We’d been drinking for hours when he asked me about her. Normally we talked about the rugby or pussy. It’s not that we didn’t have anything meaningful to say to each other; it’s just that when most guys get together they need an hour or two to talk shit before getting to anything real.
Man: Hello. I’m Peter. You are a lovely lady.
The lovely lady seated across from Peter: Well, thank you, Peter. I’m Georgia.
Peter: You are too pretty to be a state.
A courtesy smile.
Peter: You have perfect teeth.
Georgia: I brush between meals.
Peter: Good concept.
Georgia: You should try it.
Peter: I believe I will.
Georgia: Tell me, Peter, why are you here?
Peter (after a brief moment of reflection): I believe religion to be an archaic concept that caters to the insecurities of fragile, ignorant people. And you?
Georgia: Goodbye Peter.
Peter: Goodbye Georgia. Continue reading “From the Mouth of Peter Dowd by Fred Vogel”
The atavistic avatar dropped from space:
“I did it only to see the look on our face.”
1
On his way across the short overpass that unofficially connects Corson Street to Torqwamni Hill, Holly glances down at a small house below. It’s an ugly little fist-like rental that had gone up during the Second World War—as had countless others of its kind in Charleston. Like the caw of a crow or a bit of dandelion fluff getting stuck to your cheek, this house exists only in the moment you share with it. Yet nearly thirty years gone by, the same house had once unclenched and gave Holly a touch of honesty; thus it had it had earned in his mind its own small history.
Continue reading “The Inescapable Touch of Sunset By Leila Allison”
”I used to live up there, in the red house. My window was just behind the oak tree and I stared out during the night, over this graveyard. I guess you can imagine how I’d fantasized. Wandering ghouls and vampires. Back then only this lamppost existed. Not that one or the one after. This lamppost was like a lantern, a lonely lantern in the dark, and during damp autumn nights when it was dead silent I snuck down here and stood next to it. Heard only the flickering sound of the lightbulb. The hedges were walls all around me. And when a wind flew through the branches and when someone visited the graveyard, I hid in the bushes.”
Erica pressed out a mint from the candy tube and ate it. “Time to go?”
Sam held the squirming green legs with both hands while Nick held the long scissors, trying to get the blades in the proper position. He prodded the tip of one blade into its mouth, the other blade hanging above the smooth skin behind its raised eyes. With one quick squeeze the steel sliced cleanly through the frog’s skin and the head flew into the air. The squirming had stopped. Sticky red fluid flowed out of the opening and onto Sam’s pink palm. Sam set the body on the lab counter and both boys’ mouths hung open as the frog crouched into its normal sitting position. It didn’t even seem to miss its head. Nick touched the frog with the moist tip of the scissors. The boys jerked back quickly as the headless frog jumped off the table onto the cold gray floor. Not knowing what to expect next, they kept their eyes on the frog, which was now motionless. Their eyes darted from the floor to each other as they stood in silence. A sudden burst of laughter broke through their bewildered expressions and echoed through the empty classroom.
How were they to know?
“Hi, I’m Stacey!”
Oh wow, hiya! It’s been ages since I had somebody cool to talk to in person. You’re cool, right? Yeah, ‘course you are. New to the whole ‘undead’ gig, I take it? Just last month? Yeah, I’ve got a couple of years on you but it’s really not that much. I remember all the changes, it’s super crazy. I guess your master has you covered on the basics and the mouldy old traditions… uh huh, they totally leave out the important stuff! No worries, I’ll fill you in. Oh, and you can call me Stace for short. Anyway, where was I?
People have asked just how it was that Sandra and me got together in the first place. I mean, it seems a bit unlikely, if you know what I mean. After all, there’s Sandra, small, educated, a right stunner that makes men choke on their beers at first sight, a snappy dresser that causes men’s eyes to wander rapidly southwards in the hope of even better stuff below, and a helpless looking nature which she uses to good effect when she wants somebody to do something for her. Not that she needs it, as she is quite capable of looking after herself whenever there is nobody else around.
We were all friends once. The three of us. Till she caught the two of us together. And when I mean to say together, I mean together not just in the biblical sense, which was true enough, but together as in in love. That was our big secret of course, and when Rose found out, understandably she wasn’t having any of it. I suspect she’d always known Tommy and I were jerking around together behind her back, which I don’t think she minded as Tom says she never was one for sex too much anyway and she probably figured us doing what we did took some of the pressure off her. Maybe. But the look she got when I finally had it out with her that day over at the park, on that little wooden bridge that crossed the little creek that more than half the year was dry, and I told her outright, and she pushed me off that bridge and said she’d see about that. That day, the creek wasn’t dry.
