Tag: literally stories

All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller, Fantasy

Snakeskin by P.L. Salerno

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Leona Wiley stood outside the casino, waiting. She leaned against its brick facade, one suede heel up against the building’s side. Her dark blonde hair was neatly curled, just barely hitting her shoulders. Dangling pearls weighed down her earlobes, obsidian mascara darkened her eyelashes, and her lips shone a vibrant vermillion. She wore a copper fox fur coat and, under it, a black velvet dress. Leona watched as people slipped in and out of the casino’s double doors, looking for the person she was sent to see.

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Literally Reruns, Short Fiction

Literally Reruns – Watching it Move by Alex Reid

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Every now and then a story comes by that makes me slap my head and bemoan the fact that I didn’t think of it first. Such is the case with this week’s rerun Watching It Move by Alex Reid. Still, there ain’t a great idea that can stand up to clumsy handling; but Alex timed this perfectly and the result is satisfying as well as a cause of envy.

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Latest News, Short Fiction

8 Years!

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Eight years. Since an idea by Adam West in response to a favourite site failing to today. Those of you who have been with us from the early days may remember the struggle for content when we put our own work in to fill the spaces. Later you may not have realised how we were breaking under the weight of work until Lovely Leila came to our rescue. She works incredibly hard since we ambushed her and dragged her into LS Towers and we are really glad we threw that sack over her head (sorry about the hair, Leila).

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All Stories, Fantasy, Short Fiction

Small God Syndrome by Leila Allison

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Part One

Gwen Cooper, the volunteer Weekend Caretaker at New Town Cemetery, was raking leaves one fine autumnal Saturday morn’, singing a groovy song first heard on The Brady Bunch called Sunshine Day:

“I just can’t stay inside all day

I gotta get out, get me some of those rays

Everybody’s smilin’ (sunshine day!)

Everybody’s laughin’ (sunshine day!)”

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All Stories, General Fiction

Thorong-La by Jessica Hutter

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I’d actually been warned about the mountain years before, in the days when we were still in the Bronx, when all we’d climbed were the stairs on Bailey Avenue. Back then the ascent was no less tricky, with the steps that crumbled and the men who sat at the top, like goats, watching until we got close and then following us through the neighborhood. In the winter there was nothing extraordinary about the cold, more dirt than snow, just enough ice to make you doubt the ground.

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All Stories, Fantasy

The Good, the Bad, and the Zombie by Matt King

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The Good was the worst. The Bad was worthless. The Zombie, at least, was willing.

Life is so energy intensive. Though the Zombie held few thoughts in its putrefying head, this one stuck as flies buzzed feverishly around, attracted by the kill on the street. The Good had done it. Savagely struck down the child and then walked on fingering his rosary beads as if he’d just blessed the poor little soul.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Influencer by Frederick K Foote – Warning – Adult content

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Ahh, there you are, you little pervert. Shame on you for peeking between the cracks in my blinds. Go away voyeur before what you don’t see blinds you, cracks your mind wide open, drives you stone crazy. Go away, you bright-eyed bungler, you have given yourself away. There is nothing here for you to see.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Daddy by Naga Vydyanathan

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“Kausalya Supraja Rama Purva Sandhya Pravarthathe …” – the mobile phone whirred to life, blaring the famous verses of Guru Vishwamitra, scaring the wits out of the guileless night. Murthy shifted in his bed, extending an arm out to silence the phone. It was 4:30 am, a.m. brahma muhurtham, the time deemed ideal for meditation and yoga by the Hindu scriptures. In all of his sixty plus years, he had, without fail, adhered to the strict regimen of starting his day at the brahma muhurtham. However, the last few months were only making him increasingly aware of his growing age. What was once a disciplined routine, now required all his resolve to keep its tag.

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Short Fiction

Week 402: I Love You, But…The Loved Week That Is; An Invitation and a Veterans Day Act of Remembrance

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Latest Big Idea

I heard Stevie Nicks’ Edge of Seventeen for the hundred-thousandth time on the radio this week, and hated it a little more. There’s a Classic Rock station that is played in the warehouse near my workstation, and that despised tune intrudes on my thoughts an average of three times a week. Once upon a time actual human beings designed playlists, now they are done by programs. These programs are flat out poorly constructed for they only select material already heard to the saturation point. Same old same old. Never any happy surprise memories.

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