Three thousand days in and America is still counting.
Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it feels that way.
You wouldn’t see that happening in Britain. Our powers that be are a lot more organised than that. Well maybe not so much organised, but for every day not being in power is expenses that they are missing out on and children that they aren’t molesting.
Continue reading “Week 298 – Perfect Poaching, A Gorgeous Glare And A Respectful End.”
The old man with the thin black moustache and neatly pressed white shirt stood at the back of the line. The line of men, women and children crowded tightly on the side of Waterloo Road, stretching from the entrance of the rum shop past four houses. Often cars drove past, forcing everyone to squeeze right up to the edge of the small drain which ran alongside the road. The old man swayed slightly as he shifted his weight between his feet.
Continue reading “The Elephant and the Milk by Sean Maraj”
Here we are at Week 297.
There were some comments between us this week that made me think on meaning of story.
We are all three people.
Continue reading “Week 297 – A Trio Of Being, Being Shit With Charcoal And Worry For The Silent.”
A gecko named Keeler escaped her enclosure about twenty minutes after Renfield had brought her home from the pet shop. Keeler didn’t care for the transparency of her new digs and decided that her happiness lay in a blended existence with the walls, furniture and such in the haunted Stoker-Belle household. You see, Keeler didn’t think of herself as a gecko; she self identified as a Karma Chameleon.
Continue reading “The Karma Chameleon and the Diplomaniac: A Feeble Fable of the Fantasmagorical (Season Two Opener) by Leila Allison”
I’ve always liked Gin.
Straight gin that is.
I know exactly where it started…My love for the gin.
I used to go to my mum’s boss’s house with my parents and I was allowed the odd can of beer. One night that we were there, his old aunties were visiting.
Weird they were.
“Letti the Yeti. Letti the Yeti,” the children chant.
… “Mama, what’s Yeti?”
“The Yeti is a monster, Letti. It’s also called Bigfoot.”
Adam was the founding member of Literally Stories, as such he has his own cupboard in the dungeons at LS Towers. Access requires a special key, a code and a bribe for the hunchback guardian. Apparently Leila has stolen the key, guessed the code and we just don’t know what she gave the hunchback!! Anyway – she found this:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Mr. Zimmerman Flies to Buenos Aires (Economy Class) by Adam West”
Before we start I want to advise that we have updated Tom Sheehan’s Author CV page.
He’d actually sent in a piece about his life and writing journey as a submission but we wanted to have it somewhere where it was always available, hence the idea of putting it onto his page.
It’s worth a look to give you an understanding of our most prolific writer and who he is, where he came from and what has inspired him over all these years.
Continue reading “Week 296 – A Journey For A Gentleman, A Sign For The Ridiculous And A Sore Arse For A Pensioner.”
Nina and I were just kids when we started running into oncoming traffic. Dodging cars was something that felt natural – a part of growing up, facing demons we didn’t know we had. We’d sit on the low curb, flicking crisps into the gutter like cards into a top hat, then as we heard the rumbling of a car approach, we clamped hands and dashed into the street. We experienced short spurts of ecstasy, drifting away on a sublime high and yet the feelings were short-lived, elusive.
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Murphy Conway was half Albert’s age and twice his size, but all Murphy had to do was look into the pieces of flint that were Albert’s eyes to know he could never take him, even if he did him dirty and started it from the side.
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