The pigeon pecking imaginary seed on the outside ledge thought it strange that Alan should open the office window and join her – his long gangly, shaky, legs unfit for perching eleven floors up.
‘Don’t worry little bird, I won’t be here long,’ he said at last standing with his back to the glass, the palms of his sweaty hands acting as limpets attaching him securely to the building.
Continue reading “The Jump by SJ Butler”
Once upon a time in the future, when you’re long dead in your grave, two brothers with magical powers meet again in the middle of the Indian Ocean to settle their dispute once and for all with a final duel.
Sam and Mitch are ship captains, just like their father. They own big container ships and spend almost their entire time on the Indian, Atlantic, and Pacific Oceans. Each brother has twenty-two crew members and a magical power. Sam can control the weather, and Mitch can mute whoever or whatever he wants.
Continue reading “The Storm and the Silence by Sam Kandej”
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day in the U.S. of A. (In the UK and Ireland it was 15 March–a belated happy one to Diane and the rest of the Islanders), I am not a mother, but I had one and found her to be sufficient. She was the sort of Mother who would die for her children and often made this one wish she would do just that.
We are awfully unfair to our mothers. We either over praise them up to Mother Mary Poppins or we blame them for not just all the heinous shit we do but for all the heinous shit ever committed in history. Expecting mothers to maintain a higher standard than what we are willing to consider is one of humankind’s greatest failings. Still, objectivity is not something we associate with family members. But alack and alas, all in all, in the end, everything tabulated, I’m glad I got the mother I was stuck with (vice versa); I do not believe anyone else out there could have made me and–despite my plentiful laments on the subject of me–I am used to being the person I am, and I’ve never been one for wishing I was someone else.
Continue reading “Week 583: Mama Mama Please No More Step Dads”
A descendent of the famouse songstress Josefine, our Joshuana glories in the contrast she provides to her more renowned ancestor. Where Josefine brought to her people the strange comforts of song, our Joshuana brings with her the rarest of silences, the kind not usually associated with our species. Dubbed by her peers ‘Defender of the Silence,’ she is tireless in her displays, rigorous in maintaining the decorum required. Like all our kind, Joshuana piped and squeaked on first entering the world, but, once apprised of her famouse ancestor’s legacy, she soon struck off on her own, developing a style of reticence more commonly found among those of a mystical bent. I say ‘commonly found,’ by which I mean common to the exceptionally rare cases encountered. Reticence of course eventually gave way to a high-minded taciturnity, and from there it was but a short step to silence proper. ‘Josha,’ as she’s come to be called, remains as much a prey to the daily hazards as everyone else but there is about her, increasingly, a quality hard to define yet discernible perhaps even to the wiliest of predators. Arguably, of course, Josefine herself might be said to have scaled the mystical, her peculiar music having had the power at times to stir the least musical of listeners, which is to say approximately everyone – our people’s reputation for tone-deafness being, sadly, well deserved. But silence, such as the happy kind evinced by Josha, is another matter altogether; the note of transcendence struck is even less measurable than the kind reached in song. That Josha appears unaware of its effect says more about Josha than it does her brand of silence. Her presence unsettles as much as it intrigues, and among those it intrigues will be the few whom it inspires. There’s not an hour goes by some rumour doesn’t do the rounds – an outbreak of silence here, a wordless demonstration there. And as in the days of her famouse forebear, it took a period of strife and upheaval to bring to the fore Josha’s particular gift. A slump in the economy, the threat of starvation: crises enough to send many scurrying into the arms of demagogues so fiercely unfashionable they sounded credible. Silence was not a word on anyone’s lips. Needless to say, things were generally noisier, considerably so. But for Josha, already long wordless, the shituation proved a turning point: her silence would be “weaponized”. That much she was said to have said; that much was apparently heard. How she proceeded to make her presence felt of course has since acquired the prestige of legend, been itself the subject of song. Scraping and working with the same level of busyness as her fellows, she is yet able to imbue her activity with a peculiar ‘stillness’. How this stillness of hers disquiets the rowdier among us is a point of contention all too loudly debated. Those in positions of power fear its effect on the workforce; those with little to lose welcome its power to instill fear. The notion of saying nothing at all as an act of potential subversion is one of the central issues of the hour.
Continue reading “Joshuana, or: Defender of the Silence by Geraint Jonathan”
Here we go again. Welcome to Week 582.
