Tag: literally stories

All Stories, General Fiction

The Sisterhood of Nod by Leila Allison

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A Day in the Life of 1987

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Ever since it was installed in 1951, the carillon atop the Charleston city courthouse plays a piece of classical music after it chimes noon. On a day long since protected by the statute of limitations, I was waiting out a red light in front of the courthouse when the carillon played the Chopin nocturne featured in The Deer Hunter. Maybe I’ve reached the age where my cultural references are “out of print,” but there’s a special sadness in that melody which always sinks me; yet on that day, when I was twenty-eight, I felt nothing at all.

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All Stories, General Fiction

They Shot the Beave by David Lohrey

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Yeah, I live on Scarlet Street all right, near the corner of Agamemnon and Chintz. You know it? There is a pool hall on the corner, where there was a stabbing last year. 1732 to be exact, apartment 2C, in the back. I used to have a Plymouth Valiant but now I drive a Malibu.  I just finished a box of crackers and a hunk of Swiss. I’m all out of dough. Cashed my pension over a week ago, paid some bills, and haven’t a dime to my name.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Otter by Tim Hildebrandt

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My cubical is in a row along the east wall of the building. Windows provide ample light on a sunny day, filtered through a bank of trees ringing the parking lot outside. The wind in the trees create moving shadows on my desk, and I follow them as my mind wanders.  I gaze at the ceiling ignoring my work. Reading is time-consuming, time I need for maintaining appearances and impressing others with skills and abilities always needing attention. Skills and abilities are my life’s work. I know what people look like when they have such skills, I know how they act. I try to act the same way so people will assume I have the same abilities. My goal is to learn how to engage effortlessly in small talk and put others at ease with humorous anecdotes. I search for anecdotes whenever I can, I sprinkle them throughout my conversation. But it is hopeless, I know I have no social skills. One has to learn how to get along with people, it isn’t an innate skill.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Sister Mother by Yash Seyedbagheri

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One day, you look for money in your sister’s drawers and you discover something else completely. You started out the day Nick Botkin, sister of Nancy, son of Penelope. Now Penelope’s your grandmother and Nancy’s your mother.

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All Stories, Literally Reruns

Literally Reruns – So Are They All by Mitchell Toews

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We could tell something had Leila all riled up. We could hear her howling at the moon. We turned the music up and hoped for the best. This is what we found next morning on the steps outside the LS dungeons.

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Short Fiction, Writing

Week 311 – Everything, Long Legged Linda And That Dirty, Dirty Water.

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Well here we are at Week 311.

I was saddened this week to read of the death of Christopher Plummer.

Not as sad as I was when I became aware of ‘The Sound Of Music’.

To be fair, I haven’t seen it all the way through, just a look at those weird weans gives me the fear.

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All Stories, Horror

Kitty Cat Man by Erik Sorensen

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A clutter of stray cats roams the streets at night, eating corpses. Least that’s what they say. The clutter don’t make the corpses neither; they just sort of clean them up for us. Course, technically speaking, they’re a destruction of cats, seeing as how they’re wild. But clutter sounds better. Besides, all cats are wild no matter how fat and lazy and orange they might pretend to be. Cats are more like us than we care to admit. Only two animals who regularly practice sadism are us and the kitty cats. Hell, they even domesticated themselves just like we did. But even after all these thousands of years, they’re still creatures of the night. Just like us. Just like that Laura Branigan song. And just like the world.

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller, General Fiction, Short Fiction, Writing

Do The Right Thing by Hugh Cron – Warning – Strong Adult Content

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Hoors!

Dirty fucking hoors!!

Hoor-maisters…Dirty fucking hoor-maisters.

Clatty bastards the lot of them.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Urban Violence by Frederick K Foote

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“Time and tide wait for no man, buddy. You got to get up and get back on track.”

Coach Leif is kneeling beside me with a grin morphing into a smirk. I’m flat on my back courtesy of a blindside hit that has me seeing stars, hearing bells, and wondering if I’m paralyzed.

“Track? Was I on a track? What the fuck? I thought I got hit by a truck. What’s a truck doing on our track?”

“Come on. Get on up and shake it off, Urban.”

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