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Week 100 – A Celebration Of Two Years

Another week and another wee change. I think we had to.

Week 100!!!

We’ll get to that soon but we wish to begin with what is the most important part in all this, the stories.

This week we had four out of the five stories from new writers!!

Topics are as eclectic (I need to find a new word) as usual. We have Science Fiction, institutionalisation, exploration with failed manipulation, expectations and realism and a continuation. (Try saying that with a few haufs doon ye!!)

As always, our comments follow.

On Monday we were very pleased to introduce Nyx Bean with ‘Her‘. As with all our new writers, we welcome Nyx and wish her every success with her writing. What a cracking week to become involved!

‘This stands out.’

‘Great imagination linking the ‘other world’ with a recognisable earth…and a cat!’

‘Very imaginative.’

Wylie Strout was next up. Same welcome and we will add a hope you all have more for us to all the new folks!

Wylie’s short, ‘The Forgotten Tomorrows‘ was published on Tuesday.

‘Good writing. Wylie captured the loss and hopelessness very well.’

‘She depicts a broken and fragile state of mind brilliantly.’

‘It was an uncomfortable read but it needed to be.’

Our third new writer was published on Wednesday. This is getting repetitive but we welcome and wish Alex Colvin every success on the site.

The intriguingly titled ‘The Flexible Rules Of Anthropology‘ was next up.

‘This was well done and gave me a few laughs.’

‘The historic thinking was a point which he put across very well.’

‘The humour is a deliberate throwback to the explorers of old and their ‘superiority’.

Our fourth and final first time story teller was Louisa Campbell with her bitter-sweet tale ‘Snowflakes‘ which was published on Thursday. Which, I might add was our two year anniversary!! More welcomes, hopes and wishes are thrown at Louisa in a loving way!

‘This was as short as the marriage and she tied in expectations with reality beautifully.’

‘Subtle and really sad.’

‘The secretary picking a stiletto for her was maybe a symbol of what was coming.’

And then came Friday. There is no introduction needed. The one and only Leila Allison finished off a very enjoyable week with ‘A Hundred Year Old Man

‘Another smasher. You go back and continually find something else to appreciate.’

‘So many wonderful lines. They are a joy to read.’

‘Not talking Thursdays should be a real thing!!’

A Message From Us…

Well we got here. One hundred weeks and our two year anniversary on the sixteenth, I reckon we have done ‘no bad!’

We decided on a free hand for each of us to write whatever we wanted but I do reckon that most of us will hit on the same things.

It has been an absolute pleasure to be involved with this and for that Mr West has to be applauded for his initial idea and vision. I hope that we have continued to work to the ethics and integrity and more importantly, the quality that Adam first thought on.

You all may have noticed that he is still absent from the site, but he continues to have family commitments that he is dealing with. We are in contact with him and continually up-date him on what has been happening. Adam not being directly involved is a loss, we all miss him and we only hope that this is temporary. I know that I have to thank him for taking a chance on a rather uncouth individual to be part of this wonderful site. I wish him well and I know that he wants me to pass on his thanks and every success to all of you.

Onto our writers. It has been a pleasure. There are some of you who I can’t believe I am sharing a site with. The talent that I have witnessed is way beyond many commercial successes that I have read. The imagination, description, characterisation and overall skill has been a joy to read.

A run of the green and a roll of the dice is all that you need to elevate from hobby to living. Please remember us when that million dollar deal turns up!!!

The other folks that I have to thank are those who continually comment. We all love a comment and it is great to see that we have a crux of our writers who continually to do so. Some of the reviews and understanding are as good a critique as from any professional. This gives the site a sense of life and community. I still would love it if all the shy ‘Like’ folks would hit us with their thoughts.

I don’t want to mention specific writers as, well, we are a sensitive bunch and none of us are used to rejection!! But I hope that within my comments to you individually, you can understand the respect and regard I have for each and every one of you.

Lastly I have to say a big thanks to my fellow editors for their guidance, advice, tolerance and patience. Their friendship means the world to me.

Well that has been a bit of a love in. Not something I am used to doing as I’ve been married too long and have a list of enemies who have a note of my name!!

Maybe next year we could go with a ‘Who fucked us off’ theme…

Thanks to you all!!

