A greeter stood in the driveway wearing a black T-shirt, jeans, a set of Halloween cat ears atop his head, and had pulled a ladies negligee over his clothing. “A smile, that’s what I like to see. That’s why I do this. What a weirdo you say. But you’re smiling. Everything priced over a dollar today half off.”
Roy clutched the handles of the dog-eared backpack slung over his shoulder. “This is my father’s house.”
This week’s Fab Five was made up of one old boy, two Literally Stories Editors and two newcomers.
Des Kelly began the week briskly, setting a good pace with Running. James McEwan commented: “A clever and metaphoric piece, that is absorbing from within the character.”
Tuesday saw LS newcomer Jon Beight — welcome Jon — introduce a rarity to this neighbourhood of cyberspace. Namely a love story. Elizabeth Swann Lewis commented on Miguel, Lola and Ted – A Love Story: “I will probably never ever get the image of the guy melding with his chrome out of my mind. HILARIOUS.”
Wednesday, yet again, occurred in the middle of the week. I suspect, Wednesday’s author, Nik Eveleigh, couldn’t give two hoots whether or not you clicked on his story, Apathetica. Des Kelly wasn’t so indifferent when he observed: “Enjoyable and trippy stuff. You’ve gained entry into the magic lands of Terry Pratchett and escaped to tell the tale.”
Hugh Cron posed a question that felt more like a plea in his gritty tale Why Can’t She See The Difference? Diane Dickson remarked: “By approaching this from a less usual angle – that of one of the less obvious victims of a crime – you have produced a powerful piece of writing about the aftermath of a dreadful deed. Uncompromising and heart rending.”
The week finished on Friday in a not too distant future with another addition to the LS fold, Jaclyn Adomeit. Welcome Jaclyn and thank you for writing Drafted. Hugh Cron said: “This caught my interest very quickly. You have crafted a futuristic story with the recognisable attitudes and problems of today.”
So here I sit, awaiting the judge’s decision. Draft dodging’s a major crime for anyone, but these days, the court seems hell-bent on punishing the women. Equality – right? It’s a real titty-twister that the sexual revolution came full circle. How can you argue?
Miguel
Miguel sat on the shelf, admiring Lola the way he always did. He was in love from the moment he first laid eyes on her. Because he was a simple farmer, being in the presence of such beauty tied his tongue. Her face, Miguel would say to himself, must be what angels look like.
Continue reading “Miguel, Lola and Ted – A Love Story by Jon Beight”
Down the street the girl with bright hair ran. She’s running still, in her own way. Trying to avoid the thing she was made to do.
It’s been years, and nobody knows. Except for her.
Hair streaming in the sun.
It reminds her of blood. She’d like to wash it away.
Slowly scrub the stain.
‘Salt.’ Granny would insist. ‘Use salt.’
There’s salt in her tears. It’s not the same.
We invited Literally Stories author and friend, June Griffin, to be Editor for a day and choose three great short stories from the site. Here is what June had to say about the three stories she chose and why she felt they were special.
The forces of nature, human and otherwise, are at work in my three top picks, which I heartily recommend to every LS reader and writer, past and future.
Without a shade of murkiness, each story reveals these forces in their own distinctive way and pays tribute to the human comedy with clarity and precision. Each of the writers has perfected a beautiful writing style, and their intriguing plots and characters keep us engrossed from start to finish.
Yeah, it’s a new blind, built it last week. Saturday. Out all day. Phyl made me a sandwich for dinner. Ham and swiss. Said she was tired. She gets tired a lot lately.
Yeah. I heard you stopped by.
You could have kept that longer, if you needed it. But thanks for bringing it back.
Yeah, you take something of somebody’s, you return it the way it was when you took it. I know, sometimes you can’t, but still…
i
I met Joey Schaffalinski at an alcohol treatment centre in Fresno, though that’s not important. Not yet, anyway. He had one of those put-upon faces. Like life had beaten him with a sack of hammers for his first few years and when you got to know him, you understood why. You’d have the same face if you were playing his hand.
In any other time, in any other place Joey would have been one of those “one in a million” babies that Fox News like to close on after injecting Mid-America with its nightly dose of fear, if it wasn’t for the fact that there was another… right beside him in fact. Rather than see the odds of two children born at the same time both with Adenosine Deaminase deficiency SCID, as a one in a million X a million, the news outlets ignored it.
Continue reading “Joey Schaff (AKA Genes and Seafood) by Dave Louden”
This is without a shadow of a doubt the most disgusting, pig sty of a tattoo shop I have ever had the displeasure of visiting. It’s in the bathroom of an abandoned Shell station about ten miles off Highway 99 just south of Fresno. It reeks of urine and feces and is littered with used condoms and equally used sanitary napkins.
The walls are smeared with what looks like dried feces and graffiti written in the same substance. I hold my breath as I address the two thin, bearded white men in immaculate white doctor jackets with name tags reading, Alphonse and Dupree. Despite the doctor jackets, they are somewhat lacking in bedside manner.
That was a person, right? That was a man.
Minka’s knee is already way too close to the steering wheel as she brakes hard. The car stops just short of a short tree. She knows that tree. Coca.
Shit.
She looks forward, not into the rear-view, because behind her is the curve. There’s no seeing around curves.
She hears thumping, dull, rhythmic. It’s her right hand smacking the map next to her, again-again, crinkling all of Colombia down into the seat cushion.
Shit.
Continue reading “You Don’t Say No to Ituango by Amanda McTigue”
