All Stories, Fantasy

Fashioned at Last Into an Arrowy Shape by Travis and Lucas Flatt

I watch the Mayor dash about the rooftop, clutching his toupee against the wind. “My building!” he says,  “Grey–what have you done to my building?”

I get it. They gave him the city in decent shape; he doesn’t want it broken.

Over on the balcony, rock-megastar Alex Grey is not empathetic, mumbling: “Just hang on, brother,” his voice a rumble beneath the shrieking wind. Grey tweaks his low-E peg, plucks his tortoiseshell plectrum across the string, holds the guitar up to his ear, and nods, satisfied that he’s in tune. We’re standing on the world’s biggest amp. During the morning bustle to blockade the New York Harbor, Grey sent a battalion of roadies to lash, strap, and solder hundreds of amp cabinets to the Empire State Building.

 

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Literally Reruns, Short Fiction

Literally Reruns – Wingsy by Tom Sheehan

Every day I have submissions to read, stuff to write and books to catch up on. When I get tired I often catch myself skimming along the top of a piece, usually due to the false perception of overload. For I imagine that I am being driven, but that’s not true. I keep telling myself that the world is an increasingly hectic place, with too little time for careful reading. I believe the first person to say that was probably confronted by two wall paintings to review for the Hunter-Gatherer Digest.

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Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 395 – The Great Wall Of China Isn’t The Only One, ‘I’m Still Standing’ Isn’t Appropriate And Thomas Dolby Isn’t Anonymous!

The Mighty Clan Cron

Here we are at Week 395 and let’s be honest there has only been one event that has been covered.

I wonder if the world has ended and no-one has told us. They have been too busy reporting on a long line of … (Insert your own phrasing here)

Only those Brits (I’m a Scottish person and for so many reasons would not include myself with them!) could put the queue in queen. (Please don’t capitalise that word Diane, it will make me cry!!)

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All Stories, General Fiction

Aussie Girls by Kirk Alex

(story excerpt from Blood, Sweat & Chump Change ––
Taxi Tales & Vignettes by the author)

I’m first up on the taxi stand at the Beverly Center, after waiting for close to an hour and a half. Two Aussie girls climb in the backseat. One is blond, the other a particularly thin brunette with pocked cheeks. They want to go to Melrose.

“The Bank of America on the corner,” they tell me.

Melrose is a long street, goes for miles. I need a cross street. They can’t think of it, but explain the bank is “by the shops on Melrose.” Not much help really, but feel we’ll be able to find it.

I get the meter going and pull off the stand. Turning left on La Cienega, I take them north. When we reach Melrose Avenue I make a right. I find out that the blond has lost her wallet at the B of A “by the bus stop,” and this is why they are having me take them there. They wonder what the fare will be. I quote them between five and six dollars.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Our Harbour by Paul Kimm

Until the first ‘magical’ incident our harbour was like most others around the country. One side with its fishing industry and the other for the summer tourists. The South Pier reeking of fish guts and the north side either boarded up or packed with visitors stuffing seafood and sugar into their mouths depending on whether it was summer or not. That was until a few years back.

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All Stories, Science Fiction

Ray Guns of the Invaders 1202 by Tom Sheehan

The cloud came in low over the horizon as if it was holding hands with sky and Earth, and shadows fell from its silhouette forming strange figures of shade across the landscape. Gurley Kindreck, at the lookout post on Foster Creek, grabbed the phone and twisted the crank on an old army land phone. Behind him, wires snaked all the way back to headquarters in the heart of Burrell, Kansas, much of its corn crop already pulled, the rest of it dying in the after-lights of the enemy’s rays.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Sanctuary by Tim Frank    

 You could say I’m an unhappy guy. I just want to blot out the days, smoke away the nights and dump my beloved books into the ocean. Books used to be my everything, but now they simply bore me – I can hardly read a paragraph my senses are so dulled. I have better days, it’s true, because I’m essentially free. I can choose when I wake – I have no alarms, no commitments, but sleeping in my car, that I’ve called home since the divorce, can be a real drag.

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All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Week 394: Seeking Inspiration; Five Inspired Tales and Must See Comic Strips

Seeking Inspiration

The human ability to whine at any level of existence may be the crowning glory in the evolution of our species. The aged, the sick, the poor, the abused, the cheated all have plenty to rightfully complain about; yet even when we are young, healthy, rich, safe and on the winning team, we are still able to find something wrong with our lots. That is the point when rightful complaining turns into cry-baby whining.

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