Armand Tollbar remembered everything Clara said, on and off the pillow, in the bedroom and out of it. These days that had become a tough assignment for him, for while the memories were rich and repetitive, he now knew, deep down in his body, without a paucity of doubt, that the river was getting polluted. For the two of them there had always been a minor division: she loved the house, he loved the river.
Continue reading “Flesh of An Unwanted Fish by Tom Sheehan “
Clint Cherbouger was not an ornithologist. He liked birds for the most part. Mostly ducks. Pigeons were kind of gross and there were too many of them.
We thought we had mice in the catacombs of LS Towers but no – no need for the cheese and cats – it was Leila on her quest for gems. Here is another one that she has rootled out: Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Where Cherubs Sleep by D M Gillis”
My grandfather Johnny Igoe was a little Irish man. He stood a mere 5’ 6” but was a giant to me when his poetic voice rolled across the lamp-lit porch floor. He always wore a felt hat, a white beard, and often a pair of bicycle clips on his pant legs in the later years so he wouldn’t trip himself. His blue eyes were excavations, deep, and musical, caught up in other places you could tell, places where poems rang or memories, old names, old faces, the geography of mankind. They held places he had left and feared he’d never to get back to. Each of his canes knew the back of your knees, the rump, in a grab at attention. Older townsfolk, walking by, talked to him at the open kitchen window, the curl of pipe smoke rising between them, while grandma was at her oven, her room full of breads and sweets.
Continue reading “Johnny Igoe, Spellbinder Remembered by Tom Sheehan”
“Hey, neighbor!”
Jan from next door leaned against the split-rail fence. His pug Otis yapped. With each explosive bark, all four paws cleared the ground.
” Hey Bart, how’s it going?”
“Ok”
” I have a little problem.”
“My bank account is overdrawn $33”
“How’d that happen?”
“Not sure but I think my pay schedule to pay down my overdue tax bill just kicked in so I got hit with a new $500 withdrawal I wasn’t expecting by Uncle Sam.”
“That sucks.”
“I just need to borrow 40 bucks until I get a check on Tuesday then I can pay you back.”
“No problem.” Continue reading “Here’s a Tip by Adam Kluger”
Jean-Pierre had been an engineer of Swiss watches. He had retired at forty-five after a very successful, brief career of twenty-two years. The thing on his arm looked like an aqualung. It weighed enough to make him feel it resisting his movements. Its face was extra thick, and the chunky bezel shone like a chrome grille. He had puzzled out its inner intricacies himself; he had made it as complicated as he could do. That had been his goal: the most complicated watch I can make—for no other reason than that. Just to do it.
It was a late spring day in 1981. Ana Severino clocked off early from the paediatrics ward in Hospital de Madrid. The new national healthcare system meant there were more and more staff on the ward, so no-one would notice her leave a few minutes before the end of her shift.
Leila Allison has been down in the bowels of LS Towers again – she sneaked in under cover of night and we found her in the early dawn light clutching this little gem. This is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Midas Brown by Nik Eveleigh”
Mama was in what Nana called “a manic phase.” She paced around the yard, cigarette in hand, while my brother and I waited for our father with her.
