“Just follow me,” George said, “and you’ll know everything about Glastonbury, because I know everything about it. They all call me the king, everyone does, even mum.”
Category: General Fiction
Tin Folk by Lauren McGarrity
“And then she invited him over for lunch! Her man’s not dead a year and she’s already at that bowls club on the prowl.” The old woman’s bonnet bounced up and down as she spoke. The rain continued to pound the pavement as she and her friend passed. Sam listened to her story, smiling a little. If they hadn’t been walking right in front of him he might have thought that they were speaking to each other from across the road, their voices were that loud. He wondered if they realised how loud they were, if they were both hard of hearing or just assumed the other was because of their age.
The Female Bukowski? by Kathryne Cherie
The night started out with 2 racists in the Middle East Nightclub & Bar on the South side of Cambridge. Each man on the wrong side of a real bore of an argument. The spit that flew off their tongues stained the fabric of this particular dimension. The one we selfishly call ours.
A Conversation with Jeep Who Said the Moon Loved His Father (RIP Timothy) by Tom Sheehan
“The moon loves you, Dad,” said Jeep, one of my grandsons who lived in Maine and who was practically born in the seat of an old ’56 Jeep relegated to the farm. You can imagine very easily that is how Jasper got his nickname. The Jeep was an old army surplus vehicle left over from the Korean War that I was in during all of 1951. From the first, Jeep was a mover, hardly slowing down, except for cows, goats, sheep, hens and ducks, sometimes a pig as big as a mountain, at least big as your house. He roamed the whole farm and knew all its secrets, including the secret visitors that came onto the farm in the night time when most animals and people were sound asleep.
One Punch by Andrew Larter
– I’m really sorry, said the paramedic.
– But there’s no blood, I said.
– No. No blood, said the paramedic. You might need to talk to the police.
The Green Light by Ximena Escobar
Eleanor’s siren hair streamed like moon rivers on her shoulders, livened by the bluish hue emanating from the television. Simon lay on the couch, stretching his nape just enough to kiss the glass on his chest. The lime-green light on the baby monitor remained still. And I, as usual, didn’t pay attention to the movie.
Stalingrad Hearts by Jeb Greenberg
Mr. Johnson watched as the class shuffled in lethargically, their enthusiasm tempered by the warm spring weather and impending commencement ceremonies.
Satsuma by Rachel Davies
Mother is sitting on her sofa peeling a satsuma or clementine, or some other small, orange citrus fruit. She has removed the skin in small, finger nail-sized pieces, and is now carefully removing quivering strands of pith, and placing them with precision next to the teetering pile of skin on the arm of the sofa. I will be clearing them off later.
Loose Lips by Steve Sibra
From a prompt by Sari K Continue reading “Loose Lips by Steve Sibra”
Literally Re-runs – Blessed are the Little Things by Leila Allison
Sharon Frame Gay has sent in a couple of suggestions for Reruns. The first is by Leila and this is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Re-runs – Blessed are the Little Things by Leila Allison”
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