Are you over eighteen?
Yes.
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. Gerard sips his coconut milk coffee, then places it back on the mint green saucer. At least that’s what I imagine him doing whilst he’s typing away to me on his phone. I picture him trying to hide what he’s doing from his wife and kids as they sit around the sofa together watching a family movie. I picture him feeling embarrassed and adrenalized all at the same time You just look young in your profile.
Leila has chosen a story by one of our hugely talented regulars. Ashlie Allen sends us unusual and intriguing pieces – this is what Leila had to say:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – I Called My Alcoholic Friend Sad Satan by Ashlie Allen”
Before we start with the usual nonsense:
You may have noticed that since Friday the site is changing.
Nik (We wanted to blame someone specifically) is revamping and to be truthful we are not sure what will react with what, so there maybe some glitches here and there.
Please give us a couple of days for the systems and changes to settle down.
If there are any issues with any of the stories for any length of time, we will re-publish them at a later date.
If there is anything that remains a problem for any of you, please let us know and we will kick Nik on the shins.
Continue reading “Week 276 – More Panties, Trusting Opinions And Lillian Selling Bogging Water.”
1.
After my wife died, I volunteered on a crisis line. “You must keep clear limits with callers,” said Marilyn the training coordinator. “Don’t under any circumstances interact with anyone in person.”
I didn’t tell her that my boundaries were non-existent. That’s why I lived mostly alone.
So I only noticed that the door to my tattoo shop had been kicked in after I put the key in the lock. I slid the key into the cylinder and twisted it, but the door didn’t move. Through the tunnel of a receding hangover, I saw that the frame had been cracked near the lock, but the door hadn’t quite been kicked open. I pulled away in surprise, the blood receding to the back of my head, and looked around. A shard of the door frame lay on the ground, cleanly broken away. The glass next to the lock was undamaged. It was too early for this shit.
Sadie puts a bottle of white wine in the fridge before she goes out for a long run. She figures that if the run doesn’t help purge her of the toxins from the day then maybe the wine will. And if that doesn’t work she always has that fifth of bourbon on the bookshelf that girl from work gave her for Secret Santa, red bow taped to the top, and a few oxy left over from her thumb surgery last summer stashed at the bottom of the clothes hamper. But she figures the run, or the wine, should do just fine.
It was Nelda’s virgin adventure in ordering from East, a website with ridiculously low prices on electronics. All the goods were from China and took weeks or months to arrive. Reviews of East noted that each order was a surprise package ranging in quality and value from outstanding to profoundly disappointing. The reports also stated that returns were not practical, and that technical help was nonexistent.
The slippery slipper slipped from my hands. The glass leaving its bloody traces; a path of dark red leading to absolutely nowhere. Straight into silent nothingness. How fitting! My vision blurred, my skin scarred and my life shattered into tiny pieces. Every time I tried to pick them up, to put them back together, they cut me again and I could hear the devil’s familiar laugh paralyzing my everything. My life rejecting me. Still, I was weirdly proud that I did this all to myself. All by myself. I didn’t need a Prince Charming to do the shattering. I was perfectly capable of ruining my own life.
A new participant in the Rerun event. Thank you so much Frank Beyer. This is what he said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Stocks and Futures by John Visclosky”
Well here we are at week 275.
I’ve written quite a few short stories but I think I’ve only ever written one about a serial killer.
I didn’t really go into any technicalities, it was all about the aftermath.
Something happened this week that shows me that I’m not suited to do the type of research that is needed.
Continue reading “Week 275 – Deviant Pastimes, Hellish Duets And RIP Lentil The Cat.”
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