The front door is already locked but I find Dan hanging around the tree in the backyard, legs curled up around the topmost branch as if he’s the Cheshire cat or something. No stripes, but the swagger to pass as one, all smug and smiling. Eminently punchable. He gestures at me to come up, casually, the way someone might give orders to a dog. The last time I saw him he owned a slobbery mastiff he would feed Grade A beef to.
Continue reading “Treehouse by Hanwen Zhang”
The thing that you need to understand is, living beings die.
It’s not welcome, yeah. It is not something to look forward to, but it does happen. And, at times, it is kinda funny.
When daddy killed the deer, I found it funny how she toppled over the ground and crumpled on its back. There is something intricately funny about tragedy, seeing something regal just fall and shatter. When, at the end, the sun dies, I think God will also sit back and have a merry little chuckle.
Continue reading “When the Sun Dies by Tathagata Banerjee”
“Put ’em on t’ side,” Grandad croaked. He must have heard the kitchen door click open and shut.
He’d sent me to Mrs Byrne’s on the corner of Wightman Street for twenty Senior Service. “You can earn yer tea,” he said. “But mind I want change.” He gave me two half crowns. “Should be a bob.” He jabbed the stem of his briar at my face. “Think on.”
Continue reading “Sixty a Day Man by Andy Larter”
My friends had always been transparently envious of Molly, even if they weren’t verbalising this. But it was obvious.
Continue reading “My Unimaginary Friend by George Oliver”
Saudade: (n.) a nostalgic longing to be near to something or someone that is distant; the desire to be near again to what has been loved and then lost, “the love that remains.”
Continue reading “Just Give It Time by Matthew J. McKee”
After piling the paper bills from his last passenger and placing the square photograph of his wife on top of the money, the ferryman lights a match. He lowers it slowly, shaking. But just then a breeze blows out the flame, leaving nothing behind but a thin waft of smoke. There are no more matches, unfortunately. Now his hut—earthy, with a cot, a bucket, and a small shrine inside—feels emptier than ever.
Continue reading “Karass by Iván Brave”
Things really pick up at the fifteen-minute mark. Lionel Bottom, lead singer, is belting the chorus of “Baby Without Bottle.” He’s suffused in steamy shades of red and purple, highlighting the angularity of his spiky hair and turning his pasty skin pink. He holds the microphone like he’s choking it when he sings, “We are men we need no coddle / We’re like baby without bottle.” It’s a glorious crescendo, really marvelous, powerful stuff, exactly what The Scrum is all about. A crowd of five thousand worships the trio with bacchanalian ardor, yelling, dancing.
Continue reading “How I Made the Greatest Concert Movie of All Time by Adam Kaz”
I call my boss, whose texts I’ve been ignoring for days, and tell him I’m returning to work. He says not to bother. Serves me right. I’ve let everything go to hell since Arlene left. I vow to pull myself together. Tomorrow. I take a few diazepam and go to bed.
Continue reading “The Man Who Pulled Himself Together by David Henson”
What were you doing at the start of the Summer of ‘19? Once upon a time that question brought images of straw hats and trolley cars. But we now have a new ‘19 to define in our memories, though it is still a bit too green for that at the moment.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns Ghost Hats by Marco Etheridge”
Well hello there folks!
Here we are at week 469 and time for the relevant round up!
A couple of writing things have come up over the last week or so and we thought that we’d explore them further.
Continue reading “Week 469 – Always Listen,Honour Your Mammy’s Mammy And Never Crawl In Brown Water.”
literally stories 