Tag: literally stories

All Stories, Fantasy

Peeving Pandora the Pantrydraft: A Feeble Fable of the Fantasmagorical by Miss Renfield Stoker-Belle, noted Supernaturalist (Leila Allison)

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A Learned Introduction

Spirits can’t lie. Still, as it goes in both life and the afterlife, honesty does not mean accuracy. That’s the trouble with telling the truth. In the living world, a great deal of truth telling is dedicated to giving air to erroneous beliefs, mindlessly echoing hidden agendas and giving credence to hallucinations in general. The same holds true at the Otherside. For instance, if you tell a Spirit that the Earth is flat, she might believe otherwise and will tell you so. In this regard, a Spirit is even more stubborn than a mortal when it comes to shedding ignorance. The dumb shit they believe in stays believed in, no matter how much compelling evidence you may present to the contrary.

Continue reading “Peeving Pandora the Pantrydraft: A Feeble Fable of the Fantasmagorical by Miss Renfield Stoker-Belle, noted Supernaturalist (Leila Allison)” →

All Stories, Short Fiction

Week 287 – Truly, Utterly, Unbelievably Improving Just Like Booze Does To Self-Belief, There’s Nothing Worse Than The Taste Of A Rancid Sausage And Bastards Who Are Never An Exception.

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Well here we are at Week 287.

I had a look at the historical events of this week.

I see that Major Boaby Ross set fire to Washington. That wasn’t very nice and was a bit hypercritical. The British are still burning effigies of Mr Fawkes for trying to do the same sort of thing just over two hundred years earlier.

Continue reading “Week 287 – Truly, Utterly, Unbelievably Improving Just Like Booze Does To Self-Belief, There’s Nothing Worse Than The Taste Of A Rancid Sausage And Bastards Who Are Never An Exception.” →

All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Funeral Crashers by Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri

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My older sister Nancy and I love funerals. We go at random every weekend, ingratiating ourselves into the crowds, the friends, the family. We pretend to weep with the mourners, while we absorb things with the coldness of detectives, me in an oversized suit, borrowed from Dad. Nancy in one of Mother’s nice black gowns. We love the darkness, the garb, the somberness. The people gathered together, mothers and children, cousins, nephews, people with connections we cannot fathom. Being so close to darkness, a kind of whirl, excitement. We don’t know dead people, the wildness of loss. Mother and Dad are divorced, but that’s different. They wear fedoras and lavender and false civility. Even our grandparents still live, regaling us with tales of meeting Teddy Roosevelt and other trivialities.

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All Stories, Fantasy

Why We Haunt by Judge Jasper P. Montague, Quillemender (Leila Allison)

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Versatur Circa Quid!

Once again my four generations removed granddaughter, Miss Leila Allison, has thoughtfully left open a file for me to brilliantly emend. Before I get to today’s subject, however, I believe that I should once again introduce myself to the readership due to what I observe to be a great diminishment in the overall intelligence of the modern day public. It is I, the splendiferous Judge Jasper P. Montague, Quillemender. I died in 1912, but shortly thereafter I returned as a Quillemender Spirit. I am housed in a ceremonial gold gilt gavel presented to me upon my retirement from the bench. I’m allowed to travel ten paces from the gavel, which is plenty close enough to where my ancestor (and current holder of my heirloom gavel), Leila, keeps her Chromebook. Succinctly, we Quillemenders alter text written by the living. In a way my noble kind are the precursor of that mindless autocorrect function that gets so many of you in trouble.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Sacred, Hidden by W Tyler Paterson

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Sometimes while driving alone through the empty mountain roads, the weight of the world sits heavy in my chest and it hurts to breathe. Naked trees shiver in the wind. Leaves unlatch and write in silent cursive across my windshield. Their tongue is the sacred, hidden language of the earth.
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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

How to Write a Hit Song by Les Bohem

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Laying the Groundwork for a Hit

  1. Choose between digital or physical production.
  2. Select a theme.
  3. Draft lyrics that are timeless.
  4. Split your lyrics into syllables on staff paper.

Composing a Hit

  1. Set the tempo.
  2. Write the bass line.
  3. Design a catchy melody.

wikiHow, “How to Write a Hit Song”

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Odd Legend And Fuck All Else by Hugh Cron – Warning Adult Content

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Barry sat on the bed as he read the letter.

“Well that’s old Jim away.”

“Your granddad?”

“Yep.”

She sat down and put her arm around him.

“Are you okay?”

“I suppose so.”

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Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 286 – Keeping It In The Family, Roger Mellie Is A Legend And A Beast Without A Moustache.

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Here we are at Week 286

The year is fair flying in.

We sometimes say to submitters to try relevant sites if their work is specialised, or if it is a genre that we don’t publish. But the one thing we don’t do is give out suggestions to where someone could place their work.

To be truthful I don’t think either myself or Diane have much knowledge of any other fiction websites.

Continue reading “Week 286 – Keeping It In The Family, Roger Mellie Is A Legend And A Beast Without A Moustache.” →