Pa decided to join the Bonus Expeditionary Force. After dropping Ma and the youngsters off at Uncle Vernon’s, he let me ride the rails with him from our home in Waynesboro, Pennsylvania, all the way to the Washington Freight Yard.
Category: Short Fiction
Buying My Mam Some Smack by Reynard Laverna.
Human Alarm Clock
‘Could you just leave me alone for an hour please? I need some sleep before school.’ I say and I close the bolt on my door. I jump into bed fully clothed. Know I won’t get any sleep and she won’t leave but I pull the blanket over my face regardless.
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Hans By Hugh Cron – Warning – Strong Language.
Hans returned home from the pub.
He stomped up and down on the bare floorboards of his living room. He grinned as he thought about the neighbours moaning at the noise but never complaining.
Hans turned on the radio, it was more static than station. He settled down on his white painted kitchen chair that sat in the middle of the living room. It was cold. The wind whistled up through the floorboards. He pulled the collar of his donkey jacket higher and pulled his cap lower and then put his hands into his pockets. He shut his eyes to sleep.
Something woke him.
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Week 279 – Fulshaw Crescent, Steve Nicol Played For Ayr And Dumbledum, Dumbledum, Dumbledum Vegetable Garden…Dumbledum, Dumbledum, Dumbledumdum…Corn!
Well here we are at Week 279.
Whenever I see the number seventy nine it makes me think of my first address that I remember as a kid. From there I realise that I can also remember our first phone number.
Firsts are good to bring to the forefront every now and again and I’m sure that many a first has inspired a story. (Or maybe an arrest.)
Phillip’s Recipe for Lamb Stew by Max T. Beckman
The end of the world wasn’t so bad. It began with an argument between some self-important people who had a bit too much responsibility. It escalated. The end of the world was loud and hot and bright. Most people dried almost instantly to a pink Himilyan salt, their crystals scattered to the wind. Some took longer, their skin blackened like the crust of a wood fired pizza. Still, some survived, parts of their limbs and flesh melted like a mild gruyere cheese. No, all this was not so bad. It was the lack of good food.
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An End Resolved by Hope Matyas
You feel it in your soul when the notes swing low and tumble over themselves after a hovering vibrato. The brass sax breathing warm air from wet lips, waiting to create a new feel.
Literally Reruns – The Deep End by Sarah Dara
Leila has been passing some of the lock down – locked down. Down in the dark entrails of LS towers. When the noise of her hammering on the doors became too disturbing we let her out and gave her a bite to eat and a little drink. She brought this piece up with her and this is what she said:
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Literally Reruns – I Called My Alcoholic Friend Sad Satan by Ashlie Allen
Leila has chosen a story by one of our hugely talented regulars. Ashlie Allen sends us unusual and intriguing pieces – this is what Leila had to say:
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Malaise and Benediction by Tom Sheehan
“Guess who’s sitting in front of me right now?”
My wife Beth was calling from work, from the nursing home where she’s been a hospice nurse and head of an Alzheimer’s ward for a number of years. She is without doubt the most compassionate woman I have ever known. While the dignity of patients come first with her and as much pain-free existence as she can possibly imagine for them, coming towards the end in most cases, she can nevertheless get rocked by hard associations. It is her curse in life, but, of all the women I have met, she is best equipped for this task.
Gina And Gary by Hugh Cron – Warning Adult Content.
In her mind she kept repeating, ‘It’s something to share, it’s something to share…’
Gina didn’t let the whisper of guilt niggle at her. She’d been thinking on this for a few years but her conscience screamed, not any more.
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