Category: Short Fiction

Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 331 – Even Derren Brown Would Struggle With Some Of Our Submissions, At Least We Know The Words To Our Anthem And Yet Another Mad Tory Shagger!

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Well here we are at Week 331.

Every now and then we throw in a few nuggets of wisdom about the site and what we look for. Or how we consider submissions in general, so with that in mind, I’d like to concentrate on fledgling writers and pass on a few bits of advice. I think any writer who has done this for any length of time will agree with most of these.

Continue reading “Week 331 – Even Derren Brown Would Struggle With Some Of Our Submissions, At Least We Know The Words To Our Anthem And Yet Another Mad Tory Shagger!” →
Literally Reruns, Short Fiction

Literally Reruns – Car Crash Television by Nik Eveleigh.

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Now that Leila is an integral part of the LS team she has taken to sleeping in the cellars of LS Towers. We hear her while we are upstairs having an end of the week drink. Muttering as she moves through the stacks. It’s okay we don’t mind. She brings out stuff like this.

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Short Fiction

Week 330: Fear and Recreational Violence

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Fear

I’m afraid of heights, close places, and small talk with strangers. This makes me a crummy candidate for riding in planes. Which is fine because I’ve only been on one air trip in my life, and I will never do it again. I’ll go by car, rail or ship first. Hell, I’ll walk, if it comes to that. A friend once told me that air travel is statistically much safer than going by sea. She also reminded me that I cannot swim. I retorted that I may learn how to swim anytime I please, but that my prospects for self propelled controlled flight are limited.

Excellent questions usually attract poor answers. For instance “Why do some people joyously skydive and bungee jump, while others clutch the sides of their chairs until the blood has left their knuckles just contemplating those activities?” I usually reply to something like that with “You never hear about anyone leaving a crater after she falls off a barstool, right?” Yet, later on, when doomed to spending time with my own thoughts, I wonder why I am afraid of the devil may care aspect of life.

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Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 329 – Remembering Stewpot, Wondering If Two Snowflakes Are Frightened Of Everything And China Crisis Did Some Good Songs.

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It’s Saturday afternoon.

It’s Twelve O’ Clock.

And this is post 329.

I hated ‘Crackerjack’.

It was a kids show that ended with a quiz. If the kid got a question correct, they got a prize that they had to hold. If they got it wrong they were given a cabbage. If they dropped anything, they got another cabbage.

But on the bright side, the wee stupid weans would at least have coleslaw and soup to eat for a few weeks!

Continue reading “Week 329 – Remembering Stewpot, Wondering If Two Snowflakes Are Frightened Of Everything And China Crisis Did Some Good Songs.” →
Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 328 – He Always Wanted To Be Sammy, More Brilliance From Tom And Potential Familiarities

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Before we start, we have a Brucie Bonus:

‘Nice to see you, to see you…’ – Oh I can’t be bothered! If you don’t know the reference, I suggest you don’t look it up.

We have a secret level today, a wee addition.

We are delighted to announce that we’ve received a piece of work from the legend himself, that, to be honest, we didn’t know how to categorise. It isn’t exactly prose. It’s definitely not a story or essay. And it’s not a poem.

But what it is, is a brilliant piece of writing.

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Short Fiction

This Old House by Tom Sheehan

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For history and legend sakes, certain attributes, character traits if you will, have to be appointed here at the beginning of This old house (B. 1742), home for more than a half century of my life. To start off with, to walk these stairs, up or down, a signal for day or evening in the heart of an otherwise silence, is to hear sassy children underfoot. They are the underlings of square nails stretching their might, hanging on for more than two and a half centuries worth of treads and risers and hand-hewn stringers.

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All Stories, Short Fiction

Week 327: Twenty-six Ways to Weave Your Drunkard

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Everything is offensive. There’s no plainer way to put it. There is no topic that can be brought up that is universally inoffensive.

“What about a box of cute newborn puppies?” A voice in my head asked, when I first conceived the opening paragraph.

“Gotta do better than that head voice,” I said. “Try to fight this: ‘Cute, but that breed shits on the floor, no matter how hard you teach ‘em not to. How dare you rekindle that memory.’”

“Okay. How about World Peace and True Love? Surely no one can complain about them,” my head voice said; for it was a stubborn head voice that needed to be smacked on the nose more than once.

“Munitions manufacturers will find something wrong with the first and the second does not exist. Go away, head voice.”

Case closed.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

The Human Condition by Monika R. Martyn

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In life, everyone knows a version of Dave. Dave is the sort of man who is never any good with the ladies. Sure—he can joke with them at arm’s length, the innocuous touch on the shoulder, the forearm. And because a sprig of humor always plays on his lips, he smiles most of the time. He also suffers from a continuous string of good manners and never fails to hold doors open for the ladies, and flatters them on new sweaters and haircuts. Without crossing into hashtag territory, he comforts them when they confide in him.

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Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 326 – A Successful Return, ‘Shall We Shag Now Or Shall We Shag Later? And Who’s Got A Beard That’s Long And White?

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Another thanks to Leila for doing such a sterling job last week.

We had an inventive posting from a lady with a brilliant imagination.

Your back in the mud guys with me!!

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Literally Reruns, Short Fiction

Week 325: Little Vermin Have Big Ears

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Advisory

No vermin have been harmed during the production of this post. The only vermin the author would like to harm are those who police matters of pronoun usage. In this piece Rats will be referred to in the masculine and Mice in the feminine (and yes, I know capitalizing vermin species deviates from standard usage). It could have gone either way, but mention of the late Audrey Hepburn, in relation to Mice, was the deciding factor.

For those persons who will still take offense on general principle, due to the combined deficiencies of their parents, mentors and education systems, I offer this item I found on Google yesterday during my research for this piece: Oxygen through the rectum aids in respiration. Since the persons addressed in this paragraph think and speak with and through their rectums, I find it fair to point out that there are health benefits to be gained from such ignorant actions.

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