HeyJaredMediterranean Gothic – Ausiàs Tsel
Mediterranean Gothic. Dark fiction from the Valencian Country in two languages. The horror that happens at noon.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 7
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
- Audience
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 10, 2026
Latest issues
Annual Subscription (opens the original)
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February light in the Maestrat is flat and hard. It shows everything and explains nothing.In La Jana, the saints’ calendar hangs from a nail in the cooperative warehouse. Nobody reads it for the saints. Garlic goes in at the new moon in January. The old men never called this knowledge. They called it January.In 1997, the US Patent Office revoked a patent on turmeric. In 2000, the European Patent Office revoked one on neem. Both times, someone had older paper.<a class="image-link image2 is-viewab
Masking (opens the original)
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The Ermitana (opens the original)
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The train dropped him at Benicarló in the afternoon. The taxi driver talked the whole way to Peníscola about the mestral—how it drove people mad, how it came down the Ebre and didn’t stop until Africa. The fare was twelve euros. He paid fifteen to end the conversation.The apartment was on Carrer del Molí, second floor, two bedrooms he didn’t need. The landlady gave him the keys without questions. November. Off-season. He paid the first month in cash and she did not ask for a name.He left his bag
STILL MOVING (opens the original)
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The smell of damp. Of cement still curing. Of shit and piss.His nose rubs the wall in front of him. His shoulders, the one behind.Breathing fast. Nerves. The oxygen going. His fingertips move over the walls, rough enough to strike a match on.He wants to scream. But his throat is sandpaper, the exhaustion goes all the way down, the midazolam is still in his veins. The shit and the piss are his. He understands that now.A squeal gets through the tinnitus. A hungry rat. Or air moving through his own
The Same Silence (opens the original)
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Over the past months, has been writing a run of essays at The Thinking Silence that keep circling silence, survival, and the architecture underneath the things we agree not to look at. Lately, I don’t have all the time I would like to write, but today she pushed me again in front of the keyboard. Thanks. Her latest, Why Be Good When Evil Prospers?, asks whether goodness survives once you strip away every reward it was quietly promised. It is the sharpest treatment of the question I have read in
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