Leila has gone back quite a way with this one and singled out a long time friend of the site. David Henson has stuck with us for a long time and it’s great to see his work getting another moment in the sun. This is what she said:Continue reading “Literally Reruns – The Bracelet by David Henson”
Well here we are at Week 302.
I find it interesting not just the state of mind that someone is in when they write but actually when they write.Continue reading “Week 302 – Showaddywaddy, Yes Jesus Loves Me And Everyone Needs Some Bowakawa Pousse, Pousse.”
Thanks to everyone who took part in last weeks celebratory post!!
It was a lot of fun to do and to see the response.
Onwards and upwards to posting number 301!Continue reading “Week 301 – Questionable Bargains, Aneurisms And Remembering Petunia’s Tongue.”
Jimmy’s knees were indented where his elbows dug into them.
He gently moved to and fro on the swing. He could hear his father singing some old song that he’d heard too many times. He looked across the road and saw Charlie The Paedo staring at him. Jimmy knew if he told his dad, he’d end up in jail again.
He heard the pub door open, “Here you go son. Is your mum not back from the bogs?”
The boy shook his head. He accepted the crisps and can of Coke.
A Cookie and A Glass of Milk
(A version of this story was first published in the Santa Barbara Literary Review)Continue reading “A Cookie and a Glass of Milk by Shira Musicant”
Here we are at week 299.
Our sixth year anniversary was on Tuesday but we will deal with that next week on our 300th posting.
We are still not publishing plague stories and do as much as we can not to mention it, you may have noticed.. But we do have something to thank it for and that is the removal of Peter Sutcliffe from this planet. I’m hoping that it has a job in hell repeatedly killing Thatcher only for it to make it redundant.Continue reading “Week 299 – Hell Getting Fuller, Plunging A Prick In A Prancer Pullover And Crocogaters Living On Tropical Islands.”
Three thousand days in and America is still counting.
Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it feels that way.
You wouldn’t see that happening in Britain. Our powers that be are a lot more organised than that. Well maybe not so much organised, but for every day not being in power is expenses that they are missing out on and children that they aren’t molesting.Continue reading “Week 298 – Perfect Poaching, A Gorgeous Glare And A Respectful End.”
The old man with the thin black moustache and neatly pressed white shirt stood at the back of the line. The line of men, women and children crowded tightly on the side of Waterloo Road, stretching from the entrance of the rum shop past four houses. Often cars drove past, forcing everyone to squeeze right up to the edge of the small drain which ran alongside the road. The old man swayed slightly as he shifted his weight between his feet.Continue reading “The Elephant and the Milk by Sean Maraj”
Here we are at Week 297.
There were some comments between us this week that made me think on meaning of story.
We are all three people.Continue reading “Week 297 – A Trio Of Being, Being Shit With Charcoal And Worry For The Silent.”
A gecko named Keeler escaped her enclosure about twenty minutes after Renfield had brought her home from the pet shop. Keeler didn’t care for the transparency of her new digs and decided that her happiness lay in a blended existence with the walls, furniture and such in the haunted Stoker-Belle household. You see, Keeler didn’t think of herself as a gecko; she self identified as a Karma Chameleon.Continue reading “The Karma Chameleon and the Diplomaniac: A Feeble Fable of the Fantasmagorical (Season Two Opener) by Leila Allison”