Tag: Short Fiction

All Stories, General Fiction

A Thousand Little Benjies by Mohammad Sadegh Sadeghi

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I

A thousand little Benjies constantly talk in my head. A thousand little creatures speaking, some in subdued almost suppressed and some in apprehensive yet hollow tones, somewhere in my head. They all talk, all of them, together, simultaneously. Shut up, shut up, shut up. They keep repeating those words. Like parrots on cocaine, they keep repeating those words. Blah, Blah, Blah. Tickets please, sir. I was sitting, and the clock went one, then two, then three, then she came picked me up and then we were here and I was sitting again but we were moving. And we are moving, and they are moving, and those are moving, and maybe it was a bicycle and not a bike. Maybe we’re not moving at all, and it’s just my head horsing around. I have liquid memories and container moods, the latter follows shape and the former follows suit. I press my eyes against my palms, and I melt right through. They won’t let me forget. These bastards won’t let me forget.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Farewell Persephone by Virginia Revel

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“I see her always as she was then, lit with lucent yellow from a jagged tear in the eternal cloud cover, eyes locked with mine, mutely but unmistakably saying farewell.”

            This is the first sentence of the novel ‘Farewell Persephone’ by my uncle Marcus Carradine. Below the title he inserted a quotation:

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold

The Second Coming

William Butler Yeats

 

I found the manuscript of ‘Persephone’ in my uncle’s house three weeks after he died. ‘Manuscript’ is a literal term in this instance; Marcus despised word processors and wrote his book in longhand. He used to tell me that the movements of his hand and arm made the creative juices flow. Literary composition was a physical thing. He said, too, that his aim was to ‘possess the world and make it gravid.’

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All Stories, Latest News, Writing

Week 194 – Reincarnation, Twin-Tubs And Diane Checking Out A Bell-End.

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I was wondering this week if I should offer my seat to older people when I am on the bus? What if they are younger and fitter than me but just don’t look it? Granted that might be difficult due to my white beard, fucked side, bags under my eyes, limp and general scowling.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Winter by Wm. Brett Hill

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When I was seven the world blew up.

I was in the depths of a nightmare when my mother, tears streaming down her face and her voice raspy like torn cardboard, shook me awake and dragged me from bed.  I was in the air before I knew what was happening, my favorite friend Fitzy hanging from my frightened grip as we bounded down the stairs and headed out the back door.

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All Stories, Literally Reruns, Writing

Literally Reruns – Post by Jenny Morton Potts

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And now – we are pleased to introduce our reruns – as chosen by you. We are thrilled to have this story suggested by David Henson, a stalwart of the site, as our first Rerun.

If you have a story that you really believe needs to be brought out, dusted off and given another airing, write a little introduction, send us an email and we’ll do the rest.

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All Stories, Horror

Bone Girl and The Snake — An Infected Love Story by David Henson

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I come in and find Evie, wearing only a thong, standing on the kitchen table, bowing. I lean my guitar against the wall and admire my girl. I never get tired of her skeleton. The tat stretches from her forehead to the tips of her toes. Front, back and sides. She’s a masterpiece although sometimes I wish the skull didn’t hide her beautiful face.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Fries and Coffee by John Brantingham

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I found Ginny at the diner with her face square against the linoleum of the table. I thought she might be crying to herself, and I thought that tears were maybe a good thing. The waitress, Joyce by her name tag, asked, “Is she yours?”

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All Stories, General Fiction

Phantom Pain by T D Calvin

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My appointment is at twenty past eight.  I stand waiting outside the surgery at half seven – when the receptionist opens the main door she fires me the same kind of look she would to a drunk or an addict but I pay no attention.  In the waiting room I flick through an abandoned copy of the Observer and enjoy the sensation of being the only person here, the only person Doctor Matheson is preparing to see.  I like to book the earliest appointment she has on any given day – I like the thought of being first on her list of priorities.

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All Stories, Latest News, Writing

Week 191 – Silence, Love Tips And A Request To Any Somalian Pirates.

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Well here we are at Week 191.

I was thinking on what to write yesterday morning and this came to me.

You see, I travel to work by bus. I like buses but I hate passengers. Why can’t folks simply be quiet. I don’t want to hear someone on their phone talking a lot of pish. I don’t want to hear old people talking about their many, many varied, oozing ailments and I especially don’t want to listen to young mothers talking complete nonsense to their noisy little shit-machines. I had one woman hushing her screaming kid for around three miles. The kid had shut up after two but this Sean Connery snake woman continued to ‘Shhhh’.

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