Before I start, I’ll answer the riddle that I set on my last posting.
Off the top of my head –
Two letters make a male – He.
Add one to become female – Her.
Add another to become male again – Hero.
Add three to go back to female – Heroine.
Take one away and if you take this you won’t care what you are – Heroin.
Continue reading “Week 582 – A Wrecking Crew, Going For Five And Let’s Not Forget.”
Abdi barges into my craft room, without his glass eye. Which he knows I hate.
“Hey, Mom?” he says.
“Did that Zoom call already finish?” I ask. This homeschool group is such a jerkoff. Why do we even pay for it? I mean, I could teach him nothing by myself for free.
“I found this snowglobe eyeball online. It’s so cool. I could flip my head upside down and then…”
Continue reading “A Body Without Organs by Miles Efron”
I am not a cynical luddite, but I believe everyone ought to have a little oldfashionedness in her for the sake of maintaining a soul. Still, progress isn’t completely evil. It brings more good than bad in medicine (at least it does when you compare modern TB and smallpox statistics to the way things were a hundred years ago). But I’m also convinced that as an animal, one whose evolution is influenced by long-term realities, we are not wholly prepared to accept sudden changes. Moreover, being small we are overwhelmed by reasons to feel worthless and dumb; and when it becomes clear that a ten-year-old can do more with our phones than we can, let’s just say it is not good for the self esteem. (Then again I can drive a stick and parallel park without an AI, so there you little Weaselings!)
For at least 99% of human history we lived the same way. It was hard to win a living from the soil and when we managed to light a fire with rocks and damp kindling and somehow outlasted another winter we felt like whatever the word for rock star was way back in the Middle Ages.
Continue reading “Week 581- Have You Never Been Melodramatic”
It was a cold day in the Tonopah Basin. Ground temperatures hovered near freezing. Even seasoned Nevadans found such days eerie; frightening almost. The sun still arced through the sky, the desert looked as it did on the days it was baked, but William Navarro’s breath had condensed during his last refueling stop. It was as if the air had been shifted one world over, destabilizing the familiarity of the landscapes through nothing more than a drop in temperature.
Continue reading “Test Site by Zachery Brasier”
Forget George and Martha, Bill and Hillary and even JFK and Jackie–and although Eleanor Roosevelt was a winner, there was a tremendous distance between her and FDR that was probably enhanced by policies rather than feeling. No, for me the most interesting relationship between a husband and wife who at one time occupied the White House was that of John (1735-1826) and Abigail Adams (1744-1818). They were married for fifty-four years (when such lengthy unions were common amongst people who managed to live long), and through their correspondences (which were required due to John having to serve the nation from afar) the reader is able to admire a loving relationship between two opposite personalities who met correctly on higher thoughts and had the admirable ability to like each other.
Continue reading “Auld Author: Dearest Friend: The Letters of John and Abigail Adams.”
Here we go once again folks.
Saturday Posting 580 is upon us.
I was interrupted typing this as ‘Zulu’ came on the TV. It made me wonder what were the films that I’ve watched the most times. (A nod to Leila with a list!)
Off the top of my head and ignoring, ‘Carry On’ films which would win hands down (Especially, ‘Follow That Camel’, ‘Cowboy’, ‘Cleo’ and ‘Up The Jungle’) I thought of-
Zulu
The Count Of Monte Cristo.
Jaws.
The Poseidon Adventure.
Young Frankenstein.
Once Upon A Time In America.
Who Dares Wins.
The Towering Inferno.
Con Air.
A Night To Remember.
Expendables.
Wedding Belles.
The Omen.
Love, Honour And Obey.
White Heat.
…And I need to mention, ‘The Ministry Of Ungentlemanly Warfare’ as I know that will become weel watched!!
I’d be very interested to read your well watched films. Unless, that is, any have Tom Hanks or weeee Tom Cruise in them!!
I want to start with this posting by mentioning this Artemis shite. Our world is in turmoil. We have people being displaced through no fault of their own. There’s famine, destruction, shortage of water, disease, depravation, energy shortage, increasing energy costs and so much death.
…And what do the powers that be think a good way to spend NINETY THREE BILLION DOLLARS on??
…They wisely don’t think that they should use that money on famine, destruction, shortage of water, disease, depravation, energy shortage, increasing energy costs and so much death, no, they think it’s a cracking idea to have a jolly around the moon!!
