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”
Tag: literally stories
Week 321 – Ted’s Fingering, Lists And A Kardashian’s Nipples.
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.”
Departure by Callum Rowland
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.
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Did You See the Tasmanian Devil? By James Hanna
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.
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The Conscience Test by Harrison Kim
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.
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Feline Psychedelia by Sam Skipper
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.
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Iceberg Theory by Yash Seyedbagheri
I slink across January ice. The sun shimmers over clear, cold icy sheen.
I look ahead, but still slip.
I flail, feeling the world tumbling. The sky leers, pale blue, puffed-up clouds surveying me. Frame houses line the street, staring with cheerful yellows and greens. Oak trees stare with naked arms.
I right myself, arms flailing. It’s a miracle, but relief evaporates, replaced by shadows of shame.
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Literally Reruns – Canned Ravioli by Patricia Pocopi
Leila’s introduction to this needs nothing from me:
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Week 320 – Don’t Let Your Teenage Kids Out Your Sight, Ugly Vampires And Editor Eating Cats.
I’ve been known to fuck about with a whole range of subjects in these postings but for this part, I need to put on my sensible head.
It has been a very sombre time in Britain. And I will also bow my head in respect. These are dark times, which, if we stick together, we will get through.
Continue reading “Week 320 – Don’t Let Your Teenage Kids Out Your Sight, Ugly Vampires And Editor Eating Cats.”
Just Let Go by Anthony Billinghurst
The 11th of November was a Monday. We were patrolling in dense fog near Mons when at 11 am, Lieutenant Harrison ordered us to halt then glanced at his watch.
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