All Stories, General Fiction, Story of the Week

Saunders House by Tobias Haglund

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I remember sneaking into the old Saunders house with my older sister. The trees twisted into positions which during the night cast shadows, which still haunt me in my dreams. It was silly, but great fun. We were discoverers of occult. Patrons of good, as Father Hope called us. I miss him. Father Geary is stern and never lets anything go. He forced Jane to grow up too fast. Twenty years old and already mother of two and married to Hank. Hank ‘wooden-face’ Edison.

I still visit the Saunders house. I won’t get in trouble for going into the yard any more, but I still sneak, pretend that the shadows are moving in the moonlight. When Will and Joey are older we can play there. Hopefully I won’t be too old.

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All Stories, Humour

Holding Hostage by Tobias Haglund

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A young man or an old boy depending on your view point, called Vernon, was in his last year of high school when something out of the ordinary happened, but to fully explain the situation one needs to understand the back story.

Vernon went to an IT-oriented high school even though he had never been interested in computers. Since most of the classmates were geeks, Vernon knew he had to become the cool guy in the class; it was and still is Swedish law. However Vernon had no experience in being cool.

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All Stories, Historical

Icarus by Tobias Haglund

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”Another one, Mickey.” Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Yea I’m sure. Throw on another one. It needs to support the weight and account for winds, so throw on another one.”

“I’ll never get the speed high enough to take flight.”

“Sure you will. You’ve been practicing?”

“Yes. I’m fast. How are your motors coming along?”

“Don’t worry about them. You just keep focusing on staying on track at that velocity.”

Althea walked out from the cabin, kissed James on the cheek and placed a tray on the table. “How are you boys doing?”

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Gulls Cry by Tobias Haglund

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The gulls cry. The waves and the winds of mid-July rinse the sand as I lie on the beach stretching my fingers, reaching and touching white foam. It recoils just as my fingertips graze it. Back into the ocean. The gulls cry and the lighthouse flashes, calling home. The sky is empty yet filled with everything. The salt and the sand polish stones as smooth as my memory of the touch of her cheeks.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Story of the Week

The Village by Tobias Haglund – Adult content

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”You see this meadow, boy? It was a swamp before we moved here. One of the conditions for buying the mansion and the adjoining land was that I paid to have it fixed and also the beach. You enjoy the beach, right boy? The restoration of the pier as well. How do the villagers repay us? They let their dogs shit on the meadow. They shit on the meadow, boy. They want me to pick it up… Look out the window! There’s Andersson with his ugly daughter.” Erik stopped and rolled down the car window. “HEY! Andersson! Pick up after your shitty daughter’s shitty dog! Or I will empty my septic tank all over your ugly house. I’d do you that favour. The shit glaze would probably raise the property value.”

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Valley of the Shadow of Death by Tobias Haglund

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-Go on! A minute of rest is a minute lost in the Garden of Eden. Legs, listen to me. You will stop cramping and raise my body of burden another step. One more. That’s it.

I know. The air is drier, lesser than I thought. I have not given you sufficient energy to climb another cliff. If I could I would have banished my thought process and saved you some energy. It has done me no good, only fueled me with doubts. I remember praising the hour when the sun set. ‘To be rid of the burning sun,’ I said, ‘is all I can ask for.’ The heat cost us my water and I was already conserving my supplies.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Story of the Week

Honey Pie by Tobias Haglund

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It shone over Hayfield, South Dakota, and George Angus ran his hand through straws of Hard Red Winter Wheat. Cream colored leaves. He used his hand to shield against the sun and fixed his eyes on the old oak tree upon the hill. Then down again. Frail dryness. Like the touch of Mary’s hand. He looked at his own hands, dry but not frail. Quite sturdy. Sharp lines, trenches from a working life. He ran his palm over his scruffy wide face.

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller, Story of the Week

Pater Noster by Tobias Haglund

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Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. I’m a string tied too tight on a harp close to breaking; the tired glow left after a flame; the last paint on the brush colouring the wall of my life and I look to you. Against you I’ve sinned and done what pains your eyes. Lord, turn your face away from my sins but don’t deny me your face or take away the Holy Spirit. Questions and lack of answers have plagued me in a lifetime lived in your honour. However, a lifelong devotion is outweighed by a single misstep. The path to salvation is through you and your son. A kind eye towards friends and foes are not the path; only the submission to your glory is. Continue reading “Pater Noster by Tobias Haglund”

Latest News

Literally Stories Week 14

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Another week of  words where verbs very welcome were. Verbosity? No. Not us. Never. We would never use a very unnecessary word. Why do I begin the news piece this way? An important lesson, of course. An edited piece stands a stronger chance. Remove unwanted verbosity. Look up the word verbosity, then add back those words you removed and cut the fat. Now, to some lighter news.

Light bulbs are on sale.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Story of the Week

Beffroi by Tobias Haglund

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A rose peaked behind Beffroi and stalls were winding down as the red spotlight hit Anders and Eva. Another glass of Chardonnay. In the second floor of an expensive hotel Eva’s lipstick kissed every glass since the early afternoon. She saw him caring about the activities of others and removed her sunglasses. “What is it?”

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