Oh! To be born again like this! Sweet Beaver!
It’s a crispy, young morning in the infancy of spring and there is still frost to be found in the hollows and places that are shaded all day. As the sun emerges in yellow shards of a nearby eastern mountain, so too do you emerge from your cozy beaver home. Yawning out at the sky, your big beaver teeth glisten.
Continue reading “Smile, You’re a Beaver by Jeremy Johnson”
He stood in the rain to wash his sins away thinking it would do the trick, cleanse his soul, invigorate him once more, to be what he once was. That’s our hero, Viking Arel Tor, neighborhood leader, pointer of straight or straighter paths, finder of fame, good luck, saving for you the best lady of all in your welcome arms, for now and always. Viking’s way in the world.
But where did he go wrong, our Viking?
Continue reading ” Standing in the Rain to Wash the Sins Away by Tom Sheehan”
From the backseat, Callie yowls and scratches her claws against the front grate of her carrier. It’s a miracle I even got her in the thing—she hates being cooped up. They say pets take on characteristics of their owners.
Continue reading “In the Eye by Chrissie Rohrman”
When Galileo published a similarly themed dialogue which featured a God-defending character named “Simplicito,” who had the mental acuity of a centipede and was obviously meant to represent the Pope, he had to recant or die. Fortunately the world is a little more forward thinking overall, but we still live on a planet in which religious “heresy” can still get you killed quicker than a Star Trek phaser. If Hugh Cron’s The Ten Commandments somehow got published not all that long ago, in the historical sense, he’d probably wound up on the gallows or had his head decorating London Bridge. One should think he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – The Ten Commandments by Hugh Cron”
I love wild animals yet I know that some cannot love me back because I am human. Them’s the breaks. Still, I do my best to be friendly to the peripheral critters who hang around my hometown in abundance. Yet no matter how much I try to ingratiate myself to the wild things, some refuse to look past my status as a human being.
Fortunately, no majority of any wild species finds me disdainful, only a few devout misanthropes and the occasional bad apple. To be fair, I would say that a higher percentage of people find me objectionable than do, say, Voles. But, sadly, there have been exceptions to the tranquility.
Continue reading “Week 368: Adventures With Wildlife and Top Do-Overs on My Unsteady Jukebox”
It would be a lark to sit before a cartoonist at Seattle’s Pike Place Market, a joke because last night two of her oil paintings were hung in an art exhibition hall side by side with a pair of her husband’s oils. Would not a cartoon of her be the perfect ironic token to give him to commemorate their recognition? One local art critic dubbed them the “Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera” of Orange County, California. Granted, her husband had cultivated him and planted the phrase, but now it was out there.
Continue reading “The Cartoon by Cy Hill”
Isla liked to play a little game while driving on Highway 4 to Grandma and Grandpa’s for Christmas. She zigzagged her eyes between telephone poles and farm fence posts until her head hurt. The car window was an endless stream of canola fields blanketed with snow and open skies.
Continue reading “Black and White Christmas by T.L. Tomljanovic”
It was all hers, the night, the huge house, the loneliness, the dark corners of every room that she knew so well. It was all hers, and Thursday was special, just about every Thursday except the ones precluded by her natural flow. First, there’d be a soak in the tub, for an hour or so, after which she’d stand in front of the 7-foot mirror and study herself, always noting the dark mass of pubic hair, curled and rolled and headlining her view. There was a connection with that action, left by her husband, Kent.
Continue reading “The Thursday Night Woman by Tom Sheehan – Adult Content.”
I came across this oddity in the stacks and was simultaneously intrigued, repelled, entertained and baffled by it. It’s very interesting and an irresistible peculiarity. Once you start reading this it is impossible to stop. Well over five years have passed since long time site friend David Henson gave us Squirrel. I think it is high time to learn what he meant by it.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Squirrel by David Henson”
Before we start we would all like to say that our hearts bleed for the state this world is in and our thoughts are with all those poor souls who are suffering, being murdered and needing help.
I have mentioned a few times what my shortcomings are when I write.
I am shit at titles, description, imagination, technical terms, character names, to name but a few. There is another hands on discipline that I can’t do for the life of me. I can’t fill a fountain pen without covering myself in ink. I need a roll of kitchen towel, a ream of blotting paper and some industrial hand cleaner. I have splash marks up my wall from a re-filling attempt. My cat loves to ridicule me as he sits on the headrest of the chair and stares at the splodges.
I’ve stared at them myself to see what I can see, I don’t think there are ten, I can only make out five. They are :
1. Greta Thunberg with sunburn and wrapped in plastic.
2. Yosemite Sam’s nose and half of his moustache eating a kumquat.
3. A seahorse derby that is won by the 7-4 second favourite named Gerald.
4. A raspberry blancmange toasted sandwich.
5. A Rainbow fighting a packet of M&Ms and losing an eye only for one of the M&M’s to take pity and stand in. (And for all you Romance Writers – It wasn’t the bloody green one!)
I’m not sure if these are disturbing. I do know that one is a wish!
