Category Archives: Literary Magazine

The Sound of Clickbait

The Sound Of Clickbait

Do you remember what the internet used to say?


*Bip bip bip bip bip bip bip*

Now it’s all grown up, and it speaks our language.


So we noticed you liked a satirical page about God.

Would you be interested in the Alpha course? (It’s free!)

Taylor Swift said something and you should be angry.

By the way, your step-brother just went for a three mile run.

When was the last time you did that?


You have been headhunted. Yes, you.

We’re offering you a job.

We can’t tell you what it is yet,

But we’re looking for passionate self-starters.


Are you one of those millennials who are killing everything?

Did you know about the link between dairy products and autism, abortion and breast cancer, The European Union and the Antichrist?

No? Well, it’s not your fault you’re a product of government schooling.

I have a list of twenty things that are bad for your family, are you doing them? Thought so.

No need to thank me, I’m just naturally caring.


What’s the name of that book? The one with the blue cover. Someone must know it.

Look, someone’s kid did something funny – well, did something.

Have you bought a salt lamp yet?

Here are ten reasons to replace your bed with a Japanese futon.

And here’s why we’re all spending too much time on Facebook.

^^^^^ 15,000 people like this


Wake up!

Six-foot lizards invented feminism, educate yourself!

Are you sure you want to log out?

That hurts us. Don’t leave.

See, here’s a picture of a crying cartoon dolphin.

That’s what you did, and don’t you forget it.



And exhale.

The transfer was complete.

Another body, another land. Anywhere but home.

Now began the hard part – suppressing the mind and dominating the body I had borrowed.

Groggy and disorientated, I finally waded out of the storm of transference and felt able to take control. Electric tendrils of consciousness spread throughout; it was mine. I would win the mental battle, like every time before. It wasn’t even a challenge now, I’d lost count of how many minds had shattered, retreating into the recesses of their own bodies. Bittersweet; my own, a burnt cripple only able to shit itself, lay comatose wasting away wherever. Not that I cared. I want to live.

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