The service station was different. While it was busy, it was quiet: a gentle hum of conversation and the odd rattle of cutlery and crockery. Everything was calm. There was no panic, no urgency, no pain.
Continue reading “Hartshead Moor Services – Westbound by Matthew Roy Davey”
Willie Ferguson lay staring at the wee cracks in his bedroom ceiling. Like a lot of people, he hadn’t realised, til he stopped working, that he was missing something. It sure as hell wasn’t the job that he missed: he’d collected his pension with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t family either: his sister, Margaret, living behind a privet hedge down in England, was emphatically a distant relative, and should ever remain so. But Willie knew he really was missing something.
Continue reading “Searching for Unicorns by Michael Bloor”
Ian was a stereotype.
I didn’t really know him but I knew his wife.
The reason I say ‘stereotype’ is that he was a raging alcoholic but unbelievably functional. The usual story here, he worked in the entertainment industry as a lighting man for a theatre and that was a life that had alcohol not just at the end of the day, also throughout. As long as he could shine a spotlight and in these more technical days, programme a system, no one gave a shit.
Continue reading “Ian by Hugh Cron”
Here’s a treat – Everyone loves Leila and she has been a tremendous asset to the site since well before she agreed to join the editing team. So, let’s find out more:-
Continue reading “Sunday Whoever.”
This is my first posting of the New Year and I hope that you all had a cracking time that you either can’t remember or won’t regret!
I should be happy and uplifted.
And I am in an inverted way due to some shite that we need to put up with. (It gave me this posting).
Continue reading “Week 463 – Transparency, Blanketing Eradication And He Also Knocked It Off.”
No one can understand why Elena stays, and neither can I. If it had been me, I’d have left; there are plenty of other Cornish seaside towns to live in. Actually, if I really had climbed those steps and seduced a sixteen-year-old like Elena did, I’d have jumped from the watchtower onto the rocks below. They were discovered in the act by the caretaker, Jim.
Continue reading “Watchtower by Rebecca Klassen”
“I won’t talk about the past anymore,” she said. “I’m only talking about what will happen from now on. I’m using this pain to make something wonderful.”
He held her hand, like he had so many times. Her masculine hands. Creative hands for making wonderful things. Like her saddest smile.
Continue reading “Doll Parts by Ximena Escobar”
“I need to speak to Peter.”
Ann looked at him and worried straight away.
“What’s wrong love, why has he got you so riled – I mean, for fuck sake, he’s Peter, the most inoffensive wee guy that we’ve ever known.”
Colin gave her a hug, “I don’t want to say anything until I hear his side.”
Continue reading “Peter by Hugh Cron (Strong Adult Content)”
On July 5 of 2033 Antarctic bases McMurdo, Davis, Casey and others reported earthquakes of 6 magnitude on the Richter scale. South Africa and Tierra Del Fuego in South America had minor tsunamis shortly after the earthquakes. Helicopters flew to the suspected center of the disturbance near the South Pole. What they saw was deeply disturbing. An area of hundreds of thousands of square kilometers had subsided anywhere from a few to a hundred meters deep. What appeared to be naked humans were slowly digging out of the steaming slush. As the observers goggled at the scene, something like a red guided missile flew out of the depression so fast it was just a blur. There was no safe landing place, so the helicopters which were short of fuel flew back to their bases. When the film they had taken was released, the world observed a second odd event.
Continue reading “Kingdom Collapse by Doug Hawley”
“Sir?”
The Artist jumped, whirling away from the attic window out of which he had been staring.
“Stay there,” he barked, and the figure he had been sketching immediately froze, Lot’s wife on the heels of her one bad decision.
Continue reading “This is My Rifle, This is My Gun by Shannon Greenstein”
literally stories 