It is far too quiet for a room with two people, a room where the brush of bare feet on wooden floorboards struggles to fill the air. A room where dim, flickering shadows writhe unbidden across the wall, called forth by a candle sputtering futilely in the corner. It is the silence of empty air where people ought to be, and the bar is fully brimming with it.
Continue reading ” The Girl Who Does Not Exist by Kaela Li”
Marku 3 was a planet with a sun in eternal eclipse.
I landed there just over a week ago, careful to make camp within a small clearing in a forest full of pale, leafless trees. It was midday. It was brisk. There was a calming eeriness about the way the dim orange sunlight painted everything in shadows.
On that first night a group of the planet’s natives came to the camps’ perimeter and watched me in wonder. They were primitive with skinny inverted legs, bulbous heads covered in wire-like hairs, and a single eye embedded within the center.
They communicated amongst themselves with clicking noises made by tapping two bone plates on the inside of their knees together.
One came as an emissary, approaching within feet of me. As it stepped within the harsh glow of a floodlight behind me it suddenly froze.
It’s single eye dilated. Every hair was out like spikes.
It started with a low rumble in its chest. A soft frequency vibrated inside me, growing stronger by the second.
It was warm.
It was mesmerizing.
A dopamine rush flooded my system. Nothing else existed but ecstasy.
Continue reading “Step 13 by Joe Jablonski”
“16 years? Seriously, 16 years? You’re killing me!”
Why do they always yell? I didn’t know this guy, but I knew his story. He was in over his head. That’s how it was with most clockers. Give ‘em a second, they’ll take a year, right? Okay, I know that’s not original, but it’s still true.
“Not yet,” I countered. “Unless you keep borrowing more than you can pay back. And it’s 16 years and 47 days, plus a few hours. How do you want to do this?”
Continue reading “Borrowed Time by Rob O’Keefe”
“Have you spoken to him too?” the man asked.
“Huh?” The boy didn’t even take his eyes off his comic book, only putting it down to quickly light a cigarette. “To that old guy? Yeah.”
Continue reading “A Choice, Through Time by Anatoly Radimir”
Here we are at Week 413 and it’s my turn again.
Having a conversation with my mum this week brought up a sort of weird writing idea from me and that was about setting a story in a time.
Continue reading “Week 413 – Once Were Wedding Presents, A Part Of A Half Billion Cabinet And A Wee Fellow Nervous In The Showers For A Lot Less.”
Meet the Hammy Dodgers
The crystal ball on my desk flashed red. This happens whenever the Witch HeXopatha (nee “Hezopatha”) wants to pee in my lager.
HeXopatha is an immortal Wiccan. She has been around for thousands of years and will continue to be around for however long it takes for her to get bored with the world and retire permanently to Hell–but I don’t count on that happening soon. Once upon a time the “peasants” might have been able to do something about HeXopatha, but her skill level has risen beyond river tossing and the pyre. In fact it is a bad idea to mention such previous activities in HeXopatha’s presence; nor is it advised to claim to be of “Puritan stock,” unless you enjoy long hours in pillory stocks.
Continue reading “The Riddle of the billigits by Leila Allison”
The Grammar Check is in the Mail
There is a vast, unplumbed hole in my learning when it comes to vocabulary. For instance, I went many years believing “unplumbed” meant clogged, like a tavern toilet, not unfathomed, nor lacking indoor plumbing (though I was in the same outhouse with the second definition).
I also went a very very long time thinking that “desultory” was a synonym for dismal; and until recently I believed that “penultimate” placed extra emphasis on ultimate; “atypical” did the same for typical–and, worst of all–I had “hirsute” as a fancy word used to elevate a person’s status instead of an adjective that describes someone who likely grows hair on the bottom of his/her feet.
Continue reading “Week 412: Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda; The Week That Remains; Unexpected Genius From Unlikely Sources”
Rehab, 1988
Using cardboard, duct tape and a lamp, Tess turned her closet into a camera obscura.
“This gag’s been around forever,” Tess explained to her “model”–a simple but sweet cocaine addict named Sabrina. “Remember, hold a straight face and don’t look at the light.”
Continue reading “Kick by Leila Allison”
For my sister Tracy – Happy birthday and I know that your mind will be elsewhere. Hope this cheers you up a wee tad.
Continue reading “Franky And Jesus by Hugh Cron (Warning – Very strong adult content with what some would find blasphemous references. Do not read if you are likely to be offended.)”
Sometimes when I start these posts I’ll have a look at the number, birthdays, events in history, that sort of thing, to see if it inspires.
I started reading about the year 411 AD and, to be honest, it was very fucking boring. I then found something about the Missing 411 but couldn’t make head nor tail of it as there were more than a thousand, so fuck knows why it was called that. I finally found this doozy – Seemingly if you keep seeing the number 411, it means that you are being taken care of by a divine being from higher realms. Now what that means, I haven’t got a Scooby.
