All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Billy by Hugh Cron



Billy was upset that no-one spoke to him.

“Hi Billy, how’s your mum?”

“She’s fine, fine, she’s fine.”

“And how about you? Are you behaving yourself?”

“Yes. I’m doing fine, I’m fine, fine, I’m fine.”

“Tell your mum I was asking for her.”

“Yes, yes, yes. I’ll tell her, yes.”

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All Stories, General Fiction

The SeeMe Crisis by David Henson


December 24. It began today. At the grocery store, I saw a man whose hands had disappeared seem to levitate a cantaloupe into his cart. Looked through a woman’s head in the bread aisle. Haven’t run out of SeeMe myself, so no invisibility infection yet. Going to write in my journal every day. Think it’ll help get me through this.

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All Stories, Horror

Sus Scrofa by Frederick K Foote

typewriter“I do not like Indiana. I do not like the weather or the politics or the terrain. Listen, Bubbles, when your Mom comes home we’re going to have a family council. All three of us and the only item on the agenda is, should we get the hell out of Indiana ASAP. Are you with me? Can I count on your vote? Alright! I knew you had my back.”

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Wild Yeasts! by Dave Barrett

typewriterJack Posner, licensed clinical psychologist, PhD. from Berkeley, serviced corporate lawyers and stock and bond traders from his private plant-filled smoke-free office on the fourth floor of the Paulsen Building downtown.  He consoled guilty consciences with a phrase he muttered under his breath for his own benefit as well as his clientele’s: EVERYTHING’S O.K., GO BACK TO WORK, over and over, like a Vedic hymn, until even he was fooled by it.

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All Stories, Latest News, Writing

Week 92 – Age, Health And Hardening Toenails

typewriterAnother week over and another one begins. Welcome to our round-up of Week 92.

As I sat down to write this I had no idea what I was going to say. I decided to have a look back at some of the Saturday Postings to see if I had an opening that I hadn’t explored. As I tried to get myself comfy I realised that there is more of me hurts than doesn’t. Between that and looking back to something, that not long ago, I would have remembered, made me think on getting older.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Meeting Max Cargo by Tom Sheehan


It all began perhaps eight or nine years earlier, in a peaceful sleep, when a thin, shoelace-like string of pressure went around his chest for the third time in a week. Sixty-two year old Max Cargo paid attention to that string. It was three o’clock in the morning and his wife Pamela stirred casually at his touch. In less than an hour they were in the Emergency Room of the local hospital.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Are We Both Broken by Adam Kluger

“We try to be flexible here at Literally Stories and when we have authors who send work outside our word count guidelines we are still willing to give them a fair shot. To get through in that case they have to be a bit different and stand out in some way. Adam sent us this and we were all really taken by it. It is way below our normal lower limit but being Adam he also sent in some art work to bring the thing even more to life. So, for one night only at a website near you we are proud to present Words and Images by Adam Kluger in “Are we Both Broken.”

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All Stories, Science Fiction

The ASKii Of Aikido On The Planet Sellinger-Shapiro by Rabbi Steven Lebow



On the planet Sellinger-Shapiro, in the country of Marr and Etta, near the banks of the River Hoochee, Haud Nomen- the handsome long-haired boy- grew up with his best friend, the common citizen, Sisellia.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Extended Meeting by Gary Beck


The benches in the New York City Clerk’s office were hard and uncomfortable. The wood was worn and shiny from nervous and impatient squirmings. The room was dim and shabby, wearied from processions of the city poor, eager to pay the few dollars for the privilege of marriage, or not eager, but complying with demanding families, resenting the notices of do’s and dont’s, murmuring to the indifferent walls. And behind barred windows, clerks in funereal voices, never calling names fast enough to spare the nervous couples the glances of others. The eyes that have seen it all before; waiting, birth, death, the history of in-betweens, waiting.

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