And here Leila has chosen a wicked piece by Editor Hugh – Stand by.
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Week 322 – On A Hot Summer Night Would You Offer Your Throat To The Wolf With The Red Roses? Shang-A-Lang And The Greatest’s Greatest Line.
Another week has come and gone and we’re still receiving plenty of submissions.
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Rebirth by Martin Toman
John coiled the rope thirteen times around itself to form the hangknot. The ridges of the knot felt strong, almost muscular, in his hands. John knew his knots. Working on farms will make you an expert in practically anything, or anything practical. He slid the noose open and held it at arm’s length, looked at it carefully: it’ll serve.
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An Audience of One by Hugh Todd
First stop was the bins by the pond. He parked the buggy and blew on his hands with little effect, except to bring on a coughing fit. He bent down to pick up a ketchup-stained PFC take away box, fumbling for a moment, edging the carton along the frosted path towards the pond railings. As he picked it up something caught his eye behind the railings; sunlight glinting off a shiny surface. For a minute his heart raced and he wondered if this was the knife from the attack outside the school last week. He instinctively looked around, but at 7:30am on a February morning Clissold Park was desolate. Lloyd was the only soul in there, with just wildlife for company.
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I Love You, Man by Yash Seyedhagheri
Friday night, Nick cranks up his Spotify playlist, a plethora of Tchaikovsky. The Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake, Eugene Onegin.
He’s home on Friday, he’s twenty-six, but he can party.
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Odyssey of a French Swordsman by Tom Sheehan
“Who among you will swear to devote his life to country and crown? Stand you then and be appointed.”
He had stood up on that solemn occasion, had been counted, and subsequently dishonored and disparaged by his entire country, which quickly had gone under a different rule.
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Whacky Ideas by Dave Henson
One morning over coffee, Jessica says she wants us to take a horse to church. My wife doesn’t mean using the animal for transportation. She wants to walk a horse up the steps, down the aisle, and let it stand there during services.
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Literally Reruns – The Violin He Played Downstairs by Ashlie Allen
Leila has chosen a dark and disturbing piece this time. Get yourself a whisky, make sure all the doors are locked and have a look at this one:
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Week 321 – Ted’s Fingering, Lists And A Kardashian’s Nipples.
Week 321.
Whenever I look at that number I remember an old game show that was on the TV late 70s – early 80s.
Ahh nostalgia – It can get us all emotional.
But not with Three, Two, One. (321)
It was terrible.
Continue reading “Week 321 – Ted’s Fingering, Lists And A Kardashian’s Nipples.”
Departure by Callum Rowland
One night, five days before departure:
“I’m not staying for you,” Andrew says.
He lies next to me in bed, his eyes aflame, half-hidden by a lock of hair fallen across his brow. A bead of sweat carves a shimmering trail down his chest.
I prop myself up on one elbow.
“Then why? Soon there will be nothing to stay for.”
“The people, Sarah. Are they not worth staying for?”
I roll my eyes.
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