My stomach growls like a badger as I park my silver Rav4 and walk toward the entrance. As a distraction from the rumbling, I consider the questions I always have when I come here. What is the deal with that iconic red bark mulch? Is it pine mulch that’s been dyed, or is it made from California redwood trees? And, why did Costco planners put the cart corral for incoming shoppers next to the exit door? The cross traffic is a serious problem.
Continue reading “Costco Saturday by Tobi Pledger”
I sit among the dandelions by a black glimmering tombstone. It shines bright and final—never a dull moment. A picture of an old woman glares at me—her trespasser. The sprig of fresh lilacs in the bronze vase speaks of a loved one. A dog stands on the road staring at me.
Continue reading “Still Speaking by Christopher Ananias”
Marco Etheridge (and, now, his son Liam) has a wonderfully twisted POV in his writing. He also knows how to twerk an Edito’s nose, so to speak. You can deride any sort of premise in front of him and we will find a way to turn it into a winner.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Marco Etheridge”
Hello there folks!
Here we are at Week 546. The year is fair flying in!
I’m trying something that I’ve not done before and I hope it works. You see, fingers crossed, this posting will have four clips on it!!
Continue reading “Week 546 -Motorhomes, Fandabbydozzy And Eldorado Has It’s Place.”
I park Nate’s Mustang convertible on the darkest stretch of the bridge, far from the street lamps, where the wind hums an eerie tune through the rails and the thrashing current of the river drowns out any voice of reason. My cell phone shrieks and pierces the competing noises of the night. It’s him. I answer.
“Esther! Where the hell’s my car?”
Continue reading “The Sound of the Spare Key by Zenith Knox”
It’s an April Sunday afternoon, the long, wet, cold winter has not yet relented. Alan sits staring at the blank email on his laptop. He’s meant to be sending a newsy update message to his brother in New Zealand. The rain splatters against the window. His brother was wanting him to come to New Zealand on holiday. Apparently, there’s a beach on the Coromandel peninsula where a hot water spring bubbles up through the sand: you could dig yourself your own hot tub, and sit there watching the tide roll in…
No fuckin’ chance of the Coromandel peninsula this year, bro.
Continue reading “Literary Imitations and Good Mental Health by Michael Bloor”
It was a backyard party with an announcement. Bev’s promotion had been long coming and George Filmore had broadcast invited her coworkers and as many neighbors as he could get hold of. The two groups, unknown to each other and with little in common other than Bev, exchanged oil and water chit chat, slithering off each other without really blending.
Continue reading “The House Guest by Edward Ahern”
“You’re too young to be gallivanting around looking for a job.”
“I’m nearly fourteen,” James puffed his chest out. “And jolly reliable.”
“Who says?”
“My sister.” He switched to a well-spoken accent, “One should always consider James for tasks of this nature. He is excellent and jolly reliable.”
Continue reading “The Milkboy and The Vampire by Michael Shawyer”
“Welcome”, chimed that cheerful and, to be honest, in recent weeks, increasingly irritating voice.
I took a deep breath, what did I really want?
“I can sense you are undecided. Allow me to run through some of the options you have enjoyed in recent visits.”
Continue reading “Here to Serve by Michael Smith”
During the early days of the site, long before I arrived, even pre-dating Tom Sheehan, the original five Editors had to fill many of the empty slots until a backlog was finally secured (currently it holds steady at about three months’ worth).
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Snow by Diane”
literally stories 