All Stories, General Fiction

The Ice of Old Lily Pond by Tom Sheehan

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The man was raw-boned, sleek, could skate like the wind that blew out of Canada on days like these around the corner of Appleton and Summer Streets, near cliff faces where the Montreal Tunnel holds forth. His hair was dark, his eyes held stories recessed and reserved, but he wore a magnificent pair of hockey gloves. Great, shiny black elegant things, tools of the trade. If he stood still, you’d swear you could smell the new leather of them.

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Latest News, Short Fiction

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeelll, (I checked Phonetically) Chic Young Is A Legend And Who Wants A Pasty When You Can Fuck A Sophia Loren?

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Well, we are now at Week 304.

I hope everyone had as good a Christmas as possible.

I do think that today, not the day that I am writing this, but the day that you are reading it, unless it is any other day than the day that it was posted, is the most depressing day of the year. It feels like those depressing Sunday nights where Monday mornings loomed.

Maybe it’s just me and I don’t know why I feel that way. Maybe something happened to me in a past life.

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All Stories, Short Fiction, Writing

Happy Christmas

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It’s been a funny year but we want to thank everyone for their support and their company. There would be no site without you. Whatever you are doing over the next few days, even if it’s nothing very much we wish you joy and peace and of course good health.

All the very best from Literally Stories.

Banner Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay 

Village Image by Louise Dav from Pixabay 

All Stories, General Fiction

Always Remember to Shift by Jessica R. Clem

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My mother’s cadence on the bike has always been impressive. She can seamlessly glide from first gear to third without breaking her stride. The sound of her chain effortlessly shifting sounds like fingers snapping a melody. We ride together on a winding dirt road. We are going incredibly fast considering her mountain bike is a heavy beast. The tires are wide and fat. But it is a cheerful red color. It is the color of tricycles and little wagons. Though she is only thirty-six, it is odd to see her on something that calls to youth.

Especially since she is dying as we ride.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Boundless Growth by Simo Tchokni

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‘And all of this is replicated across twenty datacenters.’

With a flourish, Davide draws a large rectangle around the messy, sprawling diagram he’s drawn on the whiteboard. He turns around. ‘Any questions?’

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All Stories, General Fiction

Quarters by Meg Croley

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He was seeing another woman, a woman who was not his wife, which admittedly was a little disorienting. What was he gaining that wasn’t already given to him by me or the wife (the wife never called him daddy). He hadn’t replied to my texts in three days, and I was about to announce a fake pregnancy. Then she called.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Rough Immersion by Tom Sheehan

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The mirror folds in on itself. Images separate. At seven years of age I was drowning! It was simple as that. Water, water everywhere and not a drop I should drink. Cut the crap, I thought. It’s not funny. It was strange, my mind still working, conjuring images, associations, and the pressures coming to bear.

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Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 303 – The Leader Of The Rat-Pack, Three Barrels Is Minging And Popeye’s Obvious Love For Power Ballads.

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And it is now Week 303.

Before I forget I need to let you all know that we are not stopping for Christmas. We will be posting stories all through.

The reason is quite simple, we are around ten weeks in advance and if we had stopped publishing that would have taken us over a three month waiting time which we don’t want. We would like to stay between eight and ten weeks if possible.

The only thing to be aware of is we may not be about as much as normal but if you submit or comment, then we will get around to answering and authorising.

Continue reading “Week 303 – The Leader Of The Rat-Pack, Three Barrels Is Minging And Popeye’s Obvious Love For Power Ballads.” →