Tag: fiction

All Stories, Editor Picks, Short Fiction

Week 456: Black and Blue Christmas

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It was Thanksgiving in the United States this week. It used to be a major holiday until the monstrosity called Black Friday relegated Thanksgiving to the holiday second division.

Growing up, I recall the day after Thanksgiving being a busy shopping day, but it certainly was not more important than the holiday nor did anyone camp out in front of Kmart awaiting the doors to open at hell o’clock the next morning. The only downside of the holiday was spending time with relatives that you did your best to avoid all the other days of the year–but our friend alcohol usually solved that, one way or another.

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All Stories, Fantasy, Humour, Short Fiction

billigitmania by Leila Allison

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It’s hard to ignore five shadows cast on your desk by as many hovering beings outside the window. I do not know if there is an achievable degree of determination to successfully ignore such a situation; if so, it lies beyond my level of sticktoitiveness.

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Editor Picks, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Week 452: It’s All a Conspiracy; The Real Things and X Marks the File

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The sixtieth anniversary of The Kennedy Assassination is rapidly approaching. It also marks the sixtieth anniversary of my memory because 22 November 1963 is the first certain date I remember (although I hold what are most likely older visions). It is also the sixtieth anniversary of the conspiracy theories that have dogged the event since.

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Short Fiction

Week 431: Going Nuts the Old Fashioned Way

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Traditional Crazy

The Google age has ruined wracking your mind to the point of a breakdown while trying to locate an essentially useless piece of information that you know is in there. I have always been stubborn about asking people questions regarding a forgotten meaningless item; I derive a sense of accomplishment upon at last digging a pointless fact out of the rubble in my mind. I consider such the mental equivalent of the slightly pathetic and disgusting activity of using your tongue to dislodge a morsel stuck between teeth, even though there are toothpicks in the kitchen.

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Short Fiction

Week 423: Tributes, An Easter Eve Recap, and the Book or the Film?

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A Weird Al Tribute Band Will Herald the End of Days

I do not know if it began with Elvis Impersonators or the Beatles, but I’ve noticed that there is a big business devoted to “tribute bands.” All the major groups have at least one, some have many. The Stones, Queen, Led Zeppelin, the Supremes and so on. And some are better at doing the songs than the original artist. The name of a tribute band is usually a song or a phrase associated with the adored object; stuff like “We Will Rock You” and “The Song Remains the Same.” The only difference I see between a tribute band and a cover band is the singular focus of the former.

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Fantasy, Humour, Short Fiction

Ping’s Complaint by Leila Allison

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Ping Beams of Jim

No matter what type of dimension you inhabit, watching and hearing a Moon roll noisily toward you from the sky is an odd thing. Such happened the other night as I was out in the Barnyard shooting the evening breeze with Daisy Cloverleaf the Pygmy Goatess and my Lead Imaginary Friend and second in command of the realm of Saragun Springs, Renfield.

“Ping’s coming down,” Renfield said.

“You hear that? He’s making a noise, like thunder,” Daisy added.

Renfield held a hand to her ear. “Yeah, I think you’re right, Daisy. He sounds like a rolling bowling ball.”

“Hope he’s not attempting a three pin spare,” I said. But I had been expecting the visit.

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All Stories, Humour, Short Fiction

A Conversation About The Sixties by Hugh Cron (Adult Content)

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“I’m fed up watching the news. Seemingly, the queen’s still dead.”

“That’s six months now and they’re still harping on about it. I can’t remember the last time I bought a paper.”

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Short Fiction

Swing by A. Elizabeth Herting

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Be Aware this story has content that some readers may find upsetting

The swing squeaks and bucks high up into the sky, its ancient chains straining against the pull of gravity. The boy shoots his legs out violently, pumping them up as far as he possibly can before falling back hard onto the seat, enjoying the thrill of his body leaving the earth. Rusted metal poles rise up from the ground, wood chips and random debris scattering with every pass he makes. He can’t go any higher, yet keeps on trying, constantly testing his boundaries.

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