The pain had made it’s home in the crevice between cheek and gum. It scrapes away at the soft flesh, burrowing. Nestling.
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Month: February 2022
Legs Eleven by Hugh Cron
She smiled as she heard his wail. He’d always been delicate and wasn’t as mature as the other kids.
…But she knew that would change soon.
He ran into the room with his fist clenched out in front of him.
“Now then Jimmy, don’t cry. It’s only a bit of blood.
…And it’s worth it.”
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In the Right Spirit? by Nidhi Srivastava Asthana
It was a very steep slope. Even the hunters felt unsure of their steps. The thick creepers and grasses made every tread a threat since there was no way of knowing what the escapees were disturbing on the untrodden path. The deerstalkers amongst them could have been expected to feel less unsettled, but it felt strange for them to be carrying babies or half-carrying the elderly. Noi insisted on clinging to Sai. In the Asia of so long ago, much before any contact with Westerners or Christianity, ‘till death do us part’ was her own inborn resolve. Sai had no choice.
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Dead Together by Oliver Lavery
Ned the Necromancer and his otherworldly friends live in splendid isolation in the derelict Mortlake House. Unfortunately, they need a new tenant to pay the bills.
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Fulfillment by David Lohrey – Warning – Adult content.
At the corner of Wisteria and Hope lives a snotty little shit named Miss Hola Americana Chic. She’s a he. She wears a velvet garter. Hola wears penny loafers with a silver dollar. She has three titties and speaks Esperanto, but she’s Greek. She’s a delegate to the UN. She’s afraid to fly. She travels by boat. She spends her weekends boar hunting. When she goes hunting, she takes an entourage of three Irish setters and a black body guard. He’s a she. He speaks Swahili and is an alcoholic.
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Literally Reruns – Ray’s Vision by Adam West
I hopped into the Wayback machine and located this piece by one of Literally Stories founding Editors, Adam West. It is a keen look at the Cult of Personality and the usage of women somehow justified by a higher power of the user’s invention.
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Week 363 – Personnel Empathy, Twenty Five For Dave Henson And Fifty For Mr Jackson.
Here we go again, another week has been and gone. I’ll be delighted to see this posting on the site as that means that I’ll be off for a week after finishing this morning.
These days off were one of those holidays that were more of a use-up than something that was planned and what is so good about them was I thought I wasn’t off for another week.
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A Currency of Serpents by David Henson
Five minutes, twenty-nine seconds for milk, bread and a few other items? Ridiculous. The clerk transfers the time from my corporate God Assurance card to the store’s account. “Here you are, Mr. Spencer.” He gives me a rattler.
I pass the diamondback between my hands a few times then raise it to eye level to complete the required time. As I give the snake back to the clerk, I hear a woman in the next booth gasp.
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I Will Gift My Dragon by LC Gutierrez
Other people’s dragons? Maybe you find your rooftop scorched and have to change your weekend plans. But when you say “MY dragon”, that’s a different story. My world was all fucked and I could no longer ignore it. Two choices: 1- Keep stumbling along, half-assing a mediocre existence, or 2 – Take control.
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Deep Inside Woodwards by Harrison Kim
Too sunny on the belt buckles, blinding my brown eyes. Hooking them down to the sidewalk, I take control of my hazy head, walking quick with the crowds, watching for loose wallets. I’m skinny, so I slip between pants. It’s a familiar circuit on rainy days too, under the umbrellas and inside the handbags. Hey! There’s the known mullet cut! Yes, over by the plate glass doors. That’s Ed up there, jostling just up the Hastings sidewalk, debating with Miss Jehovah Witness, holding her pamphlets.
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