Víťo Staviarsky, Balla, Uršuľa Kovalyk, Michal Hvorecký and Pavel Vilikovský.

Slovak Fiction Week: Into the Spotlight

    Into the Spotlight An anthology of Slovak fiction Translated from the Slovak by Magdalena Mullek and Julia Sherwood Published...
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Ondrej

Ondrej Stefanik

I’m on display here, you fool. I’m wearing my best dress, simple, posh, fresh like fresh fruit, flammable, cling-wrapped to protect it from vagrants, cool like a crouching leopard with taut muscles. And the first words you shoot at me are Hi, Paula, feeling better now?

Mitana

Dusan Mitana

In that steam bath, where everyone was soaked to the skin, our completely dry hands touched. My mouth had also dried up from excitement, and I was sure hers had too.

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Lukas Luk

I’d like to draw a parallel between the nascent Kingdom of Hungary and the passionate lovemaking of frenzied young lovers.

Photo by Jana Lišaníková

Juraj Bindzar

The Benkóczi women went on sipping their soup in silence. Then when the older of the two had finished eating, she glared at the servant girl, wiped her nose on the tablecloth, swore something in Hungarian under her breath and clambered up heavily from her chair.

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Jan Rozner

What he couldn’t afford to do was attend his wife’s funeral where quite a few people might see him. He could not go to his wife’s funeral one day and phone Highly Placed the next. That might ruin everything.

JJ2

Jana Juranova

Eventually she got over the pain of having been left behind. After all, so much else had happened to remove the slight shadow this had cast over their relationship, a shadow he was never even aware of. And what use would it have been to dwell on that shadow?

Ondrej

Ondrej Stefanik

Yuck. What an awful sound. I’m dead. Jesus, I’m seriously dead. It can’t be true! I’m going to die on the toilet. No one dies on the toilet. Not that.

Ondrej

Ondrej Stefanik

“I’m serious, man. Please. I need arms,” the snowman interrupts us. “Where am I supposed to get you arms?” I’m getting irritated. I’m starting to get really cold. “How about the morgue,” the snowman suggests. “Are you crazy?” “I don’t have much time left. I’ll melt soon. Couldn’t you do this for me? Run to the morgue and get me some arms. Dead people don’t need arms.

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