This story has been removed at the request of the author.
Category: Short Fiction
I Was A Roulette Wheel by Len Kuntz
They started with darts because they could, because Mom and Dad were gone again, off selling clouds to mountains that didn’t need them.
Literally Re-Runs – Before We Started Worrying by Martyn Clayton
Leila has dug out another super piece from the dungeons. This time it’s from way back in 2015 and it’s a dark and disturbing little story. This is what she said:
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The Crying Man by Marco Etheridge
He comes at me like a small windmill of anguish, arms churning the air as he rolls forward. And he does seem to roll rather than walk. His chubby torso moves up the narrow sidewalk as the background slides away. There are two planes of focus sliding in opposite directions, each sharp and defined. I am trapped in a Spike Lee movie; an extra in one of his double dolly shots.
Literally Reruns – Conscious Coward by Vic Smith
Leila has been down the mine again. This time she has unearthed an old piece that she felt was well overdue for a rerun. This is what she said:
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Literally Reruns – The Manufacturing of Sorrow by Bob Thurber
Ever reliable, even at great personal cost! Leila Allison has offered up another suggested Rerun which apparently focuses her attention on that which she would rather ignore, and this is what she said:
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The Female Bukowski? by Kathryne Cherie
The night started out with 2 racists in the Middle East Nightclub & Bar on the South side of Cambridge. Each man on the wrong side of a real bore of an argument. The spit that flew off their tongues stained the fabric of this particular dimension. The one we selfishly call ours.
Literally Reruns – The Time My Dad Chewed out a Cop by James Hanna
This Sunday Lelia Allison has chosen a story by a regular contributor and friend of the site – James Hanna and well and his Dad I guess – this is what she said:
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The Making of a Love Letter by Richelle Co
Natalie’s legs are splayed on the floor, flexing up and down as she rubs a crayon against a sheet of pad paper. Most of her crayons are snapped into countless pieces, grimy from rolling across the floor. But not this one. It’s the prized pink crayon reserved only for princess’ dresses and decorative hearts, and today she is working on a heart that is too difficult to fill. Still, she does not flinch as she grips the crayon, diminishing it layer by layer onto the paper.
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Week 215 – Annoyances, Diane’s Angry Anger And Dead New Opportunities For Lawyers.
Another week and another realisation that no matter what horror we can imagine and write about, real life is much more horrific.
To all involved in New Zealand, we send our heart felt sympathies.
literally stories 