All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever -Kris – An Essay by Dale Williams Barrigar

In 2006 and 2009, at the ages of 70 and 73, Kris Kristofferson released two classic American folk albums that remain virtually invisible to the population at large, the mainstream media, and the general American culture, much like Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man, who’s THERE but largely un-talked of, or Herman Melville, who half-invisibly spent the last decades of his life haunting the New York streets as a striking, but “unknown,” individual who looked half like a bearded mystic in a rumpled suit, half wandering minstrel just in from the sea. How strange it is to think that he was also probably passing bearded, informally dressed Walt Whitman on the street many times during those days, as writer Harold Bloom has pointed out. One wonders if they nodded to each other.

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All Stories, Editor Picks, Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 553: Sunshine Squirrel v. Pulsar

Perstephanie

The young lady in the second image is “Peerless Perstephanie the Sunshine Squirrel of Twirl.” Her friends call her Percy. She holds the record for being the “spinniest” living creature known to Rodent-kind, and she is currently in training to break the record of fastest spinning object. (This is why she appears to be “shimmering”; or, perhaps, a shaky hand holding the phone contributed to the effect.)

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All Stories, General Fiction

It’s a Little Bit Funny by Paul Kimm

That’s how my mum still says it. Her phrase for anything that’s either actually funny, just unusual, quite mundane, or even a slight bit different from how something might be otherwise. Every time I go back home to see her, and then my dad, I can pretty much guarantee she’ll say ‘it’s a little bit funny’ in regard to something or other, as she has done for years.

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All Stories, General Fiction

In Polite Company at the End of the World by Laurel Hanson

“The serving girl’s run off,” Cathryn said as she set the tea tray down on the blackened linen, “so I’ll be mother.”

Her guests inclined their heads politely and she poured, apologizing for the lack of sugar. “It’s the war of course, not a lump to be had for love nor money.” Her guests murmured softly. They understood, but still, it was frightfully embarrassing not to serve a proper tea. Why, she even had to make do with buttered bread instead of cucumber sandwiches.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Silence That Shaped Me by Torsaa Emmanuel Oryiman

Why would life be so unfair to me? What have I done to deserve all this pain and, hardship? Sometimes I sit alone, lost in the quiet hum of the night, questioning every breath I take, every step I make. I search my heart for answers that never come, and the silence feels heavier than words. 
What sin did I commit to be born into such deprivation?

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Short Fiction

Literally Rerun – It Happens Every Other Sunday By Irene Allison (Leila)

Today we open the Crate of Shame and expose the first story published on the site by Irene Leila Allison (there’s a story behind the name change, but it is dull and not worth further mention). Now that it is out there’s little that can be done but deal with it and hope it eventually crawls back into its lair.

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Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 552 – A Black And White Thief, A Couple Of Questions And Orange Juice.

Week 552

I think I learned something this week that surprised me.

…Should that be ‘learnt’?? I always get those two mixed up.

I was made aware that it’s only British folks who salute a lone Magpie.

Is that correct??

Continue reading “Week 552 – A Black And White Thief, A Couple Of Questions And Orange Juice.”