It won’t be long until our 300th post.
Any of you who have been reading those anniversary ones will know that we normally have a section on memorable lines. This year will be no different.
Category: Short Fiction
Turtle Beach by Paul Blaney
The first inkling Frank had of the change that would overtake him came on the drive down. He was in the back seat, his hip aching from hours on the Interstate, listening to a radio show about snow geese migrating from the Arctic, big flocks miles high but always along the same route: migration corridors they called them. And all of a sudden Frank was up there flying among them, mile after airy mile in unison. Who knows how long it lasted before Kathy turned and spoke to him, words he didn’t catch but that startled him back down, into his body? He shook his head, a horse throwing off a fly; he was a practical man, not given to daydreaming. ‘How long till lunch?’ he asked Kathy who asked Tom who wanted to get another hundred miles at least.
Literally Reruns – Trigger by Doug Hawley
Leila has been spending so much time down in the dungeons of LS Towers we are worried that she might be sleeping down there. Not to worry, we’ll make sure she has plenty to eat and drink. This week she has nominated a piece by an old friend of the site – this is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Trigger by Doug Hawley”
Week 288 – Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychyrndrobwillantysiliogogogoch, Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia And Pneumonoultramicroscopicsicicovolcanoconiosis.
(Diane, I’m sure you are bored into distraction by my predictable childishness!!)
Well here we are at Week 288.
On last weeks post, I promised Diane that I would cut the title down to four words.
I, being a total nipple end had a look at the longest word in the English language and I found it to be the chemical name for a Super Protein called Titin at around one hundred and ninety thousand letters. What a piece of nonsense, surely there has to be an alternative, could I suggest we just use Titin. Who the fuck would give up the three hours of their life that would be needed to say it?
The Traveling Circus by Adam Dorsheimer
Looking back on my youth is a strange and depressing rush of hospitals and doctor’s offices. Even my bedroom, with what little time I spent there, was a bare, clinical space, with untextured white walls broken up only by the odd poster and my calendar that I kept long after its year had passed. It was weather-themed; each new month brought new storms and natural disasters, lightning bolts and tornadoes and the like. But on the first of November, I turned the page to find something different. The photograph showed a black lake, pieces of ice strewn around, and up above there were these magical green trails etched into the sky. This gorgeous respite from the storms of the previous months had a powerful effect on me, and by the time the month was over and I had to turn the page to see yet another bolt of lightning I felt a kind of sadness, a longing for it to be November forever, if only just to see those northern lights.
Week 287 – Truly, Utterly, Unbelievably Improving Just Like Booze Does To Self-Belief, There’s Nothing Worse Than The Taste Of A Rancid Sausage And Bastards Who Are Never An Exception.
Well here we are at Week 287.
I had a look at the historical events of this week.
I see that Major Boaby Ross set fire to Washington. That wasn’t very nice and was a bit hypercritical. The British are still burning effigies of Mr Fawkes for trying to do the same sort of thing just over two hundred years earlier.
Funeral Crashers by Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri
My older sister Nancy and I love funerals. We go at random every weekend, ingratiating ourselves into the crowds, the friends, the family. We pretend to weep with the mourners, while we absorb things with the coldness of detectives, me in an oversized suit, borrowed from Dad. Nancy in one of Mother’s nice black gowns. We love the darkness, the garb, the somberness. The people gathered together, mothers and children, cousins, nephews, people with connections we cannot fathom. Being so close to darkness, a kind of whirl, excitement. We don’t know dead people, the wildness of loss. Mother and Dad are divorced, but that’s different. They wear fedoras and lavender and false civility. Even our grandparents still live, regaling us with tales of meeting Teddy Roosevelt and other trivialities.
Continue reading “Funeral Crashers by Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri”
How to Write a Hit Song by Les Bohem
Laying the Groundwork for a Hit
- Choose between digital or physical production.
- Select a theme.
- Draft lyrics that are timeless.
- Split your lyrics into syllables on staff paper.
Composing a Hit
- Set the tempo.
- Write the bass line.
- Design a catchy melody.
wikiHow, “How to Write a Hit Song”
Literally Reruns – February by Nik Eveleigh
Leila has chosen a thoughtful piece for this week’s Rerun, emotional and deep – it’s time Nik got his pen out again and sent us some more of his wonderful writing – This is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – February by Nik Eveleigh”
Week 286 – Keeping It In The Family, Roger Mellie Is A Legend And A Beast Without A Moustache.
Here we are at Week 286
The year is fair flying in.
We sometimes say to submitters to try relevant sites if their work is specialised, or if it is a genre that we don’t publish. But the one thing we don’t do is give out suggestions to where someone could place their work.
To be truthful I don’t think either myself or Diane have much knowledge of any other fiction websites.
literally stories 