She holds up her hand to the bathroom window, feels cold air piercing. Early morning, still dark, the children asleep. She unspools a strip of foam, one-handed. At her feet, a diagram displayed on her mobile phone. Using a screwdriver, she pries off ragged remnants of the original weather-stripping. When she stretches to reach the top rail, her ribs ache.
Continue reading “Safe House by Alain Kerfs”
A red phone box stands alone in the middle of a field. Long grass and wildflowers surround it and little else. I make my way over; glad I’m wearing my wellies. I avoid the cow pats along the way and bat a couple of flies from my face.
Continue reading “Dial 1 for Heaven by N J Delmas”
Curtis Glide, a student of people, satisfied with his findings of them as “passable'” Even as a millionaire, the gained acceptance came as encouraging to where the heroes show themselves in a hurry, lest they lose the gain.
Continue reading “All-Souls Hangout by Tom Sheehan”
Week 515 is my first posting of 2025.
Hope everyone had a brilliant New Year!!!
It was just after the bells when I thought on something. My mum had been a wee bit upset, understandably, she gets this way at this time of the year since my dad died. I think all of us who have lost folks do and let’s be honest, it gets worse each year, not better, cause there is always someone else to add to the list!
Continue reading “Week 515 – House Fog, Twenty Players No. 6 And Exercising The Grey Matter.”
Tonight, a strong man died in Belfast.
We had been on the site for three days. Day one, up went the big tent. The rigging, lights, safety nets and everything else that goes into putting on ‘the show’. Day two, the dress rehearsal and an opportunity for those of us who needed it, to get clean. A chance for those of us who needed it, to score. Day three was opening night. We were set up on the outskirts of Andersonstown. Out of the way, on a plot of land that had been raised to the ground under the promise of social philanthropy only for the plans to cool and the memories to fade. Now it’s little more than uneven concrete and free parking. That’s how Mal got it for the week for so cheap. It should have been a risk this far out, but people are the same everywhere. You put enough curiosities in one place and they’ll come out of wherever they’re held up to look at them.
Continue reading “Andytown by David Louden”
Disturbing content – see tags at the bottom of the page.
Gil doesn’t talk, just sits there drawing demons. Mr. Ny clapped his erasers together and called Gil to the blackboard for one of his impossible Geometry theorems. Gil snatched up the chalk, like a pissed-off Picasso, and made quick hard chalk-chalk marks, and it was solved. The last bell rang and the mad dash.
Continue reading “After Lloyd by Christopher J. Ananias”
Charlie felt her stomach sink to her toes as she pressed her trembling finger against the weathered doorbell. It was 2 a.m. His shades were drawn. Maybe he was asleep. Please, God, let him be asleep. She clutched his novel to her chest, smothering the cover reading ‘Melting Hearts’. Such a stupid, sappy title for a Molotov cocktail. She hadn’t even remembered to put on shoes when she grabbed her keys and fled. The fire of rage roaring in her chest during the drive over had smoldered into ash the moment she’d unbuckled her seatbelt. Now, she cowered barefoot on his shadowed stoop, gasping as the hall light flicked to life and the door before her creaked open.
“Charlotte?”
Continue reading “A Familiar Conviction by Maiah Jezak”
Ray Dragon’s writing career had fallen hard after his first book, Loving Them Madly, in which Ray detailed the gruesome murder investigation of three young women near the Oberlin College campus with a vivid imagination; now, he was running dry. He wrote a series of travel articles for This Our World, in which he only traveled with a mouse and Google, but the magazine failed before he got a check.
Continue reading “Out There by Ed N. White”
Returning from the bathroom for the second time that night, her eyes heavy with sleep, Helen squinted down the dark hallway at the faint white glow coming from the kitchen.
Did I forget to turn off the light? she wondered.
Continue reading “Helen’s Kitchen, 3:30 a.m. by Brian Clark”
Since he joined us on the site Dale has submitted some great prose. He is outstanding as a commenter and a pleasure to communicate with. Thank you Dale. Here for the Sunday treat we have another of his fascinating and enjoyable reviews. We give you:
Continue reading “Writers Reading – Dale Williams Barrigar”
literally stories 