Author: literallystories2014

All Stories, Science Fiction

The Aviator by Frederick K. Foote

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God help me. God help me be patient. God help me harness my anger and control my paranoia. I don’t want to go off on Carol again. Night Hawk completing weather analysis for scheduled high-speed run in forty-six hours, twenty-seven minutes. Alright, I take a deep breath, and I clear myself for take-off for a fifty-minute flight in the turgid air of psychobabble.

I open the door and start to greet Carol, Major Greer, but there is a linebacker looking white dude with blond hair and a neat little beard. Where the hell is Carol? This is her office. Did I get the time wrong or maybe the wrong day?

“Major Harris, I’m Doctor Clark. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

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Latest News

Literally Stories – Week 37

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Last Sunday Literally Stories Editor, Tobias Haglund, chose his three favourite stories published on the site in the regular weekend feature,  ‘Editor Picks’.

If you would like a turn at Editor Picks email us at: literallystories2014@gmail.com and tell us in less than a 1000 words why you think your three selections are special.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Humour

A Miracle on Granville Street by dm gillis

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It was said that the Grove Café was so cheap that the Health Department had to bring its own cockroaches. It occupied an abandoned Bank of BC storefront on Denman Street in the west end of Vancouver, a mixed neighbourhood of the snotty middle class and the grubby poor. The café is gone now. The lease ran out, the landlord raised the rent and the Grove ceased to exist. The storefront sits empty now, and though he’d never admit it, the greedy landlord laments the loss.

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All Stories, General Fiction

River Water Larceny by Tom Sheehan

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English Wells fought the Pumquich River for forty years, moving his will ever by degrees at it. “By God, Miriam,” he often said to his wife, “I’ll go at it until I drop, most likely. What you work for, you get. You get what you work for.” English, lacking funds or worldly promise, wanted to steal more land from this side of the river, to push his small estate out over the river’s run, to claim energy’s due.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Story of the Week

Neverland by Jono Naito

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I gave him what was left of my hand because he asked for it with such a kindness; he even called me miss. It was the kindness you forget about when you run out of family and end up in a home off the soggy edge of the Everglades. Rosecliff, they called it, to make it sound less like swamp muck. I didn’t know how well I could stand anymore until that man, the father of the head doctor, told me we were leaving for somewhere better. You don’t get feet to disintegrate like mine unless you traveled, and traveled I did, and travel I would. All that man had to say was please, you know, before I remembered how to walk again.

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All Stories, General Fiction

This Face by Diane M Dickson

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Today I know this face.  I stare into the mirror and I know this face.  It is me, not the me that it was when we bought my mirror all those years ago.  Down in the antique market, Martin and I trawling for treasures to make our home and we found it dusty and forlorn, how pleased we were.  No it doesn’t show me that person, but it is the me of now and of just yesterday.

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Literally Stories – Week 36

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There is a well-known truism you can take a horse to water but a pencil must be lead. I have waited an aeon  to find a suitable juncture to slot this witticism into a profound piece of writing, but alas, had to stick it in here instead.

Whilst this observation might seem bizarre, regular readers will know instantly it is merely a shameless contrivance by which to segue seamlessly into the first of this week’s homages to the short story.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Underneath the Rose by Irene Allison

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It’s now three feet farther to hell for persons who’d jump off the Warren Avenue Bridge. The City of Bremerton has recently installed an eighteen-inch extension to the span’s rail. In my opinion, the city has wasted its money. The Warren goes up to a fatal height almost immediately, and at its middle it stands better than ten stories above the churning and hungry Port Washington Narrows. Only Serious Persons go over the Warren; less than serious persons, those who need just a little attention to feel better inside, never go to the Warren to perform on the off-chance that they might fall off. No, I don’t see a foot-and-a-half—in both directions—getting in the way of a well prepared and dedicated serious person.

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All Stories, Fantasy

How to Have Broken Her Heart by Nate Rush

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tulations! You have successfully traveled backwards in time!

Do you have qualms about killing a rare and mystical beast? Do you fear the DMV and other institutions like it? If so, read no further; if not, read on. Throughout the course of this guide you will learn the secrets of time travel. To travel back in time it is necessary to collect your supplies, construct your machine, and then, finally, to make your jump. This is no easy process. Many men and women far smarter than you have failed while attempting to turn back the hands of the clock.

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All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction

Swan River Daisy by Tom Sheehan

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Chester McNaughton Connaughton, aptly named for both sides of the family, landowner in the new world, squeezer of pennies and nickels at the very corpulence of coin, embarrassed at times by his own good fortune where his roots had once been controlled and ordained by potatoes and turnips or the lack thereof, gazed over the latest acquisition of a two-acre parcel abutting his prime abode and wondered how he could best utilize it. Mere coinage, he had early assessed, would apply the jimmy bar under Carlton Smithers and separate him from the land in their town of Saxon, not far from Boston. Carlton was old, alone, susceptible. It would be a piece of cake. It was, subsequently and as he had forecast, a swift steal, and papers and proper process moved the property under the shield of his name.

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