Well last Saturday we reached the hundred week mark. We have to thank everyone who read or commented or both, that is what the site is all about. We have also had over one hundred thousand hits on site! This is brilliant and we only wish that those who hit were either sending us in stories or commenting! Well maybe not, there are only five of us, but we would love the chance to be overwhelmed!!
Continue reading “Week 101 – Darts, Dalmatians And Type ‘A’ Personalities”
Another week and another wee change. I think we had to.
Week 100!!!
We’ll get to that soon but we wish to begin with what is the most important part in all this, the stories.
This week we had four out of the five stories from new writers!!
Topics are as eclectic (I need to find a new word) as usual. We have Science Fiction, institutionalisation, exploration with failed manipulation, expectations and realism and a continuation. (Try saying that with a few haufs doon ye!!)
As always, our comments follow.
On Monday we were very pleased to introduce Nyx Bean with ‘Her‘. As with all our new writers, we welcome Nyx and wish her every success with her writing. What a cracking week to become involved!
‘This stands out.’
‘Great imagination linking the ‘other world’ with a recognisable earth…and a cat!’
‘Very imaginative.’
Wylie Strout was next up. Same welcome and we will add a hope you all have more for us to all the new folks!
Wylie’s short, ‘The Forgotten Tomorrows‘ was published on Tuesday.
‘Good writing. Wylie captured the loss and hopelessness very well.’
‘She depicts a broken and fragile state of mind brilliantly.’
‘It was an uncomfortable read but it needed to be.’
Our third new writer was published on Wednesday. This is getting repetitive but we welcome and wish Alex Colvin every success on the site.
The intriguingly titled ‘The Flexible Rules Of Anthropology‘ was next up.
‘This was well done and gave me a few laughs.’
‘The historic thinking was a point which he put across very well.’
‘The humour is a deliberate throwback to the explorers of old and their ‘superiority’.
Our fourth and final first time story teller was Louisa Campbell with her bitter-sweet tale ‘Snowflakes‘ which was published on Thursday. Which, I might add was our two year anniversary!! More welcomes, hopes and wishes are thrown at Louisa in a loving way!
‘This was as short as the marriage and she tied in expectations with reality beautifully.’
‘Subtle and really sad.’
‘The secretary picking a stiletto for her was maybe a symbol of what was coming.’
And then came Friday. There is no introduction needed. The one and only Leila Allison finished off a very enjoyable week with ‘A Hundred Year Old Man‘
‘Another smasher. You go back and continually find something else to appreciate.’
‘So many wonderful lines. They are a joy to read.’
‘Not talking Thursdays should be a real thing!!’
A Message From Us…
Well we got here. One hundred weeks and our two year anniversary on the sixteenth, I reckon we have done ‘no bad!’
We decided on a free hand for each of us to write whatever we wanted but I do reckon that most of us will hit on the same things.
It has been an absolute pleasure to be involved with this and for that Mr West has to be applauded for his initial idea and vision. I hope that we have continued to work to the ethics and integrity and more importantly, the quality that Adam first thought on.
You all may have noticed that he is still absent from the site, but he continues to have family commitments that he is dealing with. We are in contact with him and continually up-date him on what has been happening. Adam not being directly involved is a loss, we all miss him and we only hope that this is temporary. I know that I have to thank him for taking a chance on a rather uncouth individual to be part of this wonderful site. I wish him well and I know that he wants me to pass on his thanks and every success to all of you.
Onto our writers. It has been a pleasure. There are some of you who I can’t believe I am sharing a site with. The talent that I have witnessed is way beyond many commercial successes that I have read. The imagination, description, characterisation and overall skill has been a joy to read.
A run of the green and a roll of the dice is all that you need to elevate from hobby to living. Please remember us when that million dollar deal turns up!!!
The other folks that I have to thank are those who continually comment. We all love a comment and it is great to see that we have a crux of our writers who continually to do so. Some of the reviews and understanding are as good a critique as from any professional. This gives the site a sense of life and community. I still would love it if all the shy ‘Like’ folks would hit us with their thoughts.
I don’t want to mention specific writers as, well, we are a sensitive bunch and none of us are used to rejection!! But I hope that within my comments to you individually, you can understand the respect and regard I have for each and every one of you.
Lastly I have to say a big thanks to my fellow editors for their guidance, advice, tolerance and patience. Their friendship means the world to me.
