Ah, the brave year of ā15. No matter the century, Iām certain that someone will claim that she/he walked ten miles uphill through snow both ways to and from school, upon recalling 2015. Time distorts perception and makes exaggerant raconteurs of us all.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Everything Happens For a Reason by Adam West”
UserTube
I donāt like TikTok much because it encourages the further curtailment of an already alarmingly short public attention span. I sometimes think that maybe we are being steadily prepped for a future in which chips will be planted in our brains at birth. In the year 3000 āslowā will describe someone who actually takes a second to think something over. No, not much for TikTok, but I do like YouTube, well, to a point, yet there is something happening on it that makes me howl with rage.
Continue reading “Week 414: UserTube; Another Milestone in Scotland; the Remains of the Week and YouTube Fascinations”
He sat on the couch with his arms crossed around his middle like he was hiding something precious from some malevolent authority.
āI think I might have gone,ā he said.
In a moment the water stopped to a drip in the kitchen sink.
āIām coming,ā she said.
She went to him compressed by the years. Shrunken like wool in the dryer. Her shoulders pushed down from holding all the clouds above the world.
She helped him to the bathroom.
Continue reading “Wig Shop by Jon Fotch”
It is far too quiet for a room with two people, a room where the brush of bare feet on wooden floorboards struggles to fill the air. A room where dim, flickering shadows writhe unbidden across the wall, called forth by a candle sputtering futilely in the corner. It is the silence of empty air where people ought to be, and the bar is fully brimming with it.
Continue reading ”Ā The Girl Who Does Not Exist by Kaela Li”
Marku 3 was a planet with a sun in eternal eclipse.
I landed there just over a week ago, careful to make camp within a small clearing in a forest full of pale, leafless trees. It was midday. It was brisk. There was a calming eeriness about the way the dim orange sunlight painted everything in shadows.
On that first night a group of the planetās natives came to the campsā perimeter and watched me in wonder. They were primitive with skinny inverted legs, bulbous heads covered in wire-like hairs, and a single eye embedded within the center.
They communicated amongst themselves with clicking noises made by tapping two bone plates on the inside of their knees together.
One came as an emissary, approaching within feet of me. As it stepped within the harsh glow of a floodlight behind me it suddenly froze.
Itās single eye dilated. Every hair was out like spikes.
It started with a low rumble in its chest. A soft frequency vibrated inside me, growing stronger by the second.
It was warm.
It was mesmerizing.
A dopamine rush flooded my system. Nothing else existed but ecstasy.
Continue reading “Step 13 by Joe Jablonski”
ā16 years? Seriously, 16 years? Youāre killing me!ā
Why do they always yell? I didnāt know this guy, but I knew his story. He was in over his head. Thatās how it was with most clockers. Give āem a second, theyāll take a year, right? Okay, I know thatās not original, but itās still true.
āNot yet,ā I countered. āUnless you keep borrowing more than you can pay back. And itās 16 years and 47 days, plus a few hours. How do you want to do this?ā
Continue reading “Borrowed Time by Rob OāKeefe”
“Have you spoken to him too?” the man asked.
“Huh?” The boy didn’t even take his eyes off his comic book, only putting it down to quickly light a cigarette. “To that old guy? Yeah.”
Continue reading “A Choice, Through Time by Anatoly Radimir”
Here we are at Week 413 and it’s my turn again.
Having a conversation with my mum this week brought up a sort of weird writing idea from me and that was about setting a story in a time.
Continue reading “Week 413 – Once Were Wedding Presents, A Part Of A Half Billion Cabinet And A Wee Fellow Nervous In The Showers For A Lot Less.”
By the time Sally died, it was too late for Jack to become a better husband and too late to make amends. Car crashes come suddenly, without any warning, and can be as unforgiving as the wife of a cheating husband who feels no remorse. Jack was alone, five days after the accident, sitting in his kitchen eating breakfast and checking for the fourth time to make sure heād turned the stove off. He had overcooked scrambled eggs and the toast heād made looked more like burned charcoal than anything fit for human consumption, but heād eaten most of it anyway, spitting out the darkest of the black, crumbling pieces into the sink (after chewing them until the taste was unbearable). Those buttery, black bits were now stuck to the greasy aluminum pots and pans that lined Jackās sink and would be onerous to get off.
Continue reading “Burned Toast by Gil Hoy”
On a still fall day, I walk through the woods near the river. The sun is out and this makes the birch bark shine in white vertical swipes on a background of dun and green. The river is every shade of blue, capped with white horses beneath a sky of mareās tails.
Continue reading “Piece of My Heart by Mitchell Toews”
literally stories 