Today we open the Crate of Shame and expose the first story published on the site by Irene Leila Allison (there’s a story behind the name change, but it is dull and not worth further mention). Now that it is out there’s little that can be done but deal with it and hope it eventually crawls back into its lair.
Continue reading “Literally Rerun – It Happens Every Other Sunday By Irene Allison (Leila)”
Week 552
I think I learned something this week that surprised me.
…Should that be ‘learnt’?? I always get those two mixed up.
I was made aware that it’s only British folks who salute a lone Magpie.
Is that correct??
Continue reading “Week 552 – A Black And White Thief, A Couple Of Questions And Orange Juice.”
The city of Nodding had built the eight bullet trains in case the day of the bomb ever came, and when the day did come, to the horror of all, Jennings was at Pet Smart to buy dog food.
Continue reading “A Dog Named Job by Peter Biles”
Tom Sheehan has written in every possible genre over his seventy year and counting career as a writer. And sometimes, as with today’s story, The Ghosts at Horseshoe Creek, he will blend two together.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Tom Sheehan”
I was riding the bus last week when I was attacked by a MWCM, which stands for “Misty Water Colored Memory” (lifted from that gooey Barb song she sang before she got the perm that made her look like “Arnold Horshack” on Welcome Back Kotter–a dated reference but very true). As you have likely guessed MWCM is a sarcastic term. It defines an elderly concept in my “Ago” that is always attempting to change me into a sniveling old Shrew. We all have something like that inside (or will once fifty or so comes creeping), an ugsome, nettlesome something that (apparently) has invested heavily in old Shrew futures. I cannot kill mine but I can temporarily beat it to atoms by using my hard, old cold heart as a hammer. I often take satisfaction in imaginary acts of violence. They keep me balanced.
Continue reading “Week 551: The Attack of the MWCM; The Week That Was; A Belated Happy 80th to Debbie”
Into the cab
In a daze
Leaving the bar
About to take leave of my senses
A complete lightweight all these years later
Continue reading “Not Such a Weird Duck By Adam Kluger “
1880, Charleston Settlement, Oregon Territory
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Hope was getting old. The thrill was gone, and her wiccan skills were diminishing due to her lack of enthusiasm. Oh, she could still raise a demon, but they were low rent, stereotypical evil and talked too much; most tended to live in the past with little thought given the future. And she could still impress the hell out of the feeble-minded, but public schooling was cutting into the ignorance she had so long depended on. Educated people tend to ask questions. They see a three-headed frog and attribute it to science instead of witchcraft. Bastards.
Continue reading “My Fair Wiccan by Leila Allison”
From behind a second story window, we three watch for the girl. Fissured by time and fractured by turmoil, the glass allows for less than optimal viewing, but my sisters and I can see well enough to take immediate notice when her slight figure emerges from a subterranean staircase and melts into the crowd. This particular evening is boisterous and punctuated by the trappings of revelry. A new year is preparing to throw its filthy arms around the neighborhood, animated celebrants studding the sidewalks like remnants of a tenement fire.
Continue reading “Grayscale by Carolyn R. Russell”
David Henson is one of our top contributors in both stories and daily comments for writers. Today we bring back his About Uncle Story.
Continue reading “Rerun Henson/About Uncle Story by David Henson”
Here we are at Week 550!
Before I start…R.I.P Ricky Hatton and Robert Redford!!!
Both were legends in their own right!
Continue reading “Week 550 – 45 Wins!! I Enjoyed ‘The Natural’ Even Though The Two That Are Thought Of Are Immense And I Could Have Told Worse.”
literally stories 