John coiled the rope thirteen times around itself to form the hangknot. The ridges of the knot felt strong, almost muscular, in his hands. John knew his knots. Working on farms will make you an expert in practically anything, or anything practical. He slid the noose open and held it at arm’s length, looked at it carefully: it’ll serve.
Continue reading “Rebirth by Martin Toman”
First stop was the bins by the pond. He parked the buggy and blew on his hands with little effect, except to bring on a coughing fit. He bent down to pick up a ketchup-stained PFC take away box, fumbling for a moment, edging the carton along the frosted path towards the pond railings. As he picked it up something caught his eye behind the railings; sunlight glinting off a shiny surface. For a minute his heart raced and he wondered if this was the knife from the attack outside the school last week. He instinctively looked around, but at 7:30am on a February morning Clissold Park was desolate. Lloyd was the only soul in there, with just wildlife for company.
Continue reading “An Audience of One by Hugh Todd”
Friday night, Nick cranks up his Spotify playlist, a plethora of Tchaikovsky. The Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake, Eugene Onegin.
He’s home on Friday, he’s twenty-six, but he can party.
Continue reading “I Love You, Man by Yash Seyedhagheri”
One morning over coffee, Jessica says she wants us to take a horse to church. My wife doesn’t mean using the animal for transportation. She wants to walk a horse up the steps, down the aisle, and let it stand there during services.
Continue reading “Whacky Ideas by Dave Henson”
Leila has chosen a dark and disturbing piece this time. Get yourself a whisky, make sure all the doors are locked and have a look at this one:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – The Violin He Played Downstairs by Ashlie Allen”
Week 321.
Whenever I look at that number I remember an old game show that was on the TV late 70s – early 80s.
Ahh nostalgia – It can get us all emotional.
But not with Three, Two, One. (321)
It was terrible.
Continue reading “Week 321 – Ted’s Fingering, Lists And A Kardashian’s Nipples.”
One night, five days before departure:
“I’m not staying for you,” Andrew says.
He lies next to me in bed, his eyes aflame, half-hidden by a lock of hair fallen across his brow. A bead of sweat carves a shimmering trail down his chest.
I prop myself up on one elbow.
“Then why? Soon there will be nothing to stay for.”
“The people, Sarah. Are they not worth staying for?”
I roll my eyes.
Continue reading “Departure by Callum Rowland”
When I mention that I once spent a year in the island state of Tasmania, people look at me with interest and ask me the same question. A question as patented as Coca-Cola and as reflexive as a burp. “Did you see the Tasmanian Devil?” they say. They are probably thinking of that Looney Tunes critter that talks in growls and grunts—not that poor diseased marsupial that is practically extinct.
Continue reading “Did You See the Tasmanian Devil? By James Hanna”
On his morning walk along a secluded trail in Brunette River park, Jackson noticed a pair of fluffy blue slippered feet attached to bare legs sticking halfway out into the path. He stepped closer and there lay an old man on his side, dressed in a white nightgown and holding two crutches.
Continue reading “The Conscience Test by Harrison Kim”
In his book, On Hashish, Walter Benjamin describes what he experienced while under the influence of the psychoactive drug, hashish. In a section in which he details a numbered sequence of hallucinations, one lone sentence has not ceased to haunt me for even the briefest moment since I first laid eyes on it.
Continue reading “Feline Psychedelia by Sam Skipper”
literally stories 