They broke through the jungle canopy at midmorning, damp with sweat and soft declarations of wonder. The jungle made everything softer. The air, the light. Even thoughts, if left untethered long enough. The air was thick with that sweet, vegetal stillness that only comes miles from roads, wires, and clocks. Every breath tasted green.
Continue reading “Aeris by Zachary Schwartz”
The beetles live in the stump out back, festering beneath the rotting remnants of an old dule tree. I call them, and they rise—the black coil of death—thousands of them climbing up, up, up and over each other, hissing and clicking, putting her together like sentient fog. Black fog. Only sometimes, especially when they’re hungry, they don’t quite get her shape right; I appreciate their efforts and reward them dearly, but when they get her wrong, I want to scream.
Continue reading “Beetles by Brandon McWeeney”
Evelyn stared out the kitchen window willing herself to ignore the breathing coming from the living room. It was a wet labored breathing. She wiped the last dish and set it in the rack. Another breath was pulled from the lungs in the other room.
Continue reading “The Breather by Rebecca Petty”
The bones spoke to Angelina the way other women heard gossip over garden fences. Snake vertebrae whispered of rain coming from the east. Coyote teeth predicted claim jumpers and cattle thieves. But it was the human bones that spoke loudest, and those she kept hidden beneath her floorboards, wrapped in red silk stolen from a dead Chinese merchant’s shop. Each bundle reminded her of her own lost child, the daughter whose bones she’d never found to read.
Continue reading “The Bone Reader of Tucson by Dana Wall”
Today will be like any other day. You’ll softly snooze the alarm clock as it sounds, just over an hour before your train pulls into the station. You will feel the groggy effects of sleeping fitfully, as has become the norm. Pressing snooze, you tell yourself you’ll get up on the first alarm tomorrow, already knowing you won’t.
Continue reading “A Day Like Any Other by Danielle Rhodes”
Still feeling a bit too gooey? Still have the urge to hug people? Don’t worry – we’re here for you. Literally Stories – Christmas Hellweek. Stories to counteract all that goodwill: Enjoy
An Introduction from David
ULTRA-BELFAST
If you’re the black sheep then any family event, gathering or occasion can feel like Ultra-Belfast. There’s a purgatorial feel to your day when you’re plucked from your home comforts and trappings and shipped back to a time and place when your independence and autonomy was restricted. I vaguely remember committing the first few sentences to the white page. I’d like to say it was during the Christmas before it was published here, that would be remarkably apt but it would also be horse piss. It almost certainly came after one of those events though. One where I looked around a table and saw variations of the same face looking back at me. A little older, a little worn down. The light behind their eyes, a little dimmer than it had been the previous year, or the one before that.
For anyone who doesn’t buy into it, the Northern Irish summer and in particular the 12th of July, is the ultimate purgatorial state. Twenty-first century living grinds to a halt so a minority of over intoxicated and under informed can lay claim to everything within their eyeline in the name of tradition. Loyal servants of the crown celebrating the victory of a Dutch King over the English Monarch. Celebrating the victory of a protestant king over a catholic king. Celebrating the victory of a protestant king, who led a largely catholic army, financed by the vatican. Trying to explain it could turn you mad.
The truth of the matter is, to be Northern Irish is to live in a permanent state of purgatory. Irish by geography, British by rule, your individual identity, independence and autonomy permanently in flux and controlled by calendar and tradition. I’m ten years older than the writer of this story. If I had to try, I don’t know if I could write it now, but I still relate to it because I’m still sitting at that card table waiting to go all-in.
Welcome to Ultra-Belfast…
Ultra-Belfast by Dave Louden – Adult Content
Image: Scary Christmas Baubles from www.freepik.com n.b. This is an AI generated image.
We were in the same class at junior school. You were only eight years old, I was nearly nine when you moved. I sat behind you. You were so clever; you used to be the first one to answer the teacher’s questions. I used to try and get close to you so I could copy your work.
Continue reading “You Don’t Remember Me, Do You? By Alex Kellet”
Adult content – see tags at the bottom of the story
I don’t believe in God; and I’ll tell you why. I don’t believe that good exists. There’s just evil and the absence of evil. It’s like your air conditioner doesn’t actually blow cold on you. It simply absorbs the heat and expels it elsewhere.
Continue reading “The Absence of Good by Thurman Hart”
The thing that you need to understand is, living beings die.
It’s not welcome, yeah. It is not something to look forward to, but it does happen. And, at times, it is kinda funny.
When daddy killed the deer, I found it funny how she toppled over the ground and crumpled on its back. There is something intricately funny about tragedy, seeing something regal just fall and shatter. When, at the end, the sun dies, I think God will also sit back and have a merry little chuckle.
Continue reading “When the Sun Dies by Tathagata Banerjee”
Henry loved school; it was his favorite thing in the whole world. He was only ten years old, but he was ahead of the rest of his class. The teachers had said so themselves, he heard it in their hushed conversations, he read it on the stacks of papers they keep on their desks. It made him feel good, he felt proud.
Continue reading “Lions and Zebras by Charlize L. Love”
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