He emerged slimy and sticky. They wiped him off and held him up, like a curious, unexpected artifact.
Category: Short Fiction
Set in Stone by David Rudd
Reading about recent events in Bristol took me straight back to an incident that occurred some three years ago, when I underwent a crash course in consciousness raising. And, I should say, if you’re out there, Mark, please get in touch!
Paperboat by Kenrick Pinto
The last paper boat. At least Herman hoped it was, watching it float away. Transported by the Danube to a world far from his own. A world without weapons and bombs. Without destruction. Where dreams didn’t die, where they weren’t shattered. Where men lived. He watched as it carried a tale of love, of loss, of grief and of war. Is that why they call it the Black sea, he wondered. All emotions coalescing to form a black, murky mass. Was the sea black inside, hiding behind a shade of blue, flowing nonchalantly. Like the people around him, hiding their sadness behind a smile. It will all be alright, they said. To others, to themselves. That it was destiny. There was nothing they could do, and the world would return to normalcy. It had to. Someday.
Sexual Healing by Adam Kluger
It wasn’t a lifetime but 37 years was a good stretch of time.
After a particularly vivid dream where the two spoke again finally, and connected intimately in the lobby of the apartment building he grew up in, Craig Bugowski woke up happy, and fished for his iPhone.
Karrie M. was on his list of Facebook friends.
She had accepted his FB invite two years prior.
Her birthday was a month ago. She was a Gemini.
Literally Reruns – The Anthology – Week 294
The Literally Stories UK Anthology celebrates its fifth birthday this year and I think it’s high time that the persons who put such hard work into bringing it about come forward and take a bow. It is still available as an e-book (I am lucky enough to have bought a print copy), and since it was developed to aid the Book Bus and literacy, all persons who purchase a copy stand a much better chance at Heaven than those who have not.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – The Anthology – Week 294”
Or I Could Be by CK Bern
The manicurist left lye out among the pedicure chairs, struggling to maintain the salon to her standards, but the We’re Open sign was only half true and gone were the days her window said No Walk-Ins. After a customer burned skin off both feet, she kept things hygienic and let the overall harmony of the salon decay. One afternoon, the bamboo chimes stirred, announcing the arrival of three women. Breasts so large, the first woman was on the verge of tipping forward. A second woman lumbered under an oily mane. A third burbled, lips swollen and barely moving like two dowels in the teak plate of her face.
Punch drunk by Alex Sinclair
Billy circles to the right, away from Blaine’s money shot.
The big right-hand snaps out like a snake and Billy slips it and it goes over his shoulder.
Billy digs a hook into Blaine’s side, trying to tag the floating rib and bust it.
Blaine winces and drops his hands, only slightly, to cover up.
Billy flicks out a jab. Once, twice, aiming for the nose.
Blaine’s head jerks back and sweat droplets spray off his head.
Billy’s dad always said the jab is as important to a boxer as a paintbrush is to an artist.
Sandalwood and Lobster by Andrew Campbell
Do you like lobster? Hunter asked, and I said yes, because if I said anything else, I wouldn’t be perfect anymore.
The date is at seven, at the seafood place around the corner from my apartment. I ate there once with David, but he paid attention enough to realize that I didn’t like it. But Hunter doesn’t know, and my mouth is shut.
Continue reading “Sandalwood and Lobster by Andrew Campbell”
Full Throttle by Daniel McKay
As the anticonvulsant, antidepressant, and anti-inflammatory cocktail hammered through my bloodstream, I felt my facial muscles gradually unstiffen from their disbelieving grimace. Sleep, the voices around me said, at least for the first week or so. It’s easier.
Top Secret by Tom Sheehan
His name was Maxwell Max Dugan and this is his story, but only covers those disturbing and warful years between 1941 to 1947, just seven years chockfull of battles, combat, explosions, heroic people, deadly people on a world-wide rampage, and means of salvage, at least of the souls, if nothing else.
literally stories 