I lift a glass and wish you ‘Aw The Best!!’

Hugh

***

I second everything that has just been said, well maybe not the theme for next year – but then I’m always open to suggestions !

I had no idea, when we first began this thing just what was going to happen. I imagined it would be a small site where we could possibly showcase some of our own work and maybe have some interest and more importantly, input from other authors. What actually happened has amazed and delighted me. We have read hundreds and hundreds of stories, one of the guys can probably tell you just how many, I can’t, numbers are not my thing. But, even more important than the quality and quantity of the written work is the friendships that we have forged.

The editors have been mates for a while, ever since our days on another short fiction site but the circle of friends we have now, among such gifted and prolific writers has enriched my life more than I would have thought possible. I am, I freely admit, a reading nut and a writing fool so, how wonderful to be connected, albeit virtually with this wonderful group of wordsmiths. Thank you all so much for your efforts, your good will, your kindness and your friendship.

And to my fellow editors I just want to say, I love having you guys as part of my life. We have had some sticky times and some hilarious times and it’s all been wonderful. I don’t do writing groups and stuff like that and after doing this with you guys anything else would be second best anyway.

Diane

***

Least but not last. Not only is it fitting for my capacity of coherence but it’s also Sweden’s motto for the Olympic Games. Literally Stories is like a classroom (it’s not at all like a classroom, but follow along anyway). Every week stories appear. We dissect, analyze, discuss, reason, debate, throw paper and chew gum. Since I’m the misfit, I chew paper and throw my gums. We don’t always agree, but often do and it has never been boring. In fear of losing the attention span of the average internet user, I now throw to punch lines.

Fun facts (of varying degrees of comprehension) about me:
I was once voted the most beautiful unjust man. I had to give up the title though. “Tobias just isn’t fair anymore.”

I was once wrongly convicted for death threats after calling too loudly for Diane.

I’m back. I’m hitting my quota. Half a decent joke per post. I traded the other half with Hugh for a glass of pish. My editors deserve a serious ending. They make me smarter, wittier and better. Because they ARE smarter, wittier and better. They are also more helpful; they’re pulling my dim ass to higher levels.

The sincerest and most non-jokingly thank you I can muster

Tobias

***

And after least, comes last. And possibly leaster.

It isn’t a word but it should be.

It’s a quite lovely moment to be able to reflect on one hundred weeks of stories, and two years that have changed my life for the better. As my fellow editors have already noted, we were just a bunch of people who met (virtually at least) via a short story site that was slowly sinking and wondered if just maybe we could put something together ourselves.

I guess we can officially confirm now that we just about managed it.

We live in extraordinary times. If you’d have told me twenty (ten!) years ago that four of my closest friends would be people I’d never met I’d have thought you were bonkers (and then run off to write a story about it) but it’s the absolute truth. Reading stories, sharing thoughts with the editors and having a lot of fun in the process has become as much a part of my routine as gin on my cornflakes.

Their advice on my own writing has been invaluable. The opportunity to read brilliant, imaginative and, on occasion, breathtaking stories on a daily basis is a privilege.

It takes time, effort and a whole lot of unpaid love to keep this place going – but it’s worth it.

Thank you to everyone who has made, and continues to make, a contribution to LS. I can’t wait to see what other tales you have up your sleeve for the next 100 weeks…

Nik

***

Memorable Lines.

Just as an ending folks, we have thought on a few lines that we believe to be exceptional. Yep, we may have missed some and this is all about opinions, but here are those words that have stayed with us from the moment we read them!!

These are few among many but are a tiny example of the excellence of the stories we have the opportunity to share.

***

When do temptations within a man overcome his better angels?

(Adam Kluger – Unprecedented)

Her memories stain the fabric and soul of our home with light and move me to both laughter and tears.

(Nik Eveleigh – Ella’s Ghost)

The coffee is as fine as the morning, as hot as the rising sun.

(Fred Foote – The Hunt)

The cancer done got you, boy. Got you from asshole to elbows. Not much we can do, but wave to you as you go.

(Fred Foote – Goodbye Blues)

In the beginning the days had no names. Jerry chased soap bubbles in the sunshine over freshly-cut grass, while his father strummed the guitar. Life was an easy rhythm of wonders with no conceivable end.

