Weekends are for my brother. I try to see him on Saturdays, but sometimes it’s Sunday. He doesn’t know one day from the next, so I don’t guess it matters. They limit his time with the other patients. I wish they wouldn’t. Even if he doesn’t talk, he might like listening.
Continue reading “It Happened on Wednesday by Foster Trecost”
“Hey there pretty lady, lookin’ good!”
“Hi Chris, didn’t expect to see you here. Alone and on a school night!!”
“What the fuck, I needed a drink! And I really don’t give a shit about the job, so, so what if I go in half-mangled…What about you? Waiting for someone?”
Continue reading “Market Place by Hugh Cron – Adult Content”
There are many Declans in this story, but let’s begin with ours.
Declan sits on the edge of his bed, absently sweeping his hands under the crumpled sheets in search of the remote. When that fails, he reaches beneath the bed without bothering to look, hoping his fingers brush against salvation.
Continue reading “Channel 7 by Gareth Vieira”
Dale Williams Barrigar has been a blessing to every writer on the site since his arrival last summer. I dare anyone to find more sincere comments or an even more learned mind on the subject of literature on the site (although Gerry Coleman satisfies that condition as well!) Thus it is fitting that a painting The Old Guitarist should have at least partially inspired Dale’s first site story, today’s rerun.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns- The Old Guitarist by Dale Williams Barrigar”
(Editors’ Note: It’s a hell of an accomplishment to land one story for publication, but it takes special talent and courage to do this many–and we are only a small part of Fred’s overall canon. Congratulations Fred! You earned every word and sentence of this achievement–Leila, Diane, Hugh, Nik at LS)
Back in the day, when I was a snot-nosed little rascal growing up in the country, the old folks used to say stuff like, “Homer Hall, how you let all these kids keep up so much ruckus? Where’s your mind, boy?”
Continue reading “The Keys to the Highway by Frederick K Foote: Number 100!!!”
When I was six, my mother said, “Lloyd, let your little sister play with that truck. Kenya is only four. Be generous, she’s the only sister you got.”
When I was eight, my dad said, “Lloyd, you can’t do everything you see these White boys do up here. When you see them about to get in trouble, you need to head on home.”
Continue reading “Fairness by Frederick K Foote: 98 Cometh!”
Oh, them blues. Them blues done got in my shoes. Dancin’, dancin’ my fool self to death.
James Cotton makes me grab Big Mable, do the two-step, do the buck and run, water the floor with our sweaty salt. She shakes her money maker, tables wobble, bottles fall from the shelf. She bounce them bosoms, make a grown man cry for mother’s milk.
Continue reading “Them Blues by Frederick K Foote: Behold Fred’s 97th”
I was searching for words of wisdom to pass on to my adult children. I gathered thoughts from some of the older generations that are well-known and greatly respected in our communities. I then searched among family, friends, and local publications for examples to illustrate their opinions. This is what I found.
Continue reading “Words from The Elders by Frederick K Foote: Number 96!”
(Editors’ Note: Today begins the countdown to the 100th LS story written by the great Frederick K Foote. Fred has been a contributor for a decade and of the thousands who have published with us, he is only the fourth to reach this plateau. Today we present number 95, and the daily countdown will bring a new one until 100 debuts this Friday.
Congratulations, Fred–Leila, Diane Hugh)
A letter from an unknown source to Francis Marsh (FM) was received by FM in September 2021.
[Francis Marsh is a cultural anthropologist/sociologist in Oakland, California. Marsh has broadcast “Social Change,” a popular podcast since 2018.]
Continue reading “Religion Gone Viral by Fredrick K Foote”
Hello one and all. Instead of the weekly wrap (which would be a strange thing to present being that it is Christmas Crime Week) we unwrap and wrap the final case of this week’s criminal activity. The “Sue” is a vile little turd, but he is both interesting and entertaining, and we feel you will find him the same.
The Holiday Extravaganza ends not today, come back tomorrow and you will see the start of Frederick K Foote Week and he marches the final miles to his 100th appearance on the site.
A Boy Named Sue by Scott Taylor – Content Warning. A subject that some readers may find upsetting.
Image: Jail cell with Christmas trimming chains on the bars by Angie at Studio Anjou
literally stories 