Posts Tagged "nir yaniv"


by on Aug 7, 2012 in Short Fiction | 1 comment

By Nir Yaniv That day, the complacent city received three warnings. No one bothered to take notice. The city listened only to itself. *** At the seashore, just before sunrise, a teenage girl met an old man. A westerly wind played with the water and with a grey beard and with some golden curls. On the promenade, a street sweeper passed, unnoticed. “Child,” the old man said, his hand reaching for his worn cap, which was slightly smaller than the measure of his head. Surprisingly, this did not make him look ridiculous, only slightly older. The girl looked at him, dazzled, as if she’d opened her eyes for the first time in her life, and did not answer. “Child,” the old man...

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Benjamin Schneider’s Little Greys

by on Nov 2, 2009 in Short Fiction | 0 comments

By Nir Yaniv Translated from Hebrew by Lavie Tidhar This story is part of a special issue of Apex Magazine guest edited by Lavie Tidhar featuring international writers in support of his anthology The Apex Book of World SF. When Benjamin Schneider came to my clinic and complained of mysterious coils on his left wrist, I wasn’t overly surprised. The term “hypochondriac” may have become overused years ago, but Benjamin nevertheless lived and acted as its perfect archetype. He had been that way ever since he was a child. I remember the first time he came to me, when I was still a minor family GP at the National Health clinic in town. He was about fourteen, short for his...

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