I was thinking this week about quitting.
As always with me this started out as something positive but it sort of declined. It’s a bit like when an elderly person is ill and you use the old remedy of putting goose fat on their back. You then watch them going downhill quickly. (Thank you Mr Milton Jones for that one!)
Continue reading “Week 202 – Quitting, Erratic Pishing And Fun With Cannibalism.”
Alicia snapped awake. There was a fine silk cobweb covering her face. It felt as if she was suffocating. She reached out, clawing at her face, scratching off the surface texture. She was down to the scars when the blood started to flow.
Leila Allison has been mining in the nether regions of the site again and this time has managed to embarrass one of the editors.
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Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Mercy by Diane M Dickson”
Almost sort of exactly 201 years ago, Jane Austen died. I must confess I haven’t read much (any) of her work despite Pride and Prejudice and Zombies being on my reading list for some time. Never being one to allow a lack of knowledge to get in the way of a good opinion however, I’m prepared to wager that her collective works didn’t contain many references to the humble kilogram.
Young Jane would have been almost sort of exactly 18 when the French said pas plus to the grain related measurements of the time and invented the kilogram. She would have been far too busy working on her short novel Lady Susan to bother with such new-fangled frippery. She no doubt noted however that the initial name for this kilogram was a grave and as such the literary seed for her zombie based works was sown.
Continue reading “Week 201: Graves, Literature and Almost Certainly Some Other Stuff”
Odd, peculiar, freakish people roll into my life as regular as the tides, but with the most unexpected, extraordinary, and bizarre results.
After a short rest, when she thought he might fall asleep, Amy reached round to slap her sweaty lump of husband on the back.
“Get off now.”
With a groan, Brad peeled his slick torso from hers, rolled off and collapsed, naked and vulnerable. Their mixed sweat chilled the front of Amy’s torso, but she didn’t have time to shower.
Taddeo gets up with the sun; he prides himself on not being one of those Brazilians who think every day should be carnaval. He looks out his twelfth floor window at glass and concrete towers that are home to people from all countries of the world, people who live peacefully together. He’s proud of his adopted city.
I am here. I am here. I. Am. Here.
With eight hundred miles of road under my butt in the last three days, my blood sugar barely holding the line, a couple of old wounds still talking sass to me, whatever else was bugging me besides my errand, fell off the face of the Earth when Disher Menkin’s wife Elsie, the new widow, still somewhat of a knockout though she’d collected some flesh under her chin she’d never try to hide, a few other imperfections lost in a surprisingly good figure, hardly ever taciturn at best, said, “Where the hell have you been, Coop, when we needed you most?”
Continue reading “Company of Angels, Company of Men by Tom Sheehan”
Ms Allison has revisited an old story by one of the site’s most prolific writers and we think it’s wonderful to see this having a new crack of the whip. Swan River Daisy is the story that she has pulled from the dusty archives and this is what she said.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Swan River Daisy by Tom Sheehan”
literally stories 