We tried to encourage Leila out of the dungeons for a while over the festive season but no, she was determined to carry on rootling around. She did present us with this piece by our old friend James. This is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Cheating the Jail Out of Time by James Hanna”
Saturday 2nd January 2021
Here we are at Week 305.
Before I start you will see the date at the top of this page – That’s for me. I’m working from the 1st – Don’t know about the second, have been on the next four from when I’m writing this, which gives me two days off in between.
Continue reading “Week 305 – No Idea, No Coal And No Difference.”
“Verminous dole scrounging deadbeats poetically whingeing that’s all it is, lamenting wistfully about the plight of their work-shy genes. The Celtic curse so it is, forever waxing philosophical about being a shite for brains’ pisshead.”
He stops. He has run away with himself and he can’t remember what he was talking about.
Packy is barely cognizant of where he is. He exists in half dream, half myth.
Continue reading “Paraffin Lamp by Alex Sinclair – Warning – strong language and content that some readers will find upsetting”
Two punks sat outside a church, their slouching backs touching the north-facing wall, a few metres from the entrance – so as not to block God’s passage. Neither were religious, in fact they thought it utter shite, but they knew about respect. Respected respect. Their hair was spiky, but there were no spikes on them.
Continue reading “Long Live Carl Mar by Jane Houghton”
The door opens automatically, not how supermarket doors part but rather like a hologram dissipating. Inside, the lights are blinding. Ads swarm the walls, as if overrun with nagware.
A hostess joins us mid-stride, music creeping out from her headset. She doesn’t bother to catch our eye. “Headphones or no headphones?”
I don’t quite grasp the question. Rashida jumps in. “Headphones.”
Continue reading “Nine Minutes into the Future by Jared Cappel”
Maisie wished Goodwill had an anonymous nighttime drop-off. She didn’t want to be judged for her donations or the frequency with which she gave them. In all things, Maisie preferred to be anonymous. She didn’t like to be seen. She was 262lbs and 5’2″. Most of her life, Maisie was petite, her adolescent frame offered her two options: one to keep shopping in the children’s department or two to find a good tailor. Thankfully, her grandma could sew. Grandma Betty made a lot of Maisie’s clothes. Eventually, Maisie hit 100 lbs. Now, the only thing she was lacking was much in the way of boobs. Push-up bras now had something, a little something, to work with even if the ballooned bras were problematic with spontaneous combustion while dancing or laughing.
Continue reading “Food Cowboy by Leah Sackett”
The man was raw-boned, sleek, could skate like the wind that blew out of Canada on days like these around the corner of Appleton and Summer Streets, near cliff faces where the Montreal Tunnel holds forth. His hair was dark, his eyes held stories recessed and reserved, but he wore a magnificent pair of hockey gloves. Great, shiny black elegant things, tools of the trade. If he stood still, you’d swear you could smell the new leather of them.
Continue reading “The Ice of Old Lily Pond by Tom Sheehan”
We have provided coffee and cakes on a tray as Leila continues her treasure hunting in the dungeons of LS towers. She left this piece outside the door:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Soldier of Fortune by Sharon Frame Gay”
Well, we are now at Week 304.
I hope everyone had as good a Christmas as possible.
I do think that today, not the day that I am writing this, but the day that you are reading it, unless it is any other day than the day that it was posted, is the most depressing day of the year. It feels like those depressing Sunday nights where Monday mornings loomed.
Maybe it’s just me and I don’t know why I feel that way. Maybe something happened to me in a past life.
Continue reading “Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeelll, (I checked Phonetically) Chic Young Is A Legend And Who Wants A Pasty When You Can Fuck A Sophia Loren?”
It’s been a funny year but we want to thank everyone for their support and their company. There would be no site without you. Whatever you are doing over the next few days, even if it’s nothing very much we wish you joy and peace and of course good health.
All the very best from Literally Stories.
Banner Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
Village Image by Louise Dav from Pixabay
literally stories 