Leila Allison has been dusting the shelves in the store room – okay that’s a lie nobody can get in to do that – but she has been down there rifling through the stories and found this one by Dave Henson – this is what she said.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – The Drag Queen and the Dozen Dicks by David Henson”
Well here we are at Week 226.
As I’m writing this, there are only two main events in Britain and these have given me my inspiration for this post.
“I know you said that you didn’t want another drink but I’ve poured you one.”
Gina accepted the glass of wine.
Continue reading “Laura by Hugh Cron – Strong Adult Content”
Words cannot adequately express the giddy joy I experienced while I stood on the ferry’ s bow, alone with my “escort” (an amiable deckhand twice my size, half my age), as the vessel glided swiftly across the gunmetal Puget Sound toward Charleston, where the Law awaited me with open bracelets. The early spring sun made a lovely show of going down behind the Olympic Mountains–all dreampurple and pastel poetry. It had been ages since I had felt a sunset unfettered by loss. I was was further gladdened when my escort shooed off some fool who had come out of the cabin to capture (thus desecrate) the sunset on his phone. There was a reason we were alone; that reason (also, twice my size, half my age) was inside the cabin holding one of those phony “Blu-Ice” bags to the spot on her meaty chin where I had landed a right cross just a few minutes before.
Continue reading “All These Dreams and Tomorrow Too by Leila Allison”
Characters presented in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to humans walking the face of this earth, today or in the past is purely coincidental.
A ray of sun struck the copper’s badge and bounced off, lighting up the voting box inside H. L. Drugstore in me South Bronx Neighborhood.
Here we are at Week 225. The year is fair flying in.
I didn’t have to look far for inspiration, our papers were full of it. They normally are!
Continue reading “Week 225 – Tears, Who Really Cares and Archie Gemmill Was Also In Trainspotting.”
So here you are, sitting on the train, reading this book, looking for excitement. The cover caught your attention: some sad hero, sweat pouring down his forehead, eyes desperate with fear. You love to read about poor souls in torment.
8:30 p.m.
I’m Les. That’s right, Les Moore. I know, I know…here lies Les Moore. Killed by four slugs from a 44. No Les. No Moore. Funny. Well, it’s not so funny now. Being dead I mean. It’s my name. Thank my parents for that. But the no Les, no Moore part may happen, and in a matter of minutes. Why? Because I did something stupid and chatty. I talk to people and notice things. I went too far this time. I bargained with the devil’s disciple.
Rain was spattering off the windows like a lunatic’s depiction of the Niagara Falls. Occasionally, the odd drop would be eerily illuminated by a passing headlight. These privileged drops would fade into dull oblivion within seconds, joining the herd of drops that continued to assault the windows like an angry geography teacher with an AK-47.
literally stories 