There are two weird things about these interpretations.
1. I hate toasties.
2. The ink blots are only in black.
We all know a few things about James Bond. He wore Oxfords, drank a Vodka Martini, carried a Walther PPK and used a Ronson Lighter. I wonder if he used a Dupont Fountain Pen?? (He’d need to win a few hands of Blackjack – Those bastards are expensive!)
If he did my admiration has went up ten fold. Okay, he could get away with the tuxedo but he’d look a right tit saving the world with ink blots on his shirt.
Talking about ink blots on clothes. Our anniversary was on the tenth and Gwen had a problem with a fountain pen long before me. When she was signing the marriage certificate, the pen leaked and she spilled some of the ink onto her dress. Now a lot of Bride Divas would have had a tantrum but she was a bit more philosophical about things and had a fag. She said that she’d always have the ink from the very first time she had signed her name Cron.
I read somewhere that this was the week in history when Alexander Graham Bell patented the telephone. (7th March 1876).
A few things came to mind.
– ‘Alexander Graham Bell’ is a terrible but brilliant song by the Glam Rock band ‘The Sweet.’
– I wonder if Mr Bell ever considered that his invention would be used more for pouting arseholes taking pictures of their ridiculous eyebrows rather than actually used for speaking to people.
– I really do wish that ‘Ahoy’ had been taken up as the greeting when a call was answered. I don’t suppose this wouldn’t really have changed anything:
…Ahoy…Is it me you’re looking for. (Poor Lionel! Nothing could save that song!)
…I just called to say Ahoy.* (Poor Stevie! Nothing could save that song either!)
…Ahoy! Are you wearing any knickers? (Let’s be honest a perv is a perv!!)
…Ahoy. Have you been sold PPI in the last five years. (No change there, The answer to that is still ‘Fuck off!!’)
…’You had me at Ahoy’ (Nope! No difference. Rene would still overact and Cruise still has a face you’d want to slap into next week!)
Okay, onto this week’s stories.
We had no first timers this week but what we did have were five writers who have two hundred and twenty two stories between them.
But to be fair, anytime Mr Sheehan is published, the average soars.
As always our initial comments follow.
The man himself was first up with ‘What’s In My Wallet‘.
This is story number 160 for Tom Sheehan.
That amount of stories makes my head hurt!!
And unbelievably, there are a lot more to come.
‘These stories regarding Korea are always excellent.’
‘This is up to Tom’s brilliant standard.’
‘Tom’s output continues to be beyond belief!’
It was great to see L’Erin Ogle back with another story.
Her sixteenth was called ‘Cherries‘ and it was published on Tuesday.
‘L’Erin is as dark as ever.’
‘Gripping.’
‘Shocking and excellent.’
Tony Osgood broke the back of the week with his fourth outing entitled, ‘Here Come Grandfather’s Goats’
‘So bloody hard hitting and brutal it moves you if you have any soul at all.’
‘The situations that cause this sort of desperation have never eased at anytime in history.’
‘The more times you read the story, the more you appreciate the writing.’
On Thursday we had our lovely fellow editor Diane.
‘Snow‘ was her thirty second story for the site.
‘Perfect word count.’
‘Unlike so many short shorts, this has a beginning, a middle and an end.
‘Even though it is so short, it takes time to unfold.’
We finished off with Alex Sinclaire who has now reached a milestone. This is Alex’s tenth story for us and that means he is in only the 3% of writers who have ever managed this.
Many congratulations Alex!!
‘Dengue Fever‘ completed the week.
‘A Narrative was accomplished within the rolling madness.’
‘Very dark.’
‘The ambiguity was done to great effect.
Usual prodding or poking or whatever.
Please comment, it makes the Great God Timatuma very happy.
I see that Steven French has joined our band of frequent commentators – Thanks so much for that!!
And someone please have a go at the Sunday Re-Run. I don’t know how to tempt you. Maybe by suggesting you get some medication for shyness. (Buckfast works in Scotland) Or telling you if you are a writer and want to get your voice out there, why not do a spiel and throw in a few questions for an author of a story that you’ve enjoyed. We’ll publish exactly what you send us. And that feature is looked at by around three hundred people every Sunday.
And just to finish off. I see that another attempt at replacing bearskins with synthetic furs has been refused for those regiments who protect the Paedo’s Mother. It is argued that the synthetic caps loose their shape. Here’s a mad idea, why not change the design of the stupid looking hat?
But I think I have a cracking idea. Why not have a reality TV show where members of the royal family are sent out into the Canadian Wilderness armed with a penknife and they have to find and fight a Black Bear for its fur.
If they are successful, then there is a new hat for a Guardsman. But if they lose, they’d need to abdicate or live in exile or more than likely, be shovelled up.
Fuck your Love Island – I’d watch that!
Hugh
(At time of writing I can’t confirm if the harry one has accepted the job as host.)
* I know that is the wrong lyrics but every now and then I like to re-iterate how bad that song is!!!
literally stories 