I remember a person who worked with me and was ‘spiritual’ in a very dubious way. They came to me one day and stated, ‘Look, I’m being looked after by an angel’. They had found a white feather where they were sitting. Maybe this could have been an angel??? Who am I to pooh-pooh (I hate that phrase and I haven’t a clue why I used it!) them for believing in this divine protection. Well, I have my reasons. The doors and windows were open and there was a young seagull stuck in the alleyway where our work was. He walked around, screeching and picking at his feathers. I pointed out the seagull…Without mentioning that he may have been the cause (Not sure why I thought he was a he??) and do you know what the daft bastard said…’The young seagull will be fine because my angel is here.’
…I reckon I could have got away with murder that day as a mercy killing!
I began to think on what I believe in – Angels not so much. However…
…Before I relate this event, I do want you to know something. We are a story site and a lot that I write is exaggerated and twisted but not what I am about to tell you. I will even swear on my first love – A litre of Bacardi (Gwen knows and has accepted this for years!) that this is true.
Gwen’s mum died in 1987 a month after Gwen had turned 18. As a lot of folks do, she was looking for answers and went to a few mediums, soothsayers, spiritualists, whatever you want to call them. She did this for a few years. We got married in 1990 and she was still doing this. In 1991 we had the worst year ever. (HAH! Which has now been bombed out by 2022) Our heating blew up. Our window fell out. Our 100 yard boundary wall fell down. And I wrote off the car. Every fucking thing cost us more money than we had.
Anyhow, at this time she went to a spiritualist and a few bits and pieces were said, some right, some wrong and some indifferent.
But when I saw in her eyes that there was something, (Oh – I was in the bar in the hotel where the guy had set up, waiting for her) I asked her.
Seemingly the fellow had said that he didn’t understand why he was looking out from a house and seeing nothing but fields. (Our wall had been pulled down and that was what we were looking at.) Gwen is an old hand at this and she gives nothing away. She even sits on her hands so no-one can see her rings or what type of rings so she just let him speak. He then stated from that house he could see her husband driving and that he was a very safe driver. (Which I am due to my friends three year old kid being killed on a road by a reckless wank!) He then stated that I was in a bad crash…I hadn’t really considered it bad but my tyre blew out, I think the car spun and I ended up in a cow’s field which had an eight foot drop from road to field. The car stayed up ended. But the thing that did make me shiver a wee bit was the roof and the sills either side of the wind-screen. There were barbed wire indents about half an inch deep all around. I honestly don’t know why the car didn’t topple or the barbed wire cut through.
Anyhow my point is, the guy stated that I was being looked after that night because I deserved it. He said that there had been a kill on that road before and that was the guy who was looking out for me.
I must admit, it did put, not so much a shiver through me but a weird feeling. When Gwen told me all this, I got us a drink and raised my glass.
The one thing I know though – I wasn’t saved by a fucking seagull!!!!!!!!!!!
Okay, onto this week’s stories.
We have four new writers and one fellow who is now up to story number four.
We welcome all our new writers and another wee nod to Jim Bates, whose tenacity and courtesy we have admired from day one. We are delighted to see him on the site.
As always our initial comments follow.
First up on Monday was Phoebe Mullen whose first story for us was called ‘Beach Walk.’
‘This thing is hell weird!’
‘Active and strange.’
‘Brilliant tension and the weird was good.’
Our next new writer was Spencer Levy with the very descriptively titled, ‘Arm Milk‘.
‘Unpleasant, gritty but sincere.’
‘Grim and sad.’
‘A very real piece of writing.’
The newbies keep on coming!
R.W. Maxwell’s ‘Skeleton Crew‘ broke the back of the week.
‘Excellent flow and pace.’
‘The spookiness and underlying threat all the way through is well done.’
‘This has the right balance between weird and sense making.’
Peter O’Connor has found a good run lately and I think Revamp is story number four for him.
‘It’s a sort of sarcastic shot at those home improvement shows.’
‘Really funny.’
‘So readable!’
And we finished off with the gentleman that is Jim Bates!
‘Emil’s Magic‘ completed the week.
‘I like that he can be caught out if not careful.’
‘Overall great tone and pace.’
‘Perfect timing regarding the ending.’
Well, that is the angelic posting 411 completed.
Please keep the comments coming. And if you did before and haven’t for a while and fancy coming back, we’ll be delighted to see you!
Just to finish, well before the obscure / shit / brilliant / all of those, music section:
I don’t watch much TV and over the holidays, I watch even less. But ‘Two Doors Down’ is brilliant and I sought it out. But that wasn’t what I want to share (Although seek it out. Maybe a wee tad too much Scottish ideals but it is stunning!)
I’d like to share a line that I heard throughout the festivities. There is also a wee lesson here as per the genius that is Billy Connolly – Never steal a line, always mention who said it and you will still get a laugh. He quoted the late great Chic Murray so many times (That man is as literal as you get) and always told you when he was doing so.
I give you this belter from Brendon O’ Carroll and his amazing creation ‘Mrs Brown’s Boy’s’
Mrs Brown:
– We thought about not having children.
– (Winnie, her friend) What changed your mind?
– No-one would take them!!!!!
Ahh fuck it – It’s New Year and I have a few sentimental memories about this regarding my dad and my wee Great Aunt Georgie!
literally stories 