I always feel awkward in social situations with strangers. I guess everybody does. But for some reason when I find myself at that point, my reaction is beyond control: I start lying like a madman.
Continue reading “Submarines, Like Ships in the Night by Steve Sibra”
A.M.I. (Adverb Mass Index): 45.74% (last reading, till it blew)
8 December
James Thrurber’s Birthday
I was at my desk avoiding my latest work of innovative genius by attempting to see the world the way James Thurber must have–with one eye shut and the other peering through a monocle devised from the punt of an unwashed pint. A childhood accident blinded Thurber in one eye; soon after sympathetic ophthalmia set in and slowly drained the light from the other. Yet before darkness fell for keeps, Thurber became almost as well known as a cartoonist as he was a writer.
Continue reading “Everyday I Ro Ro Ro in Zee Hay by Leila Allison and Daisy the Pygmy Goat”
Nick stares at pennies glimmering in the fountain by City Hall. Watches the shadows and sun mingle with water, a turquoise dream.
They seem to beckon him, these neat metal circles with Lincoln’s face. People throw them in all the time, trying to fulfill wishes, so his sister Nan says. She says they wish for stupidity but Nick can’t blame them, even if wishing seems like a waste.
He reaches in, slowly picks up a small handful of pennies, feels their weight. People hate pennies, but they add up to so many things.
Continue reading “Desperate Cents by Yash Seyedbagheri”
In the interests of fair play lovely Leila has been concentrating on the female authors for a little while. We have met Jennie Boyes a few times on the site and she has some great pieces in her catalogue:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Wishbone by Jennie Boyes”
I was going to do something about procrastinating this week but I couldn’t be fucked.
I think I’ll ask Diane to put the read more tag after the next sentence so I can warn ‘The Sensitives’, I was going to call them Fuckwits and in a way, I suppose I have.
WARNING – Blasphemous Material – Do not read on if you are of a religious persuasion and likely to be offended. If you read on and are offended – Well – I told you!!!
Continue reading “Week 318 – A Sensitive No-Go Area, An Itch That Couldn’t Be Scratched And Jesus Body-Popping To ‘My Diane’ (He Nailed It)”
When I stirred from my slumber, one of my arms felt like it had been trapped beneath my body for several months, and I shook it back to usefulness as the door opened. The last three heroes to visit had been males of their respective races, so a thrill ran through me as a young woman appeared on the threshold to my chamber. Her need had summoned my room, connecting it to her world through an otherwise ordinary door and calling me to action as the angel of lost relics.
Continue reading “Relics by Michael Helvaty”
The cathedral clock across the street from Nick’s home rang out the hours, the quarters. The clock chimed out his life, the Westminster Quarters and memories floating from the august belfry, the huge bells hidden inside, the clock ticking. The clock Nick once tended to.
Continue reading “The Flight of Time by Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri”
I first started drawing when I was a kid, staring up at popcorn ceilings, trying to make sense of the symbols I saw there. I created comics about a fox that lived in the midst of the shapeless blurs of styrofoam. I don’t draw foxes anymore. Instead, I draw people I’ve met, making them ugly as sin and arguably very realistic.
Continue reading “To Tame the Animals by Rose Ragsdale”
“What’s your name?” James asked the hostess.
She furrowed her brow, “Claire. Do I know you?” She donned a small, professional smile.
“No. Readers like knowing the names of the characters. If I just call you the hostess over and over, they’ll get detached from you; it’ll annoy them.”
“What?” Claire asked.
Continue reading “Ellen and Elise by Brent Holmes”
Life has hammered me.
I take another drink and lean over my balcony.
Balcony, that’s a fuckin’ laugh, it’s the breadth of my two feet and the stink from that clatty bastard two doors down makes me gag. They’ve a wee Jack Russell that they allow to shit on the balcony instead of taking him a walk. The wee soul needs to climb up a shit mountain to take another shit. When he’s having a crap I can look him in the fucking eyes.
Continue reading “Maisonette by Hugh Cron – Warning Strong language and Adult content.”
literally stories 