Author: literallystories2014

All Stories, General Fiction

The Broken Piece of Me by Doyin Ajayi

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Adult Content

For Ann

That sound, sharp.

It slices through the air like a whip. It jolts me awake. I haven’t gotten used to it. The harmattan wind blows through the open windows. I rub my shoulders and try to warm my body up.  The huge searchlight in the yard casts a shadow of the cashew tree on the walls. The branches spook me. They’re wraiths reaching for me, their pointed tips looking like spears aimed at me, reaching for my soul. A woman’s scream. Sergeant Wasiu’s gun cocks again. He’s the chief of the guards – a cruel man with gallows humour. The creeping feeling rises up in me again. The night’s quietness is eerie. The woman’s screams are louder now, they’re bloodcurdling.

The gun roars. Her screams stop abruptly.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Retrieving Johanna by Evelyn Wall

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Gayle drove for two days expecting sirens before changing cars. She missed riding high in the brute rev of David’s truck, but the Corolla was less noticeable. The interior was damp and cloyingly chemical like its former owner with a spine like a question mark. But the keys had plucked easy from his pocket, not pulling a thread.

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All Stories, sunday whatever

The Shakespeareance of a Lifetime (Or Two) by Geraint Jonathan

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There’s a quality peculiarly magnificent to certain enthusiasts, particularly those whose enthusiasm tipped over into outright crankery, or what was perceived to be such. It depends, I suppose, on what it is has gripped the enthusiast’s imagination; a person’s overriding obsession with, say, the history of mirrors may induce a groan or a shake of the head in those utterly uninterested in the history of mirrors;  similarly, an obsession with Shakespeare will send to sleep persons not given to worrying about Shakespeare. And Shakespeare, of all writers, has worried the minds of many. In the words of scholar Ivor Brown, “Shakespeare stands alone in his spawning of cranks and bores as well as of erudite scholars and devotees of genius.”  To which one might add a note of gratitude on considering the former. Certainly the byways of Shakespeare-lore would be marginally the poorer without its tales of the grandiose and/or driven amateur.

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Short Fiction

Kenny Drummond’s Parchment by Michael Bloor

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James IV, king of Scotland from 1488 to 1513, was a Renaissance Man. He was fluent in Spanish, French, Italian, Latin, Flemish and Gaelic. He ordered the construction of The Great Hall in Stirling Castle, arguably the first renaissance building in Britain. He issued the first ever compulsory Education Act (albeit only for the first-born sons of landowners). He introduced the first printing press to Scotland. And, like some other monarchs of the day, he appointed a court alchemist, one Father John Damian.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Helicopter by Marco Etheridge

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I am cursed with my very own personal psyops helicopter, a flying machine that takes me anywhere it wants to go, no matter how much I beg it to leave me be. Matte black, of course, updated constantly—the latest sensors, time travel, you name it. Highly sensitive to excruciating shame, humiliation, and social embarrassment. Fully automated, sentient, and merciless.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Seven Flowers for Lemonade by Daniel P. Douglas

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The Lemonade Stand materialized at the corner of Maple and Third like a memory made solid, and Cliff felt his foot ease off the accelerator. Through the windshield of his sedan, the sight struck him, not of this stand with its crooked cardboard sign and red plastic cups, but of something older and as familiar as his own reflection and twice as strange.

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All Stories, General Fiction

God’s Creatures by Jennifer Sinclair Roberts

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(Content that some readers may find upsetting – refer to the tags at the bottom of the page)

“Shut up the shutters, boy, and light up the pit.”

No more words were needed. The crowd in the parlour of the King’s Head heaved and jostled. Dogs were untied from table legs as their owners rushed towards a shabby staircase leading to a room below. Jimmy Brown, the proprietor, held his hand out for shillings as the cacophonous queue pushed past.

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All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction

One for the Road by Neil James

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Dean cradles the pint glass like it’s the only thing holding him together. I don’t know how he survived losing Sophie and the baby in the same night, but eight months later he’s made it to The Lantern on Christmas Eve.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Seeing Jerry by Susan R. Weinstein

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When Drea’s mother called to ask if she could take her to see Jerry, Drea clenched her fists without realizing it and dropped the phone.

“What happened?” Drea’s mother asked.

“Nothing,” Drea said loudly as she squatted to pick up the phone. She sat down hard on the floor and tried to breathe slowly, in for four and out for six, as her therapist had suggested she do when triggered.

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