
“Whatcha reading?”
“Moby Dick”
“Yeah, I like that one… read his others?”

“Whatcha reading?”
“Moby Dick”
“Yeah, I like that one… read his others?”

My expectations and excitement were dampened by the cold coffee and replaced by a creeping realisation of an inevitable disappointment. I kept glancing around as people rushed along the pavement, but it was late – she wasn’t coming. We agreed to meet at the Café at half past six and in my jacket pocket I had an envelope with five hundred Euros in fifties, which I promised for the final payment for her painting. A piece of art that I found hypnotic, it was a scene depicting a battle of female sexuality and a vision of erotic conjecture. I couldn’t help myself, I had to have it. Last night, I paid her a deposit of three hundred Euros.
He wakes with a start. The mug is there as always but the message this morning reads like some terrible urban legend.
Your wife is dead it says.
Squirrel was a little under average tall and railly. Mostly crooked teeth. Reddish hair, oily. Everbody started calling him Squirrel back in high school. He didn’t mind so much. Better’n Twerp from earlier on. One night Squirrel goes to the Tap Bar, and Big Ed’s wife, Ellie Lynn, is there without Big Ed. Ellie Lynn looks like she’s had a few so Squirrel goes an sits by her. Ellie Lynn seems real happy for Squirrel to buy her a few, and he has a few himself. Well, to cut to it, Squirrel and Ellie Lynn end up closin the place and goin to his truck to get at it. After finishin, Squirrel says to Ellie Lynn “Let’s do this again sometime, wanna?” Ellie Lynn don’t say nothin. She just gets outta Squirrel’s truck and walks off laughin and pullin up her pants.
This is weird as I have no inspiration on what to write. I’m hoping that I can write my way into something.
I think all of us here at Literally Stories have done this once or twice when trying to decide on a story. We write down our thoughts, our reasoning and that eventually helps us decide.
So here goes.
Continue reading “Week 88 – Bingo, Sean Connery And Equal Ground”

It was on a summer night that Suki jumped out of that train and into that basement, not a winter one. She remembers the stale cigarette smell, still feels it scratching the back of her throat as she talks about it.
Continue reading “Suki’s Unabridged Journey to The Train of Thought by Sharon Mertins”

Here we go again. Another seven days have gone as quick as Usain Bolt with a dodgy stomach! I think you can see where this post is going. I can’t ignore what is a world-wide event so I have been thinking on The Olympics this week. Due to me not wanting to upset many people I won’t comment on the big man overlooking but not helping the Nazareth team winning any medals. (Broken Down Angel anyone???)
Continue reading “Week 87 – Submissions, Words And The Nazareth Fencing Team”
I wish I could switch off and not think. But I have to. I have to admit what I am, well what We are and I need to do something about it. But what the fuck do I do? I know what family and friends think. Not so much about Jill, but me. They think, fuck it, they know that I have a problem. I am in denial. Jesus Fuck! I’m into the fucking terminology already! Continue reading “The 14th Step by Hugh Cron (For Peter And Beth) – Adult Content”
Dick and Jane and Bob and Sally lived in a pretty little town with grass and trees. One day Bob was gone, leaving his body behind. Dick said to Sally, “Where is Bob?” Sally said to Dick, “Bob is gone.” They looked at Bob’s body, poking it with a stick. It did not move. He was not there.
I know that this may be a bit ironic but I would like to mention some inane witterings and questions. Not so much in stories but in real life. So if you are going to inanely witter, then make it about real life and you will be forgiven due to realism!
Continue reading “Week 86 – Mobiles, Inane Comments, Repetition And Comments.”