Loyal site friend, Paul Kimm, is rightfully known for his comments and support for our writers–but he is a first rate author himself. Paul has a winning touch that comes off effortless, which is usually indicative of a writer who has worked tirelessly on a piece to achieve that effect.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Our Harbour by Paul Kimm”
Week 531 is now upon us.
I would like to start with a wee add-on regarding the subject of the Tech-Firms. There have been a few demonstrations and meetings this week regarding privacy laws that won’t allow parents to access what their kids have been looking at on the web. Sadly this is requested after something happens. Now, I might be making a tit of myself as I know less than nothing about all this, but is it beyond technology to remove the remove history application from domestic (For want of a better word) computers?
Continue reading “Week 531 – Could Someone Show Me, A Plethora Of First Timers And Could They No Just Ring A Bell??”
Patty P., was heading home after shucking corn when she heard hammering coming from the tobacco barn. She peered through the wide slats in time to see her dad grab a handful of cash from an army duffle bag and toss it into a square pine box, over and over. She stepped back confused. They were poor, and had always been poor.
Continue reading “You Can’t Take It with You! By W.H. Forshee”
My father used to tell me, ‘One day, my sweet, King Arthur will return to save the kingdom from peril, and all will be right again.’ Clasping blankets up to my chin in the dim twilight of a bedroom lit only by the light in the hallway, I’d drift off to sleep, dreaming of the mighty King’s return. There was a location of his reappearance too – Cadbury Castle – though when I went there in my preteen years, I was sad to find no castle. Any evidence beyond the mounds and ditches of prehistoric civilisation had gone, and nothing sparkled enough to grasp my interest. Despite this, I hoped for his return. A wish, like believing in the tooth fairy or Father Christmas, that this being, just this one mythical being, would be real.
Continue reading “King Arthur Is Dead by Kathryn Hatchett”
He smells late-spring grass.
Cold, wet dew caressing his cheek, Stanley blinks rapidly for focus. In dawn’s peachy glow, he is face-deep in dandelions and the lengthy shadows of his white picket fence.
Continue reading “Manifesting Raspberry and Apple by Lincoln Hayes”
On Sunday! See you on Sunday! I await you all. He called out, his voice brimming with unrestrained cheer.
What’s happening on Sunday? Someone would ask him with a mocking smile.
Continue reading “The Man with The Frozen Clock by Georgia Xanthopoulou “
I try to learn one interesting fact a day. It’s best when this happens naturally. A dollop of Fairy Liquid ingested over a period of a few weeks will cause serious sickness. Dollop was Melanie’s word. It was unlike Melanie. Almost onomatopoeic.
Continue reading “Orders of Magnitude by Kieran Wyatt”
A Prayer For Owen Meany
John Irving
1989
I found this novel lying outside my door about ten years ago. I still don’t know who put it there, but whoever did it had a unique taste.
Continue reading “Writers Read: A Prayer For Owen Meany”
A Word is Born
Human friction is often caused by a powerful negative response to something another person says is true. An exchange of loud exchanges of not listening to the other person occurs. You see it in bars all the time. Words spill from mouths, fists fill the temporarily emptied maws and loosened teeth are the innocent victims. Dentists prosper. Yet the situation is usually considered resolved.
Continue reading “Week 530: Tuncking; A Warning From Diane About More Corporate Slime Trails; Six Gems and Some High End Funny Bizness”
Big Benny Brailsford was slumped on the couch with a can of lager. More in hope than expectation, he was zapping the TV channels with the remote, it being The Early Evening Viewing Desert. He eventually settled on one of those antiques programmes. The expert on the TV was riffling through some old duffer’s collection of football memorabilia. The collection included an early F.A. Cup Final programme, which the expert reckoned was worth five hundred to eight hundred quid.
Continue reading “Family Heirlooms by Michael Bloor”
literally stories 