Author: ireneallison12

All Stories, Editor Picks, General Fiction, Short Fiction

374- Dear Daisy, The Week That Still Is, And Nine New Ways To Avoid Heaven

ireneallison12

Dear Daisy

Greetings!

Leila caught a cold while composing this weekly update and claimed that she was only worth “two-thirds of my usual genius” (a statement which proves that the common cold has no ill effects on the ego). Instead of calling out sick and thrusting her duty on her fellow Editors, she asked that I, Daisy Cloverleaf, write the introduction to this week’s wrap and that she would handle the middle and end. Which is precisely what has happened.

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Short Fiction

Literally Reruns – Bike Killer by Doug Hawley

ireneallison12

Maybe it says plenty about our race that we often find ourselves in the corner of the Bad Guy. And in the case of this story, the “victim” isn’t always a beloved member of society. In fact there are some amongst us who dislike cyclists and spandex and their blatant disregard for traffic rules and pedestrians. Not all, nor a majority of cyclists are pushy, passive aggressive sociopaths, but enough are to be annoying. You will find that circumstance at the heart of Dough Hawley’s Bike Killer. And when you read it, please take a look at the almost as entertaining string of comments below it.

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All Stories, Editor Picks, Fantasy, Short Fiction

Week 372: Family Circus of the Damned, Five Points of Light and Making Sad Amends

ireneallison12

The Nobel Prize For Being a Corporate Tool Goes To…

Almost everything we read online is either a blatant lie or plain wrong. (Forget the “fake news” euphemism–for a kiss is but a kiss and a con is but a con.) For instance, I recall intelligent sources telling me that we use something like ten percent of our brains, and the rest may as well be cornbread stuffing until enough evolution goes by. Although this “fact” (like countless others) is certainly nonsense, someone smart started that misconception, which I bet more people believe than do not.

I’ve finally reached the point where I no longer blindly accept “facts” minus proof. I probably would be better off if I had arrived at this point sooner, but, maybe, “better late than never” is, at times, a valid sentiment–though still not much use in situations when the pardon arrives after the gallows has dropped.

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Literally Reruns, Short Fiction

Literally Reruns – Peculiar Folk by Frederick K Foote

ireneallison12

If I was better educated–or at least paid closer attention during what education I received–I’d know all the words the professors use to describe and sometimes drain the blood out of the written word. I am certain that there are fancy definitions for what goes on in Frederick K. Foote’s Peculiar Folk, but, really, in the end, no matter what something may be in the scientific sense, does it walk when you read it is still the most important thing of all.

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General Fiction, Short Fiction

Good News Club by Leila Allison

ireneallison12

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Mom was a world class liar. Once in a lifetime. She believed that a solid lie should have few moving parts; this theory allowed her to capitalize on the specious notion that true-sounding things are brief. Mainly, Mom got her whoppers over with a confident attitude,brevity and something in her eyes that told you not to fuck with it further.

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Literally Reruns, Short Fiction

Literally Reruns – Pooboogle by Adam Kluger

ireneallison12

Adam Kluger’s Pooboogle is a first class example of the ray of light finding a down and outer kind of story. A form probably first thought up by one of the girls on the Ark. Yet Adam has not only updated the shape to fit the times, he still manages to find something new to say. I can’t locate specific examples (maybe the six fingered guy) as much as I got a refreshing vibe from the story. Maybe it is because of all the sour tales out there which attempt relevance by conveying steady rain and suicidal tendencies.

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Short Fiction

Week 370: A Mass Extinction, Four Moral Authors and Nine Reasons Why I Will Not Go To Heaven

ireneallison12

There once was a race of authors who had achieved a level of celebrity similar to that of movie stars. Even people who didn’t read knew these authors by sight. They became the “must gets” for the swankiest dinner parties and were topics of discussion at all lesser gatherings. Then it ended. Just like that. Inexplicably. Alas, few authors turn heads in the wild anymore. Stephen King might–then again his face is hard to forget.

The mysterious mass extinction of celebrity authors is a phenomenon that only I have noticed or care about. Which means I am either a trailblazer or just another deluded soul, a couple of moments of clarity shy of the asylum.

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All Stories, Fantasy, Short Fiction

Roscoe and the Lightning Glory: A Feeble Fable of the Fantasmagorical

ireneallison12

Roscoe was a three-year-old Dachshund who had a problem: his “Associate Human” (A.H.)–though in most other ways acceptable–had a thing for dressing poor Roscoe in ridiculous costumes and posting the result on her YouTube channel. Dachshunds are uncommonly dignified, and things like being forced into wearing a “Frankfurter” outfit for the sole purpose of the A.H. gaining likes and subscriptions hurt Roscoe’s pride.

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Literally Reruns, Short Fiction

Literally Reruns – Nose by Doug Hawley

ireneallison12

When you put out a shingle that says STORIES WANTED, you get a little bit of the good stuff and plenty of what you deserve for your impertinence. The “plenty of what you deserve” element is easy to describe: In some way something about each one in it sucks. That’s as scientific a way of putting it as I can give you. But the good stuff is hard to define; and sadly, some of the good stuff meets the same fate as the suck stuff for one reason or another. Actually, most of what we reject is well done, just the story is in some way incomplete, in our humble estimation.

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