Category: All Stories

All Stories, Christmas Crime Week 2025

The Viaduct by Hugh Cron

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I’m introducing my own story here.

I’ve not much to say other than this was a blast to write. It was based on some actual events that were told to me by an old work mate. Ironically it wasn’t long after Leila told me that this had been chosen for this week that my workmate passed away.

I am honoured to be part of this and I was honoured to have known the legend that is Murdoch Scott!

RIP Murdy – It was an absolute pleasure working with you and sharing a few pints!!!!

The Viaduct by Hugh Cron – Warning – Strong Language

Image: Jail cell with Christmas trimming chains on the bars by Angie at Studio Anjou

All Stories, Christmas Crime Week 2025, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

Snow by Diane M Dickson

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Hello, I hope everyone is geared up and ready for the madness about to be released, though it’s probably already ongoing in most places. When the rellies get you down and you fancy a nice quiet sleep somewhere without turkey and stuffing perhaps an overnight in the local lockup appeals.

Anyway, I hope everyone has the exact sort of time that they want and I have to say thank you to my fellow editors for choosing this little piece to kick off the Christmas Crime Week. Strap in guys, things could get rocky – ho ho ho.

Snow by Diane M Dickson

Image: Jail cell with Christmas trimming chains on the bars by Angie at Studio Anjou

All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Hear, Hear by Karl Luntta

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As his hearing receded into the ethers, Frank’s days filled with numbing despair. He was going deaf, there was no denying it. He’d tried with what inner strength he possessed to stave it off, first by denying it completely like any sane person would do, then by telling himself he was only forty-two, things like this aren’t permanent at this age, of course it will pass.

Continue reading “Hear, Hear by Karl Luntta” →
All Stories, General Fiction

The Summer He Let Me Be General by Jacob Alexander Cohen

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The last time Dave showed up clean, he brought bagels and a joke.

“I had to use the car key to spread the cream cheese,” he said, holding it up like evidence. “Don’t worry. I wiped it on my pants first.”

It was early—gray morning light, barely six—and we sat on the hood of his rusting Civic in the driveway, steam rising from coffee in mismatched mugs. He wore a collared shirt that still had fold creases in it. His hair was damp. He looked awake in a way I hadn’t seen in years.

Continue reading “The Summer He Let Me Be General by Jacob Alexander Cohen” →
All Stories, General Fiction

The Lives of Gadu Tom Phillips

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Everyone knew Gadu told lies. But  no matter. He was an artist, and while nobody believed he’d run a cocaine factory in the Bolivian rain forest whilst living with an uncontacted tribe or been chief stone mason during the reconstruction of Mostar’s Stari Most, his stories were hilarious.

Continue reading “The Lives of Gadu Tom Phillips” →
All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Imaginary Friends by Gareth Vieira

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“What’s it like, being imaginary?” asked Lisa Hannigan.

She sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, gazing down at her imaginary friends, Sally and Qney, who mirrored her posture on the carpet below, knees tucked neatly beneath their chins.

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All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever–M an essay by Dale Williams Barrigar

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“One of the most unappreciated people in the world.”

– Joshua Logan on Marilyn Monroe

“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be
absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” – Marilyn Monroe

“Will the wind ever remember / the names it has blown in the past?”

– Jimi Hendrix, “The Wind Cries Mary”

There’s something about Marilyn that can bring tears to the eyes like no other actress can do, and that fact does not arise from any one movie she made, whether good or bad, unless it’s The Misfits, her last, in which she is truly brilliant as a performer; she flowers and blooms into a new “her” in that film, especially in a few scenes.

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All Stories, Editor Picks, Short Fiction

562- Remembering a Wonderful Friend and Some Goofiness Regarding Genre

ireneallison12

A Friend

Dear Readers

Before we start this week’s silliness, I must relate the news of the passing of Tom Sheehan, who died 16 October, at age 97. Tom holds the site record of 228 stories. He and I coincidentally debuted on LS in August 2015, and Tom nearly doubled my output in less time, even though he was thirty-one years my senior. I doubt anyone will catch him.

But more importantly, Tom was a fine human being: A husband, father, grandfather, historian of Saugus, Massachusetts and a veteran of the Korean War. It is not my object to create sadness because 97 is a damn good run and Tom was still writing till the end. His final submission, an acceptance, of course, The Decoration occurred this past spring.

We will be running a far more fitting tribute to our friend in times ahead, so please keep an eye open. 

Leila, Diane, Hugh

Genre

I am not powerfully educated nor will my pride allow me to google every little mystery, but I feel that I have a fairly clear-minded grasp of genre.

I hear the word and Western, Science Fiction, Fantasy (not just impossible S.F.), Crime (or CMT), Mystery and so on pop into mind. In that regard “genre” is a useful list of things, and I highly approve of lists.

Continue reading “562- Remembering a Wonderful Friend and Some Goofiness Regarding Genre” →
All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction

 Unlucky by Gareth Vieira

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 Johnny Smiles was the unluckiest person in Hope County.

How unlucky? So unlucky that the town council passed a bylaw restricting him to his home. A motion that passed unanimously. A sentence he accepted without protest.

Although Johnny was an older man, most folks considered him an overgrown child. He was brilliant, in the way all children in Hope County were brilliant—a lingering side effect of the Disaster, that tainted the drinking water and perfumed the air with long-forgotten toxins.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Broken Piece of Me by Doyin Ajayi

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Adult Content

For Ann

That sound, sharp.

It slices through the air like a whip. It jolts me awake. I haven’t gotten used to it. The harmattan wind blows through the open windows. I rub my shoulders and try to warm my body up.  The huge searchlight in the yard casts a shadow of the cashew tree on the walls. The branches spook me. They’re wraiths reaching for me, their pointed tips looking like spears aimed at me, reaching for my soul. A woman’s scream. Sergeant Wasiu’s gun cocks again. He’s the chief of the guards – a cruel man with gallows humour. The creeping feeling rises up in me again. The night’s quietness is eerie. The woman’s screams are louder now, they’re bloodcurdling.

The gun roars. Her screams stop abruptly.

Continue reading “The Broken Piece of Me by Doyin Ajayi” →