLY APPEARED ON ISHAM COOK’S BLOG

 

Back to Fengtai in Beijing. I finally come across a new prospect, a zhongyi clinic, the characters standing for traditional Chinese massage, a type of massage I don’t like. Done over the clothes with rough pinching, pushing and pounding, it has to be the most unsensual massage ever invented.

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The sexpat (part one)

Setting out to visit every massage parlour in China

THIS SHORT STORY ORIGINALLY APPEARED ON ISHAM COOK’S BLOG

 

A red neon sign so far in the distance it could be a firefly. I too am a fly and it pulls me irresistibly toward it, for it is in the shape of a suspected character, and like most shop signs that consist of a single character, it is probably zu, meaning “foot.” While zu might resemble a standing or crouching man, the upper square being his head, the image is in fact thought to have originally depicted a footprint.

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Migrant with the Machine Gun Arm

Ping pong diplomacy – a short story by Aaron Fox-Lerner

THIS STORY ORIGINALLY APPEARED ON CONCRETE FLUX

 

The first time I saw Fang Zheng, he was destroying a park full of old men. One after the other they would step up, and he'd humiliate them all in turn. He didn't play down or patronise them. He never slowed his speed. They'd all watch as he dispatched them as fast as possible, cutting them down with rapid fire arm strokes.

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