All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Gary Glitter And The Camel Hair Coat by Hugh Cron Warning- Adult Content

Lee and Harry stood outside their manager’s office. She glowered at them. The music from the communal room was deafening.

“Jesus fuck! Am I not in enough trouble? That’s all I need, Tom and his Gary Glitter infatuation!”

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller, Writing

The Duke’s Black Bag by Tom Sheehan

Just pronounced ex-Navy and having breakfast in a small diner in Idaho, road dust claiming him as much as it did his old Ford convertible gracing the parking lot like an abused antique, he met Maybelle Hustings slinging homemade hash, the air full of morning’s riches. She was tall, neat in her apron for a hash house waitress, wore her hair pinned back severely yet evoking promise in its loosing. Corded movements in her neck, supple and graceful but fully pronounced as a woman’s, brought him early hungers, caught him leaning in the booth. Their eyes locked, gave out announcements, were decoded, and then, so as not to embarrass the other, were allowed to wander. Initial signals had been made, and illustrated; acceptance, of some order, duly noted.

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Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 283 – Diane knows that Mambo Isn’t Just Music, A Superhero’s Gongie And Where’s The Portal, For So Many Reasons.

Here we are at Week 283.

I’m hoping Diane adds a wee bit into this.

I thought this week that I’d tell you a bit about how I read the submissions.

Using my eyes is a good start. I tried with my ears but that was just shite.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Mother’s Day by Frederick K Foote

The weather was the culprit. Thunderstorms stranded Ella’s date in Boston.  Flooding in South Carolina kept her son’s girlfriend in Charleston. Ella’s planned evening of formal dress, fine dining, forgettable speeches, and priceless facetime with clients and potential clients was a must-attend event.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Margaret by Matthew Hernandez

It was late afternoon when Margaret’s doctor told us that her condition was deteriorating, that it was time to talk options. Mom sat closest to Margaret’s bedside, with her back to the window. Dad and I hunched forward in taupe, plastic chairs positioned around the foot of the bed. Margaret’s doctor stood in his white lab coat opposite Mom, a clipboard resting on his waist.

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller, General Fiction, Short Fiction, Writing

The Viaduct by Hugh Cron – Warning – Strong Language

Fergie left early again. He was fed up with the self-acclaimed King Of The Pub. He was a cunt. He was a pumped up insignificant prick who walked about as if he’d shit himself. And the clothes, fuck the boy thought he was a gangster rapper, he was nothing more than a nipple-end with some ‘roid rage.

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All Stories, Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 282 – Genre Before Character Or Plot, An Asterix For Adam And Irony From Not Being There

Maybe it’s just me and my limitations but I was wondering how many writers choose a genre before they start to write?

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