“We were just here,” said Ned. “Why do we have to visit so often?”
“It’s been a whole year.” Emma took his arm. “Some folks do this a lot more often than that.”
Continue reading “The Visit by Kurt Hohmann”
Tag: free reading
The Fifth billygit of the Apocalypse by Leila Allison
****
I was just sitting there, taking up space, contributing nothing to the Universe other than not plotting its destruction. I was studying the concept of wrath as dispensed by cyber-mobs, and I arrived at the conclusion that those who frame witches do so to forestall winding up bound and tossed into the river themselves. Hardly a revelation, but the truth seldom wows. When you get down to it the words of the prophets are found on the subway walls, tenement halls and in stupid tweets, old chum.
My Imaginary Friend and second in command, Renfield, popped into my office and told me that the billygits wanted to see me.
Continue reading “The Fifth billygit of the Apocalypse by Leila Allison”
Literally Reruns – the Questing Knight by Michael Bloor
Michael Bloor’s excellent little gem, The Questing Knight, looks at, then beyond the charm of a pub raconteur. Michael shines a light on the truth that people had ignored with his description of the man’s previously unseen widow. This is a beautifully understated piece of work that says more than its small quantity of words.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – the Questing Knight by Michael Bloor”
Week 388: Interstellar Juice Boxes; The Week That Is and Visual Velveeta
In a Saturday post several months ago I took aim at the James Webb Space Telescope (JWST). Looking back, I discovered I did not insult it enough. The Great Eye recently opened and discovered (brace yourself) more galaxies. At work, I often deal with large shipping boxes separated from their invoices, thus they arrive as mysteries that I must explore. Whenever I open one to see what’s inside nowadays, I always say “Look gang, more galaxies.”
Continue reading “Week 388: Interstellar Juice Boxes; The Week That Is and Visual Velveeta”
A Little Time by Dylan Martin
The world was so much simpler when Forever 21 was just a shitty clothing store. Nowadays, it’s nothing more than a bar off 42nd street, with a comically-large hourglass by the door filled with sand that never falls. I used to consider it nothing more than a cheap gimmick; another one of the city’s countless tourist traps. The truth is the bar was never what attracted people. All those stupid, far-from-subtle decorations aren’t what people come to stare at; we are.
Continue reading “A Little Time by Dylan Martin”
How Daddy Gets his Due by Leo Reilly
He say, “You a pitcher or a catcher?” I say, “I’m the red-necked Sandy Koufax.” Sandy being a big deal at the time.
He laughs, asks if I’m hungry. I say, “Yeah and cold, wet and tired.”
Continue reading “How Daddy Gets his Due by Leo Reilly”
Initiation by Barbara Stanley
He couldn’t believe it. It had actually worked. A crude pentagram, circle of ashes on the rug, some complicated mumbo-jumbo and poof, there before George sat a real live demon.
Continue reading “Initiation by Barbara Stanley”
The Girl with the Long Dream by Tom Sheehan
I had heard about her for a long time. She lived alone in a cave in a deep-set canyon, on a cliff looking sharply down at the edge of the prairie. She was a most beautiful Indian maiden who, I heard from several sources, had been driven from her Cherokee village. The word bandied about said she was bound in her mind to find a good man to be her husband. She would have the best of children and would be the best of mothers. For that she needed the best man she could find.
Continue reading “The Girl with the Long Dream by Tom Sheehan”
Show Off by Frederick K Foote – Contains adult language and themes.
On a balmy day in May, Betty Brown said to a joyous Black boy jiving around on Broadway, “Walk that walk, Boy. You know you sooo fine. You know I’m gonna make you mine. It’s just a matter of time.”
Continue reading “Show Off by Frederick K Foote – Contains adult language and themes.”
Week 387: Blame It On The Tintintinabulator; Five New Memories, Plus a Season Finale
I blame it on the Tintintinabulator, that musical Spirit who goes from ear to ear and secretly whispers catchy songs into semi-catatonic minds. That is my theory for why tunes get stuck in our heads. Currently, Kate Bush is singing Wuthering Heights in my mind. “Cathy” has been at the window for about a week. She’s done it before and will again. It usually takes ten days for her to go away, satisfied that she has once again qualified me for a berth in Crazytown.
Continue reading “Week 387: Blame It On The Tintintinabulator; Five New Memories, Plus a Season Finale”
