Category: AUTHENTIC FICTIONS

AUTHENTIC FICTIONS, VINTAGE AUGUSTINIANALeave a comment

THE SECOND GUEST: A FREUDIAN GHOST STORY (unfinished shooting script)

Steven Augustine

  In 2002 I sold an option on a screenplay, to a Berlin film production company, for a record amount (for that company) and began writing more scripts. Unfortunately, Kirch Gruppe, the company that was providing quite a bit of the money for film production in Germany, at the time, folded as an indirect result of “9/11”, putting an end to my screenplay-writing adventures (here’s another Script from 2002, this one completed)… which included a few months of being a script doctor for various private parties (all of them professional men older than forty and not naturally creative) with an uncannily … Continue reading THE SECOND GUEST: A FREUDIAN GHOST STORY (unfinished shooting script)

AUTHENTIC FICTIONS, PHILOSOPHICAL MINUTE, THE SHORTS, the teleological null-point6 Comments

ouroboros borborygmus: a short story

Steven Augustine

  1. Stock was just beginning to dwell on the fact that he’d been sitting alone in the waiting room for an improbably long while when something happened. The door to the waiting room opened and Stock walked in and grabbed an old magazine and took a seat. Stock stared at himself. It wasn’t exactly Stock but Stock at a much younger age, maybe twenty, stylish but poor. He looked relaxed and very healthy. He was sun-burnished and the smell of his health crossed the room. Stock wondered if this was his grown son. A mesmerizingly-pure and beautiful version of his … Continue reading ouroboros borborygmus: a short story

AUTHENTIC FICTIONS, BITTER LAUGHSLeave a comment

GENTLY FLEW THE FLAG: a short story

Steven Augustine

The sex with S. was good, if not as good as it had been when she was 18. She was only as yet 22 but some profound inner shift had re-structured the mesh of all her intangible parts. Those inner-gears like interlocking cypher-cogs spelling out so many junk novellas in the fullness of time. It’s funny how The Cynic now thinks of rational thinking as a deeply sexy and even romantic thing. When S. was 18, she was clear-eyed and rational and so avid with her warm skin glowing; her easy mainstream health. Something in the sham metaphysics later (the duped hunger for infinite power) had turned her cold and tired and self-enshrining. Continue reading GENTLY FLEW THE FLAG: a short story