Tag: free reading

Short Fiction, sunday whatever

Literally Reruns – Dave by Hugh Cron

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Ah, the month of June. When I was a child June was a magical time. School was out and summer lay ahead like an endless fantasy. It was impossible to believe that something that wonderful could go bad. But it did; when school let me out for the last time I immediately began working at a job I needed but already hated.

So it is fitting that we mark this June with a tale of regret for something wonderful that was lost and always will be, with Dave by Hugh Cron.

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Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 432 – Plod With No Shoulders, Removed Nipples And Bloater Is Too Close.

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Another week bites the dust and we find ourselves at posting number 432.

This is being published the day after my birthday but I am writing it the day before as there is no point in typing it the day of my birthday. I’d miss all the keys and spill my malt onto the keyboard.

Continue reading “Week 432 – Plod With No Shoulders, Removed Nipples And Bloater Is Too Close.” →
All Stories, General Fiction

I’d Rather Have a Chocolate Bar by Frances Gaudiano

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Sophie’s yoga teacher had raved about the cacao workshop. It was to be held at the yoga studio on a Saturday afternoon. Sophie had started taking yoga because she thought it would be good for her anxiety levels. She wasn’t sure a cacao festival would help with that. Didn’t cacao wake you up? Sophie didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to go to sleep – for weeks, maybe even a month or two. She had terrible insomnia. But Juniper (was that her real name?) the yoga teacher, insisted that the workshop would open up Sophie’s heart and help her to overcome all her worries. In one afternoon? That would be great and a lot cheaper than four or five years of therapy.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Jimmy, the Architect by Dan Shpyra

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As he was falling from the rooftop, Jimmy`s whole life flashed before his eyes. That is why it was even more upsetting. A gap year in Australia, a few good years at college, and a job until he finds something better. After his skull would have crushed against asphalt, his brain splashed all over the road, and his broken limbs would be packed in a plastic bag, would there be a grand procession? Or, perhaps, just his parents and two or three friends would mourn him for a month. Falling, Jimmy knew: the latter was the case. They would have to use vague language during his eulogy sprinkled with cliches, for there was not much to tell.

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All Stories, General Fiction

They Say He Was a Biter By Hari Khalsa

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The office was dark except for the bluish glow of two monitors which illuminated Hari Deva Singh’s wrinkled face and long scraggly white beard, like a twenty-first century wizard coding his newest spell. He sat back and scrolled to the top of this night’s Facebook post, furrowing his brow as he read through what he had written.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Dress For Success by Stephanie Greene

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Caroline bought her dachshund a Harvard coat. It was maroon polar fleece with an oversize insignia. Forty-five bucks to impress her new boyfriend’s family.

But Ruckus was not Harvard material. Tailgating at The Game, he yanked free, barked at babies, and absconded with a turkey drumstick. When she caught him, Caroline couldn’t leave him in the car, afraid he’d open the hamper or attack the upholstery, so she walked him around the roaring stadium, waxing philosophical. Kip and his parents went inside.

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All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whoever

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This week’s Whoever has been with us since May 2021 when he had the beautiful All My Darlings Waiting published. Now it’s time to find out more about this writer of poignant, lyrical work. We sent Antony a list of questions and his responses are as thoughtful as his fiction writing. If you haven’t read any of Antony Osgood’s work you really are missing a treat.

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Short Fiction

Week 431: Going Nuts the Old Fashioned Way

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Traditional Crazy

The Google age has ruined wracking your mind to the point of a breakdown while trying to locate an essentially useless piece of information that you know is in there. I have always been stubborn about asking people questions regarding a forgotten meaningless item; I derive a sense of accomplishment upon at last digging a pointless fact out of the rubble in my mind. I consider such the mental equivalent of the slightly pathetic and disgusting activity of using your tongue to dislodge a morsel stuck between teeth, even though there are toothpicks in the kitchen.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Frankie and the Wild Man by Marco Etheridge

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The wild man sat in his lawn chair and tried to ignore the small boy lurking behind the shabby travel trailer. The chair was made from aluminum tubing and woven plastic webbing. The coarse webbing sometimes pinched the back of the wild man’s thighs, but he was accustomed to this. He’d owned the chair for a very long time. The sneaking little brat, however, was a new and unwelcome annoyance.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Backsides by Amita Basu

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In the headquarters of Calcutta Electricity Supply Corporation, we sit over lunch. The powder-blue walls smell damp; the fans hanging on ten-foot-long rods from the high ceiling whirr lackadaisically, barely moving the swamp-thick air; our lunch is white rice, fish curry, and sweets; and the only way to stay awake this midsummer afternoon is to jabber.

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