All Stories, Literally Reruns, Writing

Literally Reruns – Post by Jenny Morton Potts

And now – we are pleased to introduce our reruns – as chosen by you. We are thrilled to have this story suggested by David Henson, a stalwart of the site, as our first Rerun.

If you have a story that you really believe needs to be brought out, dusted off and given another airing, write a little introduction, send us an email and we’ll do the rest.

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All Stories, Latest News, Writing

Week 193 – A Mad-Shagger, The Legend Sam Torrance And Hoping For Lubrication.

Hello there folks, here we are at Week 193.

I am glad to report that the site has never been healthier. We are getting a very steady stream of stories and it is a pleasure reading them all.


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All Stories, Short Fiction

A Killer Mistake by Amber Aspinall

I was walking past his car when he decided to kill me.

I was supposed to be setting up the shop front display, he was supposed to be picking his son up from school. My friend covered for me, so I could have a cigarette – it had been seven hours, for god’s sake. As the impact hit my left side, I almost felt the need to scrabble to pick the fag back up.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Dark Return by Tom Sheehan

Wonder had him in its grip and worked him over, tossing him into past years as clean as a pistol shot. More than half a century flipped through his movie mind, stopping whenever he wanted, at whatever spot and breaking loose the sounds, the smells, the fingers touching, the skin knowing again, rocking him with total recall. He saw again the older woman who paraded nude behind a window, who finally beckoned when he was on the way to school one day, calling him on to manhood, and to silence and war, and to the eternal draw.

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All Stories, Horror

Bone Girl and The Snake — An Infected Love Story by David Henson

I come in and find Evie, wearing only a thong, standing on the kitchen table, bowing. I lean my guitar against the wall and admire my girl. I never get tired of her skeleton. The tat stretches from her forehead to the tips of her toes. Front, back and sides. She’s a masterpiece although sometimes I wish the skull didn’t hide her beautiful face.

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All Stories, Fantasy, Horror, Short Fiction

Apartmeet by Kilmeny MacMichael

The bride brought only a small bundle from home. Wrapped in a deep blue silk, she carried medicines and a small bone whistle. The bride was from a family of witches fallen from grace in a time of altered belief. Her home was an island dripping warm green forest into a wide magic river.

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All Stories, General Fiction

West 86th Street Time Machine by Patrick M. Butler

Two days ago there were still those who went about saying that Peter was a false Tsar, perhaps the Anti-Christ himself.  But then, just as the hour of three was being struck, two long, thin clouds joined in the form of a cross above our village.  It was a Friday according to the new reckoning.  Marina, the serf girl, was the first to see it.  She fell to her knees and crossed herself, then ran to tell the priest, my father.  If he was drunk, as usual, he was nevertheless quick to realize how he could use this “sign”.  Were the rumblings of those who opposed the Tsar to go unchecked, the soldiers would soon be set upon our village to leave behind the smoldering remains of peasant huts and bodies swaying from scaffolds.  So I was ordered to toll the bell which summons the peasants to the village square where my father put them on their knees in witness to this miracle.  Such a voice he had!

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All Stories, Latest News, Writing

Week 192 – Nik’s Fear, Bikini And His Protruding Jut.

Here we are at Week 192.

We have decided to try something new starting next week. There’s a chance for you to tick off a social / literal must from all of your bucket lists and have even more involvement on the site.
Continue reading “Week 192 – Nik’s Fear, Bikini And His Protruding Jut.”

All Stories, General Fiction

Tempest by Frederick K Foote

It is horrendous out here! like God’s troubling the waters. I’m by my lonesome in my eight-foot Jon boat with my ancient, three-horsepower motor. I don’t have time to worry before the storm’s crushing me. I have handled rough water on this lake before with the same setup. At worst I would just pull ashore anywhere I could and seek shelter until the storm passed. But not this time. The storm erupts so suddenly, the clouds overwhelm the sky so quickly and pervasively that my visibility drops from twenty miles to about three hundred feet – like God switched off the lights.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Fries and Coffee by John Brantingham

I found Ginny at the diner with her face square against the linoleum of the table. I thought she might be crying to herself, and I thought that tears were maybe a good thing. The waitress, Joyce by her name tag, asked, “Is she yours?”

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