It was still December, but Reggie had a bug up his ass about the high school reunion in June. He didn’t seem the type to me, to organise something so mundane. But he was on the line, breathing heavily, while I examined an ancient list of guests to our long ago graduation party. How the list came into my possession remains a mystery.
No shortage of venues for Literally Stories authors this week as the narrative landed readers on two beaches, Hawaii and the south coast of England (probably), the streets of Vienna, a hellish dystopia on the cusp of apocalypse, and Kipling’s Rottingdean study via Afghanistan.
The soapbox prophets turn to bombs and the lines at the food pantries snake twenty blocks, but my algorithm cranks relentlessly. Markets go up. Markets go down. In either direction, the algorithm wins more than it loses. A few pennies shaved here. A few pennies there.
In makeshift markets, men relentlessly trade. Goods flow. Data flows. The algorithm churns apace. It seems as if the algorithm could function without electricity before it could go without its data. Its appetite is enormous. Its needs are great. Mine seem puny in comparison: a good night sleep. Peace on earth. A kiss goodbye. Safety for my children.
‘I’ve read your tales of India,’ he said, as he sat in my study at Rottingdean, ‘so I thought you might like to hear my story.’
I’d answered a knock at my front door just as my study clock struck midday, and found the man standing on the doorstep. He had looked cold, and oddly distracted.
‘Can I help you?’ I’d asked.
‘My name is Jabez Carter,’ he’d told me. ‘I’ve come a long way to see you.’
Continue reading “The Visitor’s Tale (a ghost story, after Rudyard Kipling) by Robert V. Stapleton”
Overlooking the Staatsoper, the Rathaus, the Parlament and the Burgtheater Johann ticked his finger up and down. The lighting made a group of freshmen look as if they flickered underneath an ethereal golden waterfall. They danced and laughed on the market place, took pictures and were allowed to be free. A girl with blond hair in a white dress caught Johann’s attention. The others talked while she almost tiptoed away. He lowered his finger but stopped it from rising again. Her smile. Mesmerising. He stamped his feet on the wooden floor, watched her move around a street lamp. Graceful and delicate. She’s smiling still. And she came around to the other side, his side, the dress and the hair moved like a C Major played by a violin. Back to C, but from where? Not some place dangerous, some place of comfort and trust. Of the golden waterfall and the blend between baroque and renaissance architecture. Was she even real? Could she disappear at any moment if he just closed his eyes? He raised his finger and closed his eyes. She was gone. And so was the group of students.
The air in Detective Dane Lloyd’s former office hung warm and heavy, like something already used. He glanced at the broken air-conditioner near the tiled ceiling and sighed. His headache was half from the heat and half the beer from last night’s celebrations. His own retirement party for crying out loud, but here he was again, all hands on deck since they called him in at five a.m.
Pearce soon came to realise sleeping on the beach was not as romantic as it seemed, especially when a chill breeze swept in off the sea. The moon above remained bright, piercing the unshielded eye. There was the roar of waves to contend with; the whipping wind that sent a spiral of sand into his face and the ever-present danger of discovery or robbery. A young man out at night presents a tempting target for those aiming to do harm. Not that Pearce encountered any; he was simply paranoid about the possibilities.
”Did you know that The Hobbit has 95022 words?”
“I didn’t. Now, watch your head. You’re taller than I thought. I mean, I’ve only seen your picture-“
“Yes, those are deliberately small. So this is your man cave?”
Nik skipped and yodeled his way to the brewing station. “Here! Look here. Now, wait, let me conduct a little presentation for you, my Swedish friend. Here, is where ale becomes Bale – that’s a Welsh football reference – here, is where a pond of swans becomes Swansea. But enough of my great Welsh puns, HERE, is where the best beer brews, buddy.”
Tobias sniffed and smiled, sniffed and smiled. By now, he was more dog-like than people-like. “So spin me the tail… I mean tale of the beer.”
Continue reading “Tobias Haglund In conversation with Nik Eveleigh”
Once again Literally Stories was delighted to welcome three newcomers to the site this week.
Charles W. Bigelow, Frederick K Foote and Paul Griley.
Before I get to this week’s clutch of writers a small mention for tomorrow’s ‘In conversation with…’ slot, the second of which is entitled Tobias Haglund in conversation with Nik Eveleigh. A certain Mr. S. Crow puts in a guest appearance, too. Storming!
She had initially thought him a good enough guy, someone she could see dating, perhaps with long-term potential. Sure, they had drank too much and had sex on their first date, but it wasn’t like he drank too much and then masturbated while she watched in horror. No, she was a willing, although inebriated, partner in the act. An adult capable of her own decisions. And she thought his reply to her question of what is left if we have sex on the first night was incredible. Everything, he had said. Of course, later, when he had moved into her apartment four months into their relationship, that seemed a little fast in retrospect. But she hadn’t said no, and the decision had made at least financial sense. The rent at her apartment was a fraction of what he had been paying. Now they would be splitting her fraction. A bed monkey, and cheaper rent. She could overlook small issues, focusing instead on the big picture. Besides, she loved him. They were both adults, and could make their own adult decisions. And, importantly, he had two kids from his previous marriage, so he would understand her struggles raising her own son as a single parent. Then there was the fact that he had an actual career, a teacher in fact, he drove a new truck, and, she thought, they made a nice fit.
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