Sale! "Riding Atlas," To Three-Lobed Burning Eye

Around Day Four of the Viable Paradise workshop, I was told that there was some debate about me… or rather, one of my stories.  People who’d read my tale “Riding Atlas” claimed it was easily the creepiest thing being critiqued.  But people who’d read George Galuschak’s tale “Middle Aged Weirdo In A Cadillac” claimed no, George’s is fucked up, there can’t be anything nearly as bad as that.
So, in these face-offs, people were forced to read both of our tales.  (I think George won – though you can view his for yourself, as his got published shortly afterwards in Strange Horizons.) And lo, it was agreed that we were both pretty goddamned creepy dudes.
“Riding Atlas,” however, was an odd tale – some of my teachers at the workshop claimed it wasn’t even a story.  Which has an element of truth; “Riding Atlas” is more about an experience, and I worried it’d never find a good home, because it’s just so oddball.  Fortunately, Three-Lobed Burning Eye (which had previously published my hero-of-a-failed-prophecy flash fiction piece “Dead Prophecies“) specializes in oddball stories, and will be publishing my bizarre blood-sharing story.
Want a taste?

They were naked, now, on a dirty mattress.
“Neither of you have eaten or drunk anything for twenty-four hours?” Ryan asked, hauling equipment into the room: sloshing plastic buckets, packs of hypodermic needles, coils of tubing, straps.  “And no drugs in your system?  This is a pure trip.  Just two bloods commingling.  Any impurities stop Atlas from getting inside you.”
Stewart didn’t answer.  He was too distracted by all the naked couples.  The attic’s flooring was covered with bodies, lying belly to swollen belly on bedbug-blackened boxsprings.  Their arms were thrust out above their heads, ears resting on their biceps; they clasped hands like lovers, their circulatory systems knitted into a single bloodstream…

I’ll letcha know when it goes up, of course, but today I’m happy.