Well that has been a bit of a love in. Not something I am used to doing as I’ve been married too long and have a list of enemies who have a note of my name!!
Maybe next year we could go with a ‘Who fucked us off’ theme…
Thanks to you all!!
I lift a glass and wish you ‘Aw The Best!!’
Hugh
***
I second everything that has just been said, well maybe not the theme for next year – but then I’m always open to suggestions !
I had no idea, when we first began this thing just what was going to happen. I imagined it would be a small site where we could possibly showcase some of our own work and maybe have some interest and more importantly, input from other authors. What actually happened has amazed and delighted me. We have read hundreds and hundreds of stories, one of the guys can probably tell you just how many, I can’t, numbers are not my thing. But, even more important than the quality and quantity of the written work is the friendships that we have forged.
The editors have been mates for a while, ever since our days on another short fiction site but the circle of friends we have now, among such gifted and prolific writers has enriched my life more than I would have thought possible. I am, I freely admit, a reading nut and a writing fool so, how wonderful to be connected, albeit virtually with this wonderful group of wordsmiths. Thank you all so much for your efforts, your good will, your kindness and your friendship.
And to my fellow editors I just want to say, I love having you guys as part of my life. We have had some sticky times and some hilarious times and it’s all been wonderful. I don’t do writing groups and stuff like that and after doing this with you guys anything else would be second best anyway.
Diane
***
Least but not last. Not only is it fitting for my capacity of coherence but it’s also Sweden’s motto for the Olympic Games. Literally Stories is like a classroom (it’s not at all like a classroom, but follow along anyway). Every week stories appear. We dissect, analyze, discuss, reason, debate, throw paper and chew gum. Since I’m the misfit, I chew paper and throw my gums. We don’t always agree, but often do and it has never been boring. In fear of losing the attention span of the average internet user, I now throw to punch lines.
Fun facts (of varying degrees of comprehension) about me:
I was once voted the most beautiful unjust man. I had to give up the title though. “Tobias just isn’t fair anymore.”
I was once wrongly convicted for death threats after calling too loudly for Diane.
I’m back. I’m hitting my quota. Half a decent joke per post. I traded the other half with Hugh for a glass of pish. My editors deserve a serious ending. They make me smarter, wittier and better. Because they ARE smarter, wittier and better. They are also more helpful; they’re pulling my dim ass to higher levels.
The sincerest and most non-jokingly thank you I can muster
Tobias
***
And after least, comes last. And possibly leaster.
It isn’t a word but it should be.
It’s a quite lovely moment to be able to reflect on one hundred weeks of stories, and two years that have changed my life for the better. As my fellow editors have already noted, we were just a bunch of people who met (virtually at least) via a short story site that was slowly sinking and wondered if just maybe we could put something together ourselves.
I guess we can officially confirm now that we just about managed it.
We live in extraordinary times. If you’d have told me twenty (ten!) years ago that four of my closest friends would be people I’d never met I’d have thought you were bonkers (and then run off to write a story about it) but it’s the absolute truth. Reading stories, sharing thoughts with the editors and having a lot of fun in the process has become as much a part of my routine as gin on my cornflakes.
Their advice on my own writing has been invaluable. The opportunity to read brilliant, imaginative and, on occasion, breathtaking stories on a daily basis is a privilege.
It takes time, effort and a whole lot of unpaid love to keep this place going – but it’s worth it.
Thank you to everyone who has made, and continues to make, a contribution to LS. I can’t wait to see what other tales you have up your sleeve for the next 100 weeks…
Nik
***
Memorable Lines.
Just as an ending folks, we have thought on a few lines that we believe to be exceptional. Yep, we may have missed some and this is all about opinions, but here are those words that have stayed with us from the moment we read them!!
These are few among many but are a tiny example of the excellence of the stories we have the opportunity to share.
***
When do temptations within a man overcome his better angels?
Her memories stain the fabric and soul of our home with light and move me to both laughter and tears.
The coffee is as fine as the morning, as hot as the rising sun.
The cancer done got you, boy. Got you from asshole to elbows. Not much we can do, but wave to you as you go.
In the beginning the days had no names. Jerry chased soap bubbles in the sunshine over freshly-cut grass, while his father strummed the guitar. Life was an easy rhythm of wonders with no conceivable end.
It’s not clear to me how I would introduce myself were it not for this job.
(Matthew Richardson – A Life On Track)
It’s a hell of a thing to look into a face that knows nobody gives a damn anymore. You see it in stray cats, mostly.
(Leila Allison – A Hundred Year Old Man)
literally stories 