Tag: fiction

All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Sweet Boy by Matthew Lyons  – Adult Content

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When they can’t ignore the stink coming from his room anymore, Mom and Dad break the lock on Jeff’s door and go in, prepared, they think, for whatever happens next.  It’s not like they don’t have an idea anyway, they still do all his laundry.  There’s not a sock in his hamper that isn’t stiff and crusty and yellowed.  Mom doesn’t even gag about it anymore it happens so much, she just makes sure to wear latex gloves when she does the whites.

The only thing that doesn’t make sense is why they always smell like sugar.

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All Stories, Latest News

Week 133 – Principle, Discipline And Lactic Acid

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Before I begin, I would like to welcome Nik back from his holiday. He was in Wales doing all things Welsh. As is my understanding he would be eating really, really, roasting, hot loaves, taming a roaming dragon, drinking Merlyn, seeking out a Max Boyce CD and trying to win a chair. They are a mystical race the Welsh.

It is great to have you back my friend!!

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All Stories, Horror, Short Fiction, Writing

A Murder Of Crows by Hugh Cron

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He looked out into the grounds and couldn’t understand the blackness. He thought that it was dead leaves. There had been a storm throughout the night which had unsettled. The dreams had frightened. He became anxious again as he tried to recall. They teased him, they were there hovering near to the edge of his consciousness, without form…disturbing. The Priest gave up and went into his bathroom to shave. The tremor in his hand changed his mind. He rinsed his face and tried to pray, the familiar words, spoken every morning since he entered the Diocese sixty years back were alien to him. They choked him and he felt a tear run down his cheek. It occurred to the old man that maybe he was having a stroke.

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All Stories, General Fiction

A Hero of Sorts by Martyn Clayton

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There’d be silence in the seconds before the explosion. Even the crash and roar, the shifting of the sand and silt above would momentarily cease. Then you’d sit there crouched in the dark wondering what had happened to your breath.  You’d count it in as somewhere ahead there’d be the movement of a body in scurrying retreat.

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All Stories, Horror

God on the Gallows By J. Hagen

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I.

“Dear Lord Jesus – please take care of my mom. Please welcome my papa into heaven, Lord. He was a good man and you’ll see that when you talk to him. Everyone knows it. My mom’s good, too, so please watch over her. She says she doesn’t believe in you – but I do – and I know that she does in her heart. She knows how much you love all of your children and I don’t want to die. I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.”

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All Stories, Horror, Humour

This Goddamn Place by Matthew Lyons

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The fight starts in the kitchen between a couple of chefs, which means it could be about any number of things (drugs, booze, girls, hours, pay), but because Terry and Sean are a pair of obnoxious, stupid assholes, it’s about some soup.  Terry thinks the bisque could use some paprika, but Sean fucking hates paprika.

That’s it.  That’s all it takes to set them off.

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All Stories, Latest News

Week 132 – Coco-Pops, Stationers And Challenges

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I read this week that the average Britain would eat ½ tonne of breakfast cereal in their lifetime. You may think that’s excessive but when you realise what a drug problem we have and how your average chemically dependant person can only really digest cereal, it all begins to make sense. But to be fair, with what they spend on cereal, they save on toilet paper as smack bungs them up. If you can overlook the blood-spray on the walls, you normally find that an addicts toilet is surprisingly clean!

We once were a hardy nation who started the day with porridge, we now have a heroin nation who starts the day with Coco-Pops.

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All Stories, Horror

Legs by Amiel Rossin 

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It was after the toilet scrubber was delivered that she saw them.  It was dark, save for the security lights, and Paula rarely went out at night to collect her online shopping deliveries.  But she’d been trying to find space for the cat tree, the Christmas ornaments, the sea salt, and the egg beaters.  And the attempted organization of her innumerable Internet purchases had left her so exhausted that she’d simply collapsed and fallen asleep for hours.  She’d considered waiting until the next day to open the front door and grab the package, but she’d seen a TV special on no-gooders who stole deliveries right from doorsteps, and she did not want to risk that the scrubber wouldn’t be there in the morning.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Under Cypresses by Karen Shepherd

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With a beard the color of November clouds, the man came in most mornings at seven o’clock sharp when the gas station’s convenience store opened. The electric door chime sounded and he shuffled through in his tufty shoes, schlepping his plastic bag bounteous with empty bottles. The smells of earth, sweat and cypress clung to him.

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