Aleppo, Syria (AP) — Prior to joining the Tawheed Brigade in opposition to the Syrian government, Anwar Addat was a computer technician who never gave much thought to politics or religion. That was before a barrel bomb delivered by a government helicopter ignited a fire that killed his wife and two children. These days he goes nowhere without his AK-47 and body armor, and looks every bit the insurgent warrior he has reluctantly become.
That morning, a May Saturday, when Fernando “Fred” Norstrand first put on the police uniform, solid blue deep as a line of defense, bright buttons shining gold-like running down the front straight as ideas cemented in his mind, his wife stood in the bathroom doorway in open admiration of the new spectacle. He had only recently taken off a Navy uniform, discharged from service because of injury. They loved each other that morning with a new and silent abandon, their baby son still asleep, the day already lopsided in their favor, and the man of the house about to start a new job. He had been appointed as a special policeman of the town, assigned to the lone local theater to keep the kids in line, Saturday being the toughest start of all; popcorn, noise, kids away from parental control, let loose from their homes, very different from the few homes he’d visited during Pacific duty and the home he had grown up in.
Michael the orderly, before it had all come down to the most private of acts, remembered his wondering if Marty and Valerie, in their lives beforehand, before the catastrophic crashes, before cement and machines and phone poles adjusted to flames around the piles of their motorcycles, he was a bull in bed, she was the puma come down to drink. Images loomed early on, lively, kicking images on how they must have cut a path to the heart of their appetites, their excitements, from what he heard up and down the entire east coast. Even pinned now to lives in rolling chairs, they evoked a fierce amount of energy, fire and brimstone, taste and distaste. Even then he thought the world of them, wanted to be god on the hill for them, Thor or Odin or a damned good magician with a damned good wand. Hell, he had the black skin; all he needed was the black hat with a few secret compartments.
It’s been a good run by anyone’s standards. My dealers can attest to it. I lived for months upon months in a altered state of mind. Climbed mountains with no problem. Maintained self control when other times I would’ve lashed out. A chemically induced transcendence. The phone calls I made were always answered. It was a mutual gain for us all. They desired finance, I desired freedom. In the end we both came out on top. Well, all that’s come to an end now.
Continue reading “Living Life on the Other Side by Michael Marrotti”
Hi folks, a load of nonsense before I get to a tip that I think most of us need reminding of (and I REALLY have to include myself in this!)
I was just thinking on some of the comments that I have read from my fellow Editors over the last week and one was the word ‘Underwhelmed’… Don’t panic.. .It wasn’t about a submission, honestly, it wasn’t. I don’t lie. I haven’t got the memory, intelligence or energy but I thought on this word. I am underwhelmed by so many things. Space travel, I don’t give a monkeys! Confirming that time ripples; well whatever a monkey doesn’t give, that’s my thoughts on that! An up-to-date phone… Ditto… In fact any phone! I haven’t got one. I hate them. Gwen once asked me if I wouldn’t feel guilty if someone had died and I hadn’t a phone? My answer was quite simple; ‘Answering the phone wouldn’t have helped.’ I am underwhelmed about the attributes (another word I read this week) of a phone! Argue all you want! Do we really need a camera, the ability to turn on the heating or being able to go online to order a curry with a thing that we could have used to call and ordered a curry with? I am forty nine in a few months and I have gotten here without a phone so as far as I am concerned, Nokia, Samsung, IPhone and Sony are about as useful to me as male make-up. I wonder about that also! It is beyond me. Live and let live is what I say, as long as I don’t have to moisturise before I do it. That brings me to another word I heard this week and that was ‘Dinosaur.’ And again before anyone starts to think back to what they have called me, it was me who called myself that! You’ll all probably agree, especially after reading these first few paragraphs that my self-analysis is pretty close.
Now back to ‘underwhelmed’ – (My links are getting worse! I think I will try to get a job as a local DJ) George Martin, who we were all sad to learn of his passing, took on a group that underwhelmed every other producer and they were ‘The Beatles’… I felt I had to explain that ‘just in case’ we have any Justin Bieber fans as readers. I don’t think so, as much as my understanding is, they will all be on their phones and putting on their make-up. Don’t know what the girls will be doing! (I know – You saw that coming a mile away!) Anyway, he saw something and heard something that he knew was special and that is a huge talent in itself. Marilyn Monroe was getting nowhere until a photographer suggested that she change her hair colour. Now the point of all this is that it is other people who see beyond our own ideas. Sometimes we go down the wrong road. We are so blinkered by our understanding of a story that we don’t consider how it comes across to the reader. Everyone who has picked up a pen will have had this problem at one time.
