And so, it had come to this… nothing would ever take him from his steely promise to extract, once and for all, total redemption from his old pal and teammate, Greg Lumbada, payment of the highest order, Amontillado on the instant air. So be it.
Category: Short Fiction
The End Of The Night by Hugh Cron – Adult Content
The coffee boat wasn’t a boat. It was a small building which sat harbour side and sold fast food. From Thursday through to Sunday it was bouncing from around midnight.
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Literally Reruns – Trump’s Bathroom by Adam Kluger
Leila has seen piggies – airborn porkers – this is what she said:
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Ollie-Ollie By Marco Etheridge
I can’t believe what you’re telling me, Danny. I can’t believe Bonnie’s dead. I thought she was way too tough to die.
No one is too tough to die, Dimitri, not even Bonnie. You know that better than anyone. I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but that’s the way it fell out.
One Prisoner Too Many by Tom Sheehan
The sound came once more. He stiffened. It was closer. His whole body knew it was closer. It was not just in the hearing. It approached. It made inroads. It said so. The metal toe. The kick. The slash. Ping Too smiling through his teeth. Oh, would Ping have a thirst for amontillado! Oh, were he himself the finest of stone masons, setting Ping Too up for the full sentence; to make an end of my labor, to force the last stone into place; to set the best of mortar, forever?
Caught between the professor and the captain!
The Witch by Dallas Yates
I burned a witch to death last night. She was a standard specimen: long nose, black hair, broomstick, pointy hat. I looked for a cat but couldn’t find one, which is not unusual. In my experience, few witches travel with their cats. Ditto for cauldrons, wands, crystal balls, and any other magical items you can think of: Witches travel light.
The Sense of Something More by Matthew Hobbs
The silver bullet train slips like mercury through nacreous tunnels; it spikes through brown hills; it plunges deep under the poisoned Thames. The bullet train slides across skyways high in the warm air, a beam of refracted sunlight among the glinting mirrored windows of office buildings shaped like so many onyx, bronze or purple vegetables. Silent, the bullet train glides with great economy at impressive speeds: there is no friction from magnetic rails.
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Festival by Simon Bell
The room is empty. The oak floorboards have a dull shine, the finish spoiled by dusty foot prints and the sad circular stains of glasses consumed. A yet to be attended to feel. The wisps of laughter hang in the air. She was alone.
Literally Reruns – The Business of Saving Souls by Mitchell Toews
Leila has chosen a rerun by another really supportive author and visitor to the site. We are all fans of Mitchell and so this is what she said:
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Week 257 – Misplaced Logic, Motivation And A Meltdown.
Well here we are at Week 257.
There’s been many a time when we’ve commented on an unsuccessful submission and stated that there was no emotion. Or that the emotion wasn’t strong enough. We’ve never once stated that the emotion was too over the top.
That realisation gave me the idea for today’s posting.
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