Dribbling saliva, slumped in the deepest of rêveries, he was approached by a French accented usherette- a veritable mini-skirted caricature, advertising a take-me-from-behind coquetry; she tottered wantonly, making a beeline towards him. Continue reading “Rêverie by E. F.Hay”
The leg swept in a wide arc, missing her face by a margin. Avni scooted further back, her eyes trained on the dancer who strode across the room and leaped twice, a leg stretched one way, a hand stretched the other way. She didn’t want to miss a thing. The dancer fell to the ground lightly, the body surrendering to the fall, to the pull of gravity. In its surrender, the body defied the will of earth.
Avni followed her mother and her friend out of the studio after the dance performance.
“Did you like it, dear?” Avni’s mother’s friend asked her.
“Yes, very much, aunty,” Avni said.
Leila has brought forth from the catacombs a tale by one of our oldest friends. If you have been around the site at all you will be familiar with Mr Foote – This is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – One Wish by Frederick K Foote”
The pomp with the primered Ranchero dropped three stacks of jackrags in the alley behind Elmo’s Adult Books and rang the bell. This happened every other Saturday afternoon. Sometimes the pomp waited for old Elmo to waddle back, sometimes he’d drive off before the fat fuck unlocked the back door. It was one of the times the pomp drove off first. Tess stood lookout, and I dashed from our side of the alley, snatched a bundle, and got back under cover with seconds to spare. Then it was off to Fort Oxenfree, leaving Elmo a little poorer.
He emerged slimy and sticky. They wiped him off and held him up, like a curious, unexpected artifact.
Reading about recent events in Bristol took me straight back to an incident that occurred some three years ago, when I underwent a crash course in consciousness raising. And, I should say, if you’re out there, Mark, please get in touch!
It wasn’t a lifetime but 37 years was a good stretch of time.
After a particularly vivid dream where the two spoke again finally, and connected intimately in the lobby of the apartment building he grew up in, Craig Bugowski woke up happy, and fished for his iPhone.
Karrie M. was on his list of Facebook friends.
She had accepted his FB invite two years prior.
Her birthday was a month ago. She was a Gemini.
Anyone who has been reading our stories for any amount of time must be aware of Mr Sheehan who has over one hundred published pieces with us. His cupboard is huge. Leila had a rootle around – This is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – The Unforgotten by Tom Sheehan”
The manicurist left lye out among the pedicure chairs, struggling to maintain the salon to her standards, but the We’re Open sign was only half true and gone were the days her window said No Walk-Ins. After a customer burned skin off both feet, she kept things hygienic and let the overall harmony of the salon decay. One afternoon, the bamboo chimes stirred, announcing the arrival of three women. Breasts so large, the first woman was on the verge of tipping forward. A second woman lumbered under an oily mane. A third burbled, lips swollen and barely moving like two dowels in the teak plate of her face.
Billy circles to the right, away from Blaine’s money shot.
The big right-hand snaps out like a snake and Billy slips it and it goes over his shoulder.
Billy digs a hook into Blaine’s side, trying to tag the floating rib and bust it.
Blaine winces and drops his hands, only slightly, to cover up.
Billy flicks out a jab. Once, twice, aiming for the nose.
Blaine’s head jerks back and sweat droplets spray off his head.
Billy’s dad always said the jab is as important to a boxer as a paintbrush is to an artist.
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