An essay by Euphemia Thorniwork, as provided by Judith Field Art by Scarlett O’Hairdye November, 1890 A splash of water in my face brought me round. I opened my eyes and sat up to find myself in the lecture theatre of Huxley College, Oxford, where a mathematics lecture was in progress. Spaulding, my fellow...
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Wing removal from tooth fairies, discoveries of insect history, and Romantic poetry written by automatons. These are but some of the strange tales to be found in this book. Mad Scientist Journal: Spring 2017 collects thirteen tales from the fictional worlds of mad science. For the discerning mad scientist reader, there are also pieces...
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An essay by Sadie Loveday, as provided by Judith Field Art by Errow Collins O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us! (Robert Burns, “To a Louse”) On my 40th birthday, I said to myself, “Sadie, it’s time for life to begin.” Sadie Loveday, spinster of this...
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An essay by Dr Stanley Goodman, as provided by Judith Field Art by Luke Spooner When I was sure all the rats were dead, I showed them to Roger. “Brilliant, Francesca! Brilliant! Takes chemical warfare to a new level. That’s working smarter, not harder.” He grinned. I’m sure he’s got more than thirty two...
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An essay by Euphemia Thorniwork, as provided by Judith Field Art by Ariel Alian Wilson London, November 1888 Two days after Uncle Eric’s funeral, there was another murder in Whitechapel. I am ashamed to admit that I felt relief at the knowledge that he could not have been the Ripper. I had hardly dared...
Read more →An essay by Sam Keegan, as provided by Judith Field Art by Shannon Legler I wheeled my new invention up the garden. It was a metal box about the size of a pillow, with an array of switches, instrument panels, and levers down one side. At the top was an axle attached to a...
Read more →An essay by Rick King, as provided by Judith Field Art by Luke Spooner I woke up, rolled over and collided with something solid. Stretching out a shaking hand, I opened my eyes. I was facing the oak tree in the front garden. Rainwater dripped onto me from the branches. A moment of calm,...
Read more →An essay by Jane Meadows, as provided by Judith Field Art by Justine McGreevy “Jane, that mad woman’s here again,” says Ben, my summer student pharmacist, looking out of the dispensary into the shop. “Keep your voice down!” I hiss, following his gaze. A woman in her mid-thirties stands by the counter. I think she must...
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