“My father, Franz Josef Schennach, was a gendarme, Hauptmann, in Tirol. After the Nazi took over, he had to prove that he was Arian. He could not prove this,” Anna Stenson said. She looked across the room from her chair.
“Brown eyes go to Africa… They taunted me. At school. Only the blue eyes would stay in Europe, if Hitler won. I was hoping he would not,” she said adjusting the hem of her skirt.
Continue reading “Swords Hanging on the Walls by Richard Mark Glover”
“All things bright and beautiful
All creatures great and small
All things wise and wonderful
The Lord God…”
*
“I was told I should report here. What do you need me to do?”
“Shovels are over there, buckets are behind you. Dig or help carry it away.”
*
“Each little flower that opens
Each little bird that sings…”
*
“I’m sorry Mrs Jones but you’ll have to move back. They’re going as fast as they can.”
“I just need to know if Tommy is OK. He is OK isn’t he? He said he was feeling sick this morning but you know what they are like on last day of school…”
San Luis Obispo, California – August, 1939
Inside a private screening room, MGM chief Louis B. Mayer and his right-hand man, producer Mervyn LeRoy, have just finished watching a test print of The Wizard of Oz. Mayer is not satisfied with the cut and has instructed the projectionist to run it again, this time with the sound turned off.
Continue reading “RuPaul Saves the Universe by Michael Patrick Marino”
London 1929, a society sticking to the rigid values of the past, but only on the surface.
Such charm he had, Leonard. Such charm, elegance too. Poise, like a woman. He’d observe out of the corner of his eyes; feline, almost feminine. Everyone liked Leonard, even when the opinions expressed could be cutting. Acute observation.
People believed him blessed, and sought out his company at parties. He was rarely alone. Despite advances from both men and women, Adele was the only woman Leonard took home, but they weren’t lovers.
Tommy let his head rest back against the sand. It was hard, cold and wet. He knew that in the dunes further up it was softer but he couldn’t be bothered with the climb for the moment. The others seemed to have gone on without him, never mind, he could catch them later. He’d take a couple of minutes to rest here, nobody would mind surely and then he’d get back on the job.
He come in like dat. A black man on a black mare, seventeen hands, with three white socks. No saddle, no blanket, no shoes, bald head, no hat. Dat mare dancing and turning, kicking up the dust in the bright sun light.
I saw dat. Dat is what I saw.
Shadrach A. Williams
Recorded March 3, 1868
##
There was an old woman and a nurse in a room. The old woman sat in a chair holding a cane. There was a tray in front of her with a plate nearly full. The nurse bent over and wiped her face with a napkin. The nurse believed when old women talked about their lives it’s a sign they’re about to die. Miss Macintosh started doing that, and it was making the nurse anxious.
“How about you eat some of your peas?” coaxed the nurse.
For more than a month that horizontal plane, the cold, hard iron blade of the sea, has scythed around this lonely spite-filled ship, the Meeuwtje, the Seagull. Our only constant: that unwavering edge. If only we would come to it and tumble off into the void.
I am consumed with the vilest thoughts; acidic loathing, a derision that stoops my shoulders. This sinful, wind-blown bastard-mongrel pack with whom I share this stinking pile of creaking timber, rope and sailcloth!
Continue reading “Cold, hard iron blade of the sea by Shane Bolitho”
‘I’ve read your tales of India,’ he said, as he sat in my study at Rottingdean, ‘so I thought you might like to hear my story.’
I’d answered a knock at my front door just as my study clock struck midday, and found the man standing on the doorstep. He had looked cold, and oddly distracted.
‘Can I help you?’ I’d asked.
‘My name is Jabez Carter,’ he’d told me. ‘I’ve come a long way to see you.’
Continue reading “The Visitor’s Tale (a ghost story, after Rudyard Kipling) by Robert V. Stapleton”
”Another one, Mickey.” Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Yea I’m sure. Throw on another one. It needs to support the weight and account for winds, so throw on another one.”
“I’ll never get the speed high enough to take flight.”
“Sure you will. You’ve been practicing?”
“Yes. I’m fast. How are your motors coming along?”
“Don’t worry about them. You just keep focusing on staying on track at that velocity.”
Althea walked out from the cabin, kissed James on the cheek and placed a tray on the table. “How are you boys doing?”
literally stories 