And following on from Week 241, here we are at Week 242.
That number is a palindrome.
That’s not very interesting but it makes you wonder why palindrome is spelt that way.
Tag: Short Fiction
The Womb is a Careless Weaver by Mark Benedict
The handsome interviewer smoothed his shiny red tie. “Says you’ve worked at the docks for practically your whole life,” he said, scanning Gwen’s resume on the other side of the desk. “That your crew unloads—whoa—a hundred ships a day? Is that true?”
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End of Time by Fernando Meisenhalter
She preps students for SATs, tells them that for some extra cash she can get them into the college of their choice.
The Girl with the Sealed Vagina by Vartika Sharma Lekhak
In Laajpur, a notorious town on the outskirts of Delhi, strange things were happening. The events had baffled everyone. Initially, some had dismissed it as sheer foolhardiness and some as an act of sorcery. But now people were beginning to panic.
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R&R in the Poconos by Tom Sheehan
In the quiet darkness, well past midnight, where we had been drinking for about three hours with modulated care (if you can believe it) beside someone’s massive pool in the Poconos, the narrow beam cast by a flashlight came with an alarming start down the barrel of a sawed-off rifle bound to spread pain, sac pain, heart pain, knee cap pain. The rifle and the projected flash were steady, likely in the hands of a confident man beyond rifle-range tough, the heavy voice not asking but demanding an answer: “Who the hell are you guys? Speak up quickly, one of you, before this popper gets away from me. I’m not the best shot in the world.” The qualification he added in a mimicking tone said it better than any hard-line threat: ” but I don’t have to be.”
Content removed at the author’s request.
Stuyvesant Square
This photo was taken by participant/team Tony as part of the Commons:Wikipedia Takes Manhattan project on April 4, 2008.
Literally Reruns – The Artists’ Gallery Rerun
Well, this is something different. Leila has unearthed our store of images. Not those ones that Hugh hid in the corner for when he wants to stick pins in politicians – No, the ones scattered through the stacks. This is what she said:
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Week 241 – Ladybird, Bundy And Diane’s Fire Accelerant For Perfect Smurf Colourisation.
If you are reading this and know anyone who is wanting to submit, please pass this on:
WE DON’T ACCEPT CHILDREN’S STORIES.
A Few Billion Leaves by Thomas Lawrance
Is it worth your lives? his father had asked him – repeatedly. Your lives? A bullet for a few billion leaves?
Well, he’d never understood it.
No, that’s not fair; he understood it perfectly well. That’s precisely why he feared.
He’d never come out to the settlement. Laisa asked, with deliberate frequency, why he never visited.
Because he’s afraid, Felipe explained.
Guns by Sean Patrick Campbell
Let me tell you about a few things that have changed since I was a boy.
Back then, there wasn’t a nice big garden outside our house like there is now, only a heap of muck and a puddle of ooze that we used to surf in on the broken-off door of a cement mixer. We’d wreck around in that puddle what feels like all the time, until Ma came out roaring, I’ll brain yiz if ye cross this door mucked! And off we’d dash into the house for tea, kicking off our battered trainers at the doorstep, beating the muck out of them on the wall and leaving them to crust over in the sun.
literally stories 