Tag: fiction

All Stories, Latest News

Week 128 – Fathers, Flagsticks and Strictly Perseverance

Nik

The literary legend we know simply as Hugh Cron is taking a well-deserved break from proceedings this week and has entrusted me, his faithful Welsh sidekick, to come up with a few choice words to sum up the week that was at LS Towers*

* not an actual tower – more of a chateau really.

I can neither confirm nor deny if Hugh is adding something extra to his Irn-Bru over the course of the weekend but I can at least confirm that from a roundup perspective what I lack in wit I more than make up for in lack of wit.

Continue reading “Week 128 – Fathers, Flagsticks and Strictly Perseverance” →

All Stories, General Fiction

He Died by A. Elizabeth Herting

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Bob Herting.jpg

He Died

He died on a Friday.

The July heat was already pouring in through the weathered old screen as he perished quietly in his slumber. He’d always insisted upon the open window, even on the very coldest of nights. His wife would wrap herself in layers and layers of electric blankets in those days when they still shared the same room, time and circumstances causing them to slowly drift apart in their sleep.

Thirty-nine years as husband and wife. Decades of laughter and illness, heartbreak, and euphoria gone in the span of a single heartbeat. She would never know what did him in, only that he slept. She found him there in the first blush of morning, leaving the room before turning back and placing her hand gently on the bedroom door. The new day opened up all around her, petals on a withered flower, as she realized they would never see their fortieth year together.  Continue reading “He Died by A. Elizabeth Herting” →

All Stories, General Fiction

Our Hoyles by Kim Suhr

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“Nine hearts.”

Dang. My husband’s always doing that, overbidding me when he knows fool well I can make my bid and he’s got diddly-squat. Of course, nine hearts is the perfect bid—for Ed. If he wins the round, he’s a hero for pulling it off with a hand like a foot. That’s what we call it when our cards stink, a hand like a foot. If we get bumped, he’ll blame it on me, say I inkled wrong, made him think I could get more tricks than I could. Never mind that I bid spades. That won’t make a bit of difference when we replay the hand at the top of our lungs after Dan and Jean have gone home. Either way, nine hearts makes him look good and me look bad.

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All Stories, Fantasy

A Good Day for Nudnik Fish by Larry Lefkowitz

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I prefer my Tel Aviv from the vintage days – before the upper crust skyscrapers disturbed the eyes and the hype the ears, and most of all, before the arrival of the glitzy marina. I berth my skiff wherever I find a bit of sand on the shore that hasn’t yet been taken for private development. Nobody disturbs the boat — it’s been around so long they know it’s mine — vintage, like me. I make it a point to fish with my back to the skyscrapers, facing the horizon.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Anika by Adam Kluger

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“That was some serious stage craft”
“Anika is a serious person”
“I dig her”
“Everybody does–you two should do work together. Anika knows everybody Downtown.
“What an operator.”
“Mm-huh… Anika‘s a major shit-talker”
“She has the gift.
“Tell Anika that.”
“You bet I did.”
“You like her, huh?”
“In love…totally…and that’s a big bag of trouble in a bright-colored wrapper.”
“…and you’re married.”

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All Stories, Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 127 – Insignificance, Velvet Jackets And John Lennon.

gwencron

Before I begin this weeks round-up we have a couple of comments that we wish to make.

Our thoughts go out to our wonderful friend and fellow editor Tobias who sadly lost his father recently.

We all send Tobias our love and condolences.

And unfortunately, we yet again have to say that our prayers are with all those innocents who were caught up in the despicable events in London.

Continue reading “Week 127 – Insignificance, Velvet Jackets And John Lennon.” →

All Stories, General Fiction

The Long Second Chance By JC Freeman

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21 June 1943

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Emma Wick had been beautiful for life. Even at seventy-four she had retained her figure and carried herself with the grace and confidence of someone much younger. For nearly half her time, however, there had been an icy quality about the lady. The few persons who knew her attributed this remoteness to the closely occurring losses of her daughter and husband, many years before. Only Emma knew the truth. She had lost her Mary, who had lived just five years—to a bad case of it having been 1906, more than anything else; but she was the reason why her husband, Robert, lay in his grave since 1907–which was a circumstance that she had never considered anything more than addition through subtraction.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Posterior Rugae by Paul Strong

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The whole thing about bum cracks and manual workers is derided only by people who don’t work hard, physically, and by younger people, thinner people. Alec didn’t care what people thought, what stuff looked like, what was falling apart or falling down as long as it did the job. It’s as much as he could do to pick himself up after bending down to fiddle with something. He picked up, pulled up what he could, when he could. He was at the stage where he had to prioritise physical effort in a very task specific way. After hours, years of hard labour, his time was spent just getting done, anything else was superfluous. It wasn’t giving up, it was getting by. Continue reading “Posterior Rugae by Paul Strong” →

All Stories, Horror

Playing in the Dirt by Z.S. Diamanti

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You must have spent a lot of time in the sun that your hair would copper so. When I was young, my Papa would bring friends home almost every day. Some were fat, some were skinny. Some were men and some were women. My favorites were the boys and girls about the same age as me. It didn’t matter who Papa brought home, I always loved meeting new friends. But none of them had such lovely auburn hair.

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