Tag: fiction

All Stories, General Fiction

Song Writer by Ronald J Friedman

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He’d burned the titles of his hit songs into the planks that formed the stall where he kept his favorite horse, a high-stepping Paso Fino of no particular value beyond the curiosity of its unusual four-gaited step. A short length of pine tacked on the half-door of the stall bore the horse’s name in brass letters, Dominus.

Colin looked about. The stalls and tack seemed unfamiliar. He took a deep breath and smelled sweet feed and hay mixed with the sharper scents of leather and manure.  

“What the hell?”

A horse whinnied somewhere across the corral and Dominus stirred.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Teaching You to Know by Sarah Walker

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I stop explaining aloud to my children that I am not lonely.

I used to tell them these things as if they would understand automatically. I’m not lonely when I lie down at night and fall asleep with five fluffy pillows surrounding my head. Or when I wake up, make my way to the kitchen—the red and white tile floor cold under my feet—and stare out across the green lawn and watch the birds eat from the feeder and sing into the morning light. Even when I eat almost every meal alone, I do not yearn for someone to sit beside me. Instead, I enjoy my breakfast, lunch and dinner outside on the patio and throw the remains of my meals in the lawn and look forward to watching the deer find the hidden treasures.

I give my children the simple answer now when they ponder and poke. “You know what the doctors said. I should spend this time how I want and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

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Literally Stories – Week 49

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This spot is usually done very professionally. There have been clever references, puns and a wonderful summary of the week’s stories. That won’t happen here. Not because the stories aren’t wonderful, of course they are…Well Thursday’s was a bit dodgy but there you go. It is just that Mr Saturday has taken some time off. After he reads this, it might only be for a week!!

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

Anniversary by Nik Eveleigh

Nik

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“…and when I asked him if he had any banking experience do you know what he said?”

Toby grins. Waits for the punchline.

“He said… and I quote…” Alan straightens his tie, leans back for effect. “He said… I’ve had a savings account since I was fifteen.”

Alan Ward is not the kind of boss who waits for subordinate approval. He’s a table thumping, bellowing roar kind of a guy and stays true to form. “A savings account? If the little shit had managed a current account I might have employed him for the hell of it.”

Toby shakes his head. Rueful smile, thinks about what to say. Settles for an agreeable but flimsy “Savings account!” and another head shake.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Science Fiction

Michael by Tobias Haglund

Tobias Haglund

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It’s raining again. I haven’t been out for weeks, but it seems every time it’s my turn in Cell 421, it’s raining. Chuck wanted to trade. He said he’d give me his lunch for three days if he could stay in Cell 421, the only one with a window. Although I do want to eat more, I simply couldn’t take away his food. Not for this. Not for staring out of a window. It’s always the same thing; rain. It’s rain and with these long, almost endless lines of people.

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All Stories, General Fiction

In Flight Memory by Nik Eveleigh

Nik

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The ice will wake you. You’ll hear it dropping in the plastic cup, sense it being passed in front of you to the woman in the window seat you haven’t spoken to since the flight began. You’ll drift, then you’ll open your eyes and stare into a face that would be prettier with less make-up. Her strip-light smile won’t fade as she asks you, patiently, for the third time if you’d like something to drink. You’ll order a gin and tonic even though you don’t want one because that’s what you do on flights. While she rummages for the gin needle in the haystack of unwanted brandy you’ll wonder if you’ll get peanuts or mini pretzels.

You’ll bet on pretzels.

And you’ll be right.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Homes, Brothers and Fantasies by Tobias Haglund

Tobias Haglund

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I catch the sunrise over the bridge every morning before I sit down by the subway. It’s not because I particularly enjoy sunrises or because I somehow find comfort in them. It’s just on my way. That’s it. I live on the other side of the bridge and since most workers get up early, I also have to get up early. I try to hurry over. For some reason it’s easier to imagine us without a home. It’s within the very term homeless. It does happen that someone recognizes me and when they do, they’ll never again share a few coins. The magic is gone. I’m no longer just that homeless man who sits there waiting for them when they go to work, and still waits for them when they go home.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Mount Carmel Raid by Tom Sheehan

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Mount Carmel Road was a quiet dead-end in the north of town. In the middle of the night when the war in the Far East was over and the radios blared the news, all lights went on in all the houses on that blind street, except where the card game was played. Many of the neighbors were solidly indignant about that turn of events on VJ Night, two Mount Carmel boys would not be coming back from the mad Pacific, which most of us only saw in Saturday newsreels at the theater.

This house was a dark house on a dark street in my town that, with some lesions and scars, hangs on to a place in my memory and will not let go. Tenants and landlords hardly leave scribed notations of a dwelling, thinking all things will ferment, dissipate, and eventually pass on. Fifty years or more of recall usually get dulled, terribly pockmarked, or fade into the twilight the way one ages, dimming of the eyes, bending of the knees, slow turns at mortality. But this one rides endlessly in place, a benchmark, a mooring place. It resides as a point of time, a small moment of history colored up by characterization of one incident.

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All Stories, In conversation with...

Literally Stories In Conversation with each other by Tobias Haglund

Tobias Haglund

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Tobias: Welcome fellow editors to the Literally Stories Autumn summit.

Diane: Where is my drink?

Tobias: Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t bring any alcohol.

Hugh: PISH!

Diane: Oh deary… I thought for sure there would be a few bottles of wine. And some for you guys as well.

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