Something shakes me from sleep, a rhythmic clanging, harsher than the church bell. And closer too.
I sit up. The walls flicker in the dim light of the hearth fire. Across the room, Father’s side of the bed is empty, but Mother’s is not. She can sleep through anything.
This week’s Rerun showcases one of our most prolific authors. Anyone who has followed the site cannot fail to have been impressed by the stories of Tom Sheehan. Leila had a root around in his storage area and came out with this one. This is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Skink, The Town Drunk by Tom Sheehan”
Another seven days bites the dust, so this must be posting number 233.
I didn’t need to look very far for my inspiration this week, it came from working on the emails.
Continue reading “Week 233 – Neutral Protagonists, The Reason Lemmings Jump And New Genitalia.”
Maya waits on the church stage in an ankle length black dress with white stripes holding a flute. She stares at a giant window covered in coloured plastic panels that play with the light. Looking at all those colours, she can’t tell if outside is cloudy, raining, or sunny. One blue panel has a spider web crack across its surface.
He lights a cigarette on their small balcony that overlooks the main children’s park beneath. It’s dark already, so the only rumbling he hears is from lonely street dogs and teenage couples. He takes long deliberate drags from it, letting the smoke settle on his lips for a moment before deciding to blow it out. He watches as the smoke meets the air, blurring the horizon underneath him. His wife approaches the balcony from their living room. He hopes she would not scold him again for smoking. He knows it’s bad for him. As soon as she steps out, he starts, Continue reading “On a Balcony in Bucharest by Irina Popescu”
“Reload the story,” Harry said.
“Harry, I just—”
“Please?”
Kenneth sighed and clicked the arrow icon. Their network connection was slow in the mornings and the page reconfigured slowly. First came the bold, enlarged headline, followed by the ads. The smaller print loaded last. Kenneth and Harry skimmed the entire article again but it read the same as before, no updates or revisions of any kind. The suspect is in a blue Volkswagen Passat heading southbound on I-5. Police are urging other motorists to avoid—
4 A.M. New Town Cemetery, Charleston, Washington
******
Eternal Keeper reached into the sky and plucked threads of starshine. The sheared strands merged as a multi-colored lightning bolt which struck the only oak tree inside New Town Cemetery. Thunder failed to tattle on the bolt; no one saw it strike; nor were the plentiful, watchful, sensitive, nocturnal creatures in the graveyard aware of it; nor did it in the least disturb the slumbering daybreak birds, nor squirrels, nor even the insects that inhabit the lone graveyard oak. But something did happen within a set-aside dimension where Keeper and the spirit of the tree coexist. Come sunrise, the shape of a ghost, whom Keeper had woven from the threads of plucked starshine, rose from his grave and proceeded to the power and safety of the enchanted tree.
Continue reading “The Haunting of Miss Gwen Cooper by Leila Allison”
It’s nice to see a regular and loyal supporter of all aspects of the site suggesting a re-run written by another long time loyal reader, author and commentator. Leila has picked out One Night in Club Sexbot and this is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – One Night in Club Sexbot by David Henson”
Seriously folks since I wrote the posting last week I can’t begin to count how many more AI stories we have received. We’ve had to automate our system with DYARL He / She / Whatever is our dyslexic counting IA. He / She / Whatever tells us that we have had 11 stories in but it may actually be 11.
Continue reading “Week 232 – Automated Help, Proud Weaknesses And Bewildering Sex Parts.”
67 years!
Harlan counted again: 67 years!
The numbers were bright as they flashed in his head. In all those years he had made every trip to Wiscasset, Maine but one, the time he was in the hospital in McKees Rocks, PA for his coronary by-pass. 67 years to celebrate a death, a heroic death, but a death forever cold, no matter how hard they tried to warm it up.
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