Author: literallystories2014

All Stories, General Fiction

Horses Riding in upon the Waves by Des Kelly

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Sitting atop dunes looking out across the sea with wild breakers racing in like horses riding in upon the waves, keeping a watch for invaders; wild berserk axe men steering their longboats ashore to pillage, rob and kill.

The wild breeze whips the surface off the sand to send it spiralling like a crazy snake all across the ground; with sea weed patches scattered never to be redefined, spits and spots of rain cascade in the wind, some of it salt and some ill-defined.

Diving beneath the cover of walls built by hard faced men long vanished from the earth, searching out the hollows, collecting pebbles for one last dash & defence towards the approach to Castle keep, splashing through fast flowing water, scattering fat sheep and whooping a warning the boy drops breathless and excited onto the sandy soil.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Aunt Miranda by Diane M Dickson

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When the blow first fell it was devastating.  Grandfather roared and blustered around the rooms.  He used words such as wanton and strumpet.  Strumpet, it’s a ridiculous word, it doesn’t fit, sounds silly and theatrical.  There was nothing silly about the situation and if it was theatrical it was a Tragedy.

Mummy and Nana sat in purse lipped silence.  Their hands wrung and squeezed, white knuckles straining against aging, tightened skin. Aunt Miranda was “In Trouble, Disgraced, a Ruined Woman.”

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Latest News

Literary Stories Week 13

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The task of writing Week 13 News fell to someone (me) who has made a habit of late of staring at blank pages. Bereft of inspiration (I tidy up and make tea and send out a load of emails to make myself useful) I’ll leave the wordy stuff to the reader/writers of Literally Stories.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Story of the Week

Waiting For Francis by Todd Levin

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I stood at the bathroom door of The Shield waiting on Francis. It had been a long Friday night like most of them had ended up being. This old place had been standing longer than we had but somewhere along the path between here and the hospital visits it stopped feeling that way. But we were alive. More than can be said for our beloved Shield.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Red Ribbons by Des Kelly

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Red ribbons floating on the water. A hand sticking up from the deep. A cold plunge into nothingness. The sky so large, and he so small upon the summer lake. The rise and fall of a voice calling out for help…

The dark descending; too little comfort in the night…

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

Phil’s Last Journey by Diane Dickson

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When the willow fell it swept to the surface of the engorged torrent in a graceful swoon.  The roots wrenched from the ground flinging mud, pebbles, small boulders and the moss and grass of the bank skywards.  The whipping branches flew across the water to be grabbed and hurled downstream till their anchorage on the great trunk stayed them.  They streamed in the flood, tempestuous ribbons squirming and writhing in the wild water.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Science Fiction, Story of the Week

The Conscious Coward by Vic Smith

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Professor Tomlinson was a disappointed man. He had recently achieved his life’s ambition, and already he could see it beginning to crumble.

He turned in his seat, and shouted across the laboratory to his assistant. “Hargreaves! Give me those figures again.”

Hargreaves was sitting in front of a luminous screen, looking at a series of diagrams that were filled with information. He was checking through each one in turn, collecting and collating the data. He pushed his spectacles back into place on the bridge of his nose, and repeated exactly the same numbers that he had read out a few minutes earlier.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Sweet Surrender by Diane M Dickson

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She knew that when it came time to count the money she’d be found out. The afternoon had wound on interminably and the first crime had been followed by the next and the next and the next.  Now she was so heavily committed to the misdeed that there was no way out.

Of course, as with so many of these things, it wasn’t her fault. If you really thought about it the one to blame, the one who should be standing here now on the brink of disaster, his stomach churning and heart flip-flopping was Mr Stevens. Her old boss, Stinky Stevens, he of the underarm white stains and the halitosis from hell. If he hadn’t been such a stupid, incompetent business man then his little caravan re-fitting business wouldn’t have folded. If the firm hadn’t folded then she, Lorraine, would still have a job as book-keeper, a proper job with a wage, a coffee mug and a finishing time.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Story of the Week

Talk To Me by June Griffin

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It’s Sunday afternoon. There’s lots of time before the game. My husband gets up and turns off the TV. ‘Let’s go for a ride.’

‘Yeah! It’s stuffy in here. Take me to the ocean, honey. Let’s catch some breezes.’ I will take a drive to the ocean any day to get out of our dreary rental. Its gray color, both inside and outside, makes it cheerless to say the least.

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