So – tip for today – try to separate your knowledge of your story when reading it back. Look at it and question if it is the finished article. If not, mould like Martin or at the very least, change your hair colour!
Now to this weeks stories! We had a strangeness about them all. So all good then!!!
On Monday we had Jonathan Payne with his story Surrounded. This was a strange tale that makes you think about the self.
Our fellow editor Nik had his story published on Tuesday. The Water’s Edge is an atmospheric, unsettling and beautiful piece of writing.
Wednesday had us publishing another multi-contributer. The talented Mr Fred Foote gave us a story that had his Author truly living his plot.
Another old friend and supporter of the site is James McEwan. On Thursday he showed how good weird can be with his tale Table By The Window.
And Friday, a story that touches on a horror that many live with, Bruce Costello’s thought provoking One Dick, Two Sheryls.
There is so much emotion and question throughout all these superb stories. They have been a joy to read. And unlike all you poor souls who are reading this, we have not been ‘underwhelmed’ by any of them! (Ayr’s West Sound Radio Station is getting ma CV!!)
Hugh
Abigail sat at the table by the window because she adored the view across the park. What a brilliant idea it was to have built her restaurant on this elevated spot. Since from within the dining room all her guests could enjoy the vista of the open space while they ate. They could delight in the comfortable elegance of the interior décor as they selected their gourmet meal, and still experience an ambience of the outdoors.
The park was full of life; from the tiniest of insects, to birds on the lake, and a range of wild animals. It was also a place where leisurely people walked their dogs; strolled for a breath of fresh air, or in colourful Lycra would jog along the wooded avenues. In the afternoons the restaurant veranda would be full of customers who engaged in their pastime of people watching as they consumed cream cakes with tea or coffee. But Abigail offered so much more than just coffee. She smiled and through the window she watched a young couple as they dawdled by. If only they knew.
I meet my celebrity client, Edmond C. Mayhew, IV in the City Jail Interview Room Seven. Mr. Mayhew has the rugged, handsome look of an athlete/movie star even in his baggy prison orange. He appears confident, a little tense and a bit annoyed to find himself in his current predicament.
“Mr. Mayhew, I’m—”
“I know who you are, Tecumseh H. Douglass, the legal magician who swoops in and brings the bright glory of victory to the most dismal and darkest moments of despair. It’s truly my pleasure to meet you, especially under these circumstances.”
Gregory Self woke earlier than planned, disturbed by scurrying and scratching sounds up above. Squirrels on the roof again. He lay awake, waiting for the noises to stop, but they only grew worse.
Reluctantly, Gregory rolled out of his bed and lolloped down the stairs to the kitchen, where he put the coffee pot on the stove. Even from down here the noises on the roof were loud and clear. He grimaced at a Bang! up above, followed by more scratching. Big squirrels.
OK folks, me again. Mr West is getting intimate with his new computer and has asked that we give him a few weeks to get settled. To me, new computers are the same as old computers, I hate them all. That’s because, they hate me. They do things that have never been seen before and for whatever reason they know just when to crash. Like, when I’ve just written that 3000 words of text and just been about to save. They know when I’m at my most vulnerable. They know to slow down when I’m in a hurry. And more importantly, they know when to throw me into a porn site when I am trying to show my mum something she would like on Ebay. I hate the fecking things and I wish Adam all the best as these necessities are the devil’s spawn!!!
Continue reading “Literally Stories – Week 63 – Inspiration”
“Isn’t this place just perfect?”
Jan was talking to herself as she wandered around her new home. He hadn’t moved from the lounge.
No! It isn’t. It’s fucking yours! Your house! Your money bought the fucking house! Yours!! Everything is yours!! It will always be yours! God!! I FUCKING HATE THIS!!!
His thought induced tantrum died down. He took a breath and thought of puppies. Eddie liked puppies.
literally stories 