(Chris Wight – Wake Up Jerry)

It’s not clear to me how I would introduce myself were it not for this job.

(Matthew Richardson – A Life On Track)

It’s a hell of a thing to look into a face that knows nobody gives a damn anymore. You see it in stray cats, mostly.

(Leila Allison – A Hundred Year Old Man)

 

All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

A Hundred-year-old Man By Leila Allison

Sighs, echoing laughter, and half-remembered faces that belong to all-forgotten names gather in the pooling shadows of Corson Street; the ghosts gaze at Holly More as he walks alone in search of a hundred-year-old man. No matter how much money Charleston pours into the “revitalization” of the Corson district, its ghosts remain stubborn and continue to luxuriate in the riches of the poverty into which they had been born, thus lived, and brought home from their graves.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

The Forgotten Tomorrows by Wylie Strout

I wondered where the wonder went.  Another bottle of wine, another moment gone, carelessly misplaced along with the forgotten tomorrows.  I picked at the bandage above my eye.

I thought of the millions of self-help books I had read.

“Allow yourself to go to a different place, a better place, in times of difficulties.”

“Embrace your inner child.”

“Breathe.”

“Be kind to yourself.”

“Stay positive.”

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Science Fiction

Her by Nyx Bean

A flashing light signalled that the surgeons had finished their initial examination and it was time to go over their notes. Despite knowing it was useless, I pushed my mind forward and past the wall separating me from the laboratory. First there was merely the reverberation of the ship’s metal, its atomic structure refusing my meddling. I continued to nudge and prod until finally my consciousness slipped through. The professionals clustered around with their assistants, presumably debating their notes while the test subject was showered and clothed. I could only guess. As much as I struggled I still found it impossible to drag out any substantial information. Where I should have been able to link into the surface conversation like a normal individual, I was instead assaulted by jagged lines and heavy static. It did not take long for the sharp pain of exertion to set in. I gave up. It had been pointless from the beginning.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

No is a Complete Sentence by Katy Watson

She knew from the moment that the notion entered her mind that it was surely a terrible one. The odds were too high that he would fully transform. It seemed these days that the slightest annoyance and the stiff orange hair the color of an emblazoned sun would streak the ridge of his spine and he was all claws and jagged teeth. He bit a boy on the playground last week. A smaller boy who’d done nothing more than deny Wallace the privilege of destroying his small diligent sandcastle. It was like watching a Godzilla movie if Godzilla were an outraged baboon decapitating beach condos with shoddy foundations instead of a giant lizard. And then they had all spent three hours staring at the sterile screaming walls of the ER while both boys were tested for rabies.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Where the Air Tastes Like Copper by Lee Conrad

Roscoe Griffin, sheltered by the corner of the three story windowless building, waited for the procession of cars to begin drifting into the parking lot. Morning was just breaking and the autumn sun converted the chemical fumes coming from the stacks on top of the building into a mosaic of colors. Colorful though the fumes were, they held a deadly future. The smell, as the fumes drifted down, made Roscoe’s already nauseated stomach even worse.

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All Stories, Horror, Short Fiction

Mr. Lucky by Frederick K Foote

I’m one lucky son-of-a-gun. I’m not boasting or complaining. I didn’t create my good luck. It was something that just dropped on me. I’m not talking about that fool’s gold good luck of winning the lottery or a bet on the Kentucky Derby. I’m talking about the real meal deal like when you bend down to pick up a dime, and there’s a hail of bullets hitting the wall where your head was seconds ago. My kind of good fortune steers me out of harm’s way, and when I do enter the danger zone, I leave pretty much intact.

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller, Horror, Short Fiction

You Won’t Believe It by Rohit Arora

I was driving at 85. The night was darker than it should have been. There was nothing on the road, not in the windshield, not in the mirrors. I was so sure that we were not coming back. That we would go into the dark and then never appear at the other side of the road. She lay on the back seat staring at me like a voodoo doll. Oh, and she was dead. Did I tell you she was dead? She was. The wind whistled past me through the window like running away from something. The trees beside the road ran back. I looked at her once and she blinked. I turned back and focused on the road.

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