The river’s current was strong. Everyone knew that, although very few ever felt it. The ripping current. That current was what caused the body to float to the surface. It had been the first dead person I ever saw. Actually, no, that’s a lie. John’s funeral had been my first sight of a corpse. I suppose it all started with him. I was not meant to see that one,not that I was meant to see the other.
Continue reading “Downstream by Sean Cannon”
The hydrangeas were bent under veils of snow. Irritated at late spring snowstorms and disorder, Ethan Crick had his broom to the bushes and the sidewalk before the fat flakes had stopped falling. He noticed the oddity right away, standing up out of the drift, pointing to heaven.
Continue reading “The Finger by Joy Oden”
Kim Yujǒng:
A Writer Who Lives On Almost a Century After His Death
Bruce Fulton
Kim Yujǒng (1908-1937) is one of several Korean writers who lived abbreviated lives but whose works helped cement the role of Korean short fiction as the foundation of modern Korean literature. The latest edition of his collected works (2012) lists 32 stories (in addition to a dozen personal essays—sup’il—and a handful of other prose writings). Of these stories, 27 were published during his lifetime, almost all between mid-1935 and mid-1937—one of the most productive bursts of creativity in modern Korean literary history.
Continue reading “Writers Read – Jade Bunny – A translation by Bruce and Ju-Chan Fulton”
The soft couch encouraged recollection. The locked door made it more difficult. A space heater ticked rhythmically in the corner. Lying prone, Johnson stared at the ceiling, and into his past.
Continue reading “The Bottom Drawer by Foster Trecost”
78-year-old Cameron walked about wearing a 40-pound exercise vest. His routine included marching every day up and down the mall stairs and then through the mall, back up to the park and along the beach and up some more stairs. The extra weight gave him purpose and strength.
Continue reading “A Thousand More Steps by Harrison Kim”
This year’s competition, held in Zurich, will see strong challenges from the Eastern European bloc, hoping to break the Scandinavian dominance of recent years. However, three time champion, Roine Svensson, remains the bookies’ firm favourite to retain his title. Dimitri Zitesev, head of the Bulgarian delegation, was adamant however, “Our men have been training all year for this event. We are very confident.” Despite the dark cloud that hangs over their participation, Zitesev insists, “the doping allegations have not distracted us from our goal.”
Continue reading “European Dishwasher Stacking Championship by Michael Smith”
Part I:
HELLS KITCHEN
An arachnid-type beast roasts portions of sin-marinated corpses from inside a furnace in hell. Its tentacles slither along the hallways that connect Hell’s kitchen to the abyss, while holding onto non-silver platters filled with well-done souls for beings of the underworld to feast on.
As a passerby behemoth helps itself to a portion of sin-glazed appetizers, an ascetic’s essence is delivered as an array of gourmet selections to the holiest orders in Hades’ lounge. The martyr’s soul bears too much essence for Beelzebub and his priests, and so most of it is served to visiting heathens from heaven.
It’s here in Hades’ lounge where all energies made manifest by man’s thought, word, and emotion are fed to the holiest of deities after death—to again manifest life through rebirth.
Continue reading “Hades Lounge by Jacob Otira “
“It’s great of you to come and hear me speak. I know that’s not actually what’s going on; saying that makes it seem like this meeting is the product of a request or a personal choice. I like that. I prefer it to the alternative of having to introduce myself and explain a little about why I’m here. We all know why I’m here.”
Continue reading “The Wood Places by Ena Kaitch”
Frank paused as he left the hotel and looked up and down Skomakargatan. With the sky shading into a deeper blue, lights were already coming on along the narrow street. To the left was Stortorget Square and Stockholm’s famous Christmas Market which he and Ellen had strolled around earlier that day. Exhausted from the jetlag and needing some rest from the bustle of the crowds, she was fast asleep in their room but Frank had too much nervous energy still and had decided to burn some off with a brisk walk.
Continue reading “A Nobel Ending by Steven French”
I’d dropped into the Gordon Arms the other night, expecting to watch my team in a death-or-glory relegation struggle on the pub’s sports channel. Instead, they were screening some jaw-cracking yawn of a European game (how could you ever get excited about a team called ‘Borussia Mönchengladbach’?). I was just about to drain my pint and head home, when I recognised a familiar big red face grinning at me from a table in the corner. It was Willie the Postie, now retired, who I hadn’t seen for a couple of years. So I bought us a couple of pints and we settled down for a catch-up.
Continue reading “Willie the Postie and the Humpbacked Bridge by Michael Bloor”
literally stories 