What really bugs me is this. Since the waste of money was a success, what difference has it made to the plight of the good folks effected by all that I’ve previously mentioned – Fucking nothing!!
If the waste of money blew up at lift off, what difference would it have made to the plight of the good folks effected by all that I’ve previously mentioned – Fucking none!!!
Mind you…At least those astronauts friends would have been spared from ‘When I was in space’ shite-talk every time the fuckers opened their mouths!!
There was never a truer thing said when it was stated that they looked down on our world!!!
This is the first time I’ve ever said this but I hope it was all an AI hoax and some wee lackey has pocketed the fucking money. At least one person would be having a good time on it!!
I had a look and according to what I could see, seemingly, rocket fuel doesn’t do that much damage to the ozone. (If you believe what we’re told) This has to be true!! A mere seven hundred thousand tonnes of rocket fuel can only enhance the planet!! Not like a skoosh of deodorant or a cow’s flatulence!
Another plus – I hope wee Greta had a sob!!! To me this is the first time that she’d have had a point!
This quote wasn’t for this complete arrogance of ignoring their fellow man, but I think it’s appropriate:
*‘Scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, that they didn’t stop to think if they should.’
All that money could have saved so many lives. Shame on all involved and all the fuckwits who cheered!!!
…The only thing that’s more expensive and more pointless is a war!
*Anyone know where the quote came from?
This song shouldn’t, but will always be ignored!
Talking about AI, we’ve had an issue here in Scotland with school weans. (Pronounced Wayne’s meaning children)
The wee delights have been using software and pictures of their teachers to make it seem that their teachers were doing things that only catholic priests can manage. They also threw in some acts of violence and other depravity. Certain teachers have had to take time off with stress. (Fucking wimps!) If we had that ability in our day, we wouldn’t have dared. Not through respect. Not through not wanting to but simply because we knew the teachers would have belted us into oblivion!!
That would be apart from Mr Heigh, he would have been more than happy to pose and come up with some artistic ideas!
Now onto this week’s stories.
We had two new folks who we welcome, a third timer and two well established writers of the site.
First up on Monday was the multi-talented Adam Kluger with ‘Swiper Alley’. This was story number fifty eight for him.
‘This is a reflection of the world we live in.’
‘I like Adam’s world view.’
‘His art enhances his stories.’
Stephen Silvester was next with his third story for us entitled, ‘Stonechat.’
‘This is clever.’
‘There are some witty lines to enjoy.’
‘This is as good an idea as I’ve seen for a while.’
On Wednesday, we had a legend who has now reached story number one hundred and one. ‘Mr Lucky’ was next up for Fred Foote.
‘I think the first after a hundred would be very difficult to do!!’
‘There is some devilment within.’
‘Fred is always a class act.’
Our first new writer was Mary Jo Thomas. Her story was called, ‘Winter Solstice.’
‘This has that little something that we are always on the look-out for.’
‘A really well thought out idea.’
‘It’s a wee bit different.’
And we finished off with our second new writer, Callie J. Smith. Its title was, ‘The Monk’s Knife’.
‘Weird and well written – What’s not to like?’
‘The mix of ordinary and extraordinary was well done.’
‘This easily won me over.’
That’s us for another week folks.
Keep doing what you are doing.
The comments were up five percent last month so all good!
Two things before some music.
Firstly – I need to give a nod to Rory McIlroy as he became only the fourth golfer to win back to back Masters wins. (Jack Nicklaus, Nick Faldo and Tiger Woods are the other three.)
And thank you Sky for your TV domination which stopped me watching it!!!
I’ve probably told you my favourite golfing saying many times before but since I haven’t pissed off the woke fuckers for a while, here it is again.
A short putt can be called a Rock Hudson…It looks straight but isn’t!
Secondly here is something that fucks up the idea that ‘they’ can be used as a pronoun.
A wee riddle to tease you.
Add one letter to two letters to change gender.
Add another letter to change it back.
Add another three to change it again.
Take away one and when taken, means you’ll not give a fuck who or what you are.
There’s no specific reason why I have chosen this piece of music, I think it was simply because I wanted something that’s more enhanced the louder that you play it!!
Turn up your speakers and enjoy!!
Image: A space craft separating and a capsule heading for the moon. From Pixabay.com
literally stories 