Category: All Stories

All Stories, Horror

Parachutes at Night by Tim Frank

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Let me tell you the procedure.  We will never meet. Everything is anonymous. We are The Parachute Art Installation Company against Deformity and Disfigurement. You won’t find us on any search engine, but we span the globe. We invade flats, skyscrapers, parks, beaches, motorways, stadiums, places of worship and pounce on unsuspecting Victims who we have painstakingly monitored. We strike against individuals from all strata of society that are deemed physically repugnant.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Horror

Haunt Me Like You Hate Me by Alex Sinclair

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“Men are gold, and women are white cloth. Gold, once sullied, can be cleaned and polished, while white cloth, once soiled and torn, can never be clean again.”

 Khmer proverb

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All Stories, Historical

Hell Cat Laid Low by Marco Etheridge

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Maggie slogged through the murky gloom of Water Street, her boots squelching in the muck. Gas streetlamps threw wavering silver cones into the darkness. The feeble light only accentuated the inky Manhattan night. Piles of manure and offal cast eerie shadows across the black mire.

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All Stories, Fantasy

The Cormorant and the Misophonyx: A Feeble Fable of the Fantasmagorical by Leila Allison

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Prelude 

There are three music Spirits. First you have the Tintintinabulator. Tins were classically trained pianists in life who haunt specific keyboards (pianos, organs, harpsichords, etc.) in death. Tins are generally friendly, but being artists they are hypersensitive to criticism and require reassurance full time. Next we have the Chimespeak. Best described as self-taught travelling minstrels/buskers in life, Chimes are nomadic Spirits who wander from here to there and affect anything from the grandest church bells on down to kazoos fashioned from handkerchiefs and combs. Tastes aside, these two Spirits classes are equally talented even though the Tins tend to look down on the “prolish” Chimes, who in turn wonder how a Tin can look down on anything with “its” head so firmly tucked up its own buttocks.

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All Stories, Humour

6th Anniversary of Literally Stories – Today is the day. A post will follow on Saturday 28th celebrating all our milestones.

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Orange Girls by Tim Frank

The orange girls hit the tanning salon then went to Lacey’s flat and smeared fake tan lotion on top just to be sure. They crammed into her bathroom, their bodies wrapped around each other like snakes in a cardboard box and then wrestled to gain a glimpse of themselves in the mirror. They slapped on foundation, blusher, eye shadow, eyeliner and fake eyelashes making sure not to swamp the almost bruised orangeness pasted across their thighs, cleavages and a multitude of other unmentionable crevices. They filled their bottles with vodka and orange, taking gulps like thirsty construction workers as they rode the train into town. Lacey lit a fag in the carriage on the way and then the rest followed suit. Soon the windows went foggy. Other passengers fake-coughed in protest and the orange girls turned brown in the dim light.

Continue reading “6th Anniversary of Literally Stories – Today is the day. A post will follow on Saturday 28th celebrating all our milestones.” →
All Stories, General Fiction

Kenny Women by Fiona McGarvey

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Amber Kenny was a timid child. She had a round face and hair to match her name. Every night she prayed for her wild, orange curls to turn dark and straight but every morning they bounced back into place, redder than ever.

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All Stories, Literally Reruns, Writing

Literally Reruns – Direct Democracy by Tobias Haglund

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As luck would have it this piece has been brought to the surface in the nick of time. Leila’s comments are very pertinent now as we await the outcome of events over the next few weeks. This is what she said:

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