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THE PROCEDURE (2025): A novella by Aleksandr Beaudoin
SYNOPSIS: In a futuristic Los Angeles, a couple await a crucial moment that will change their lives forever, ultimately forcing them to inquire: who is the familiar stranger beside me?
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[Click the cover image below to open a PDF of the complete novella].
Sample:
As she sat alone on her temperature-regulating pool chair, thinking on the point in history she had been born into, Alessa recalled watching old Blade Runner movies with Cassian. They had watched all six, starting with the 1982 original, up through the most modern adaptation. Cassian found pleasure in investigating the societal context surrounding his favorite films – imagining what events may have lead to the life on screen. While they weren’t Alessa’s preferred genre, she could still find partial interest in witnessing how past generations had envisioned the life she and Cassian now lived…
MILES (2023): A short story by Aleksandr Beaudoin
SYNOPSIS: Terry spends her days herding kids to school as the local town bus driver. Terry knows the roads and the routine and the rascals aboard her vehicle. Terry lives in repetition in her regular town. Until one day, it becomes less than regular, and Terry is forced to question: is this a blessing or a curse?
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[Click the cover image below to open a PDF of the complete short story].
Sample:
Terry was a bus driver in a small town. She never learned how to describe its location to outsiders, because she had never needed to. She had never been on the outside. Terry had never left, or at least never ventured far enough where others wouldn’t instantly recognize the town’s name. For Terry, her small country town didn’t exist in relation to anything else, only itself. It was the center of her microscopic universe. It was her entire universe.
A, B, C, D; 1, 2, 3 (COMING 2026): A novel by Aleksandr Beaudoin
SYNOPSIS: To come
SAMPLE:
348: amount of months he had been present on earth. As of 09:33 that morning, EST.
234: average number of steps from the subway station to his apartment.
105: songs he had listened to at work that morning.
8: subway stops to get from “the office” to his home.
7: hours he had worked before completing his shift.
2: roommates. It’s a Saturday. They would probably be home.
One by one, he counts objects, spaces, time in his head – the object currently resting motionless between his shoulders. He stares straight ahead at the degraded, beige walls of Jay St. Metrotech Station. His eyes are no longer disgusted by how grimy the tiles are. They only attempt to remain open, but his eyelids are heavy. He closes them, only for a second. Two minutes later, they shoot open as the subway barrels past. Eventually, the train comes to a screeching halt. The two doors before him aggressively tear open. They bounce. He enters and finds a seat to collapse into. The metal vehicle around him mechanically operates as it does at every station. The incomprehensible, static voice of the MTA announcer crawls it’s way out of the speakers. Useless.