Upright Beasts

<p>Praise for Lincoln Michel:</p><p>&quot;Lincoln Michel is one of contemporary literary culture's greatest natural resources.&quot; - Justin Taylor, <i>Vice </i></p><p><i>Time passes unexpectedly or, perhaps, inexactly at the school. It's hard to remember what semester we are supposed to be in. Several of the clocks still operate, but they don't show the same time. The red bells, affixed in every room, erupt several times each day, yet the intervals between the disruptions wax and wane with an unknown algorithm. The windows are obscured by construction paper murals. Consequently, the sun rises and falls in complete ignorance of those of us attending the school. Many of us participated in the decorations in some lost point of childhood. A few of us still have dried glue under our fingernails. </i></p><p><i>In the room I sit in now, the windows are covered with a glitter and glue reenactment of the colonization of Roanoke by Sir Walter Raleigh. Outside of the window, who knows?</i></p><p>Children go to school long after all the teachers have disappeared, a man manages an apartment complex of attempted suicides, and a couple navigates their relationship in the midst of a zombie attack. In these short stories, we are the upright beasts, doing battle with our darker, weirder impulses as the world collapses around us.</p><p><b>Lincoln Michel</b>'s work has appeared in <i>BOMB</i>, <i>Oxford American</i>, <i>Tin House</i>, the <i>Believer</i>, the <i>Paris Review Daily</i>, and elsewhere. A founding editor of the literary magazine <i>Gigantic</i>, Michel also serves as an online editor for <i>Electric Literature</i>.</p>