Paul sighed as he walked into the unit. He didn’t want to be there but his mother had insisted. He walked into the lounge and saw his grandpa sitting in the corner. He grabbed a chair and sat down beside the old man.
Continue reading “Reminiscing by Hugh Cron – Adult Content.”
Simon sat at his desk. His boss Michael walked in.
”It’s approaching the holidays.”
”You mean Christmas?”
“No, we can’t say that.”
“Because we don’t want to offend other religions?”
“We don’t want to offend large groups of consumers, yes.”
It’s bedtime now. Santa will only come after you have gone to sleep.
‘Oh Grandpa, tell us a story.’
Only if you both stay still, no jumping around. Come on now, settle under the blankets and listen. Let me tell you about Grandma’s Christmas bauble.
It was a dark wintry night and we were huddled together reaching towards the small fire, stretching our hands into the warmth. No one spoke because they were afraid, so afraid that if they slept they might not wake in the morning.
‘We’ll wake, won’t we Grandpa?’
Shussh, let me tell the story.
“Me toes are freezing.”
“Come ‘ere, give ‘em ‘ere an’ I’ll put ‘em under me coat.”
“Oh nice, that’s nice. Are you cold Joe?”
“Mmm a bit, just a bit, snuggle up and we’ll warm each other won’t we.”
“Lovely. This place in’t bad is it. I know it’s a bit wet in the kitchen and it dun’t have electric like the last squat but it’s not bad ‘ere.”
“No, an’ it feels safer I fink.”
“Yeah. Eh, what’s that noise?”
“Dunno, I’ll go look you stay ‘ere, stop under the blanket and keep warm.”…
Continue reading “Mary, Joseph and the Baby by Diane Dickson”
I thought I’d take an umbrella. I peered out of the window and drew back the curtain. It was dark and cloudy. I didn’t think – snow – but perhaps rain, sleet, maybe. So, yes I decided, an umbrella. That was back then, when I was brave, when I thought I could do it today. That was when I operated on a “normal” level, sane.
The communal bathroom was a lot cleaner than she thought. This was the first time that she’d been in. She reckoned dust would be more of a problem than shit as everyone must have used their en-suites.
Chapter 1
The more cynical residents of Pynchon, PA claimed jam would go out of fashion before the town boasted an inhabitant of note, but the place was very much like thousands of small towns across America. It was a fair to middling blot on the landscape with thirty thousand residents, drive-thru burger joints, and an underachieving baseball team; and its attractions included a permanent fairground of rusting carousels, a correctional facility for troublesome women, and a jam factory.
Continue reading “Pynchon McCool: an introduction in twelve chapters by Michael Dhillon”
Ray had been listening in for some time now. It was fair to say that not much happened. He was paid regularly and managed to make ends meet, sure. Most of the time, that was all he cared about. The days were hardly springing by like joyous animals, but neither were they crawling in the vein of pained snails. Rent got paid, the cupboards got refilled and occasionally he treated himself to a trip to the local cinema. Work was work though, and he turned up daily at nine in his suit and tie, draping his jacket on the hook behind the door, sitting at his computer, and donning his pair of headphones. Continue reading “Listening In by Jon Green”
You emerge from the wet room, naked. Walk down a long corridor and into your bedroom where you dress in a lacy white thong, a lightweight short-sleeve translucent blouse in lime green and coral pink.
No bra. No footwear.
Outside the mercury hits twenty-seven degrees Celsius. Inside you have the air-con set at nineteen. Yet despite all your efforts to stay cool, heat rises to your skin, chasing away goose-bumps.
Continue reading “The Elite Agency by Xavier P. Xavier – Adult Content”
Scott was excessive. He would have told you that himself. He lived life to excess.
What I admired about Scott was that he had absolutely no regrets. I cannot explain why and you will have to take me at my word. I knew that he had no regrets when I looked into the twinkle in his eye as he told me so.
I first met Scott many years ago and he would tell me story after story about his life. I will admit I didn’t believe his tales of travel, wealth and famous people until the night he decided to show me his treasured photographs. There was Scott in all his finery, in some exotic looking locations, rubbing shoulders with some very famous people. I am no fashion expert but when you looked at the cut of his suit, you knew that they were money. He also showed me pictures of his wife and their land in…I think it was Thailand somewhere. Now I need to explain where I met Scott. I met him in a hostel for the homeless. He was living in a room that had no toilet or kitchen. But as I said, he had no regrets. Continue reading “Hep C And A Lot Of Codeine by Hugh Cron”
literally stories 