Lelia Allison reckons she has found a cure for melancholy of huge proportions with this story. This is what she said:
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Tag: short stories
Week 208 – Writing, Typing And Refusing The Nipple.
We are now at week 208. How time flies when you are having fun. I suppose it depends on the fun. If it is backwards time travel, would that phrase still be relevant? I watched ‘The Inglorious Bastards’ the other day. Wasn’t Rod Taylor a handsome man? I mean in ‘The Birds’ and not as an Australian Churchill.
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This story has been removed at the request of the author
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Week 207 – The Blues, A Hangover Cure And Bedding The Elderly.
Well here we are at week 207.
It must be a good seven days since our last posting. (Or a pish seven days for those readers in Scotland.)
I was listening to some Blues when I began to write this and John Lee Hooker came on with ‘One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer’ and I just thought that this was in the wrong order. The Bourbon would argue with the Whisky and you would end up enjoying neither of these. The song should be ‘One Bourbon, One Beer, One Scotch’ that would be more tasteful.
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The Pool by Elizabeth Appleton
Steam played across the water’s surface in lazy swirls, nudged by the breeze and stretching away like cigarette smoke. Behind the hedge, lips pressed to her kneecap’s polished, taut surface, she could taste salt on her skin and, somehow, it mingled with the vision of dragon’s breath steam above luminous water to punch a sudden ache in her throat. Smelling chlorine, she longed for the sea, for sand that grew cool as she dug her feet deeper, and her father’s hand on her bony, eight-year-old spine, walking her towards a quiet tideline.
Week 206 – Returning, Shitty Tinsel And A Lactating Dilema
Here we are at Week 206!
Like ‘Gremlins – The Next Batch’ – We’re back.
As in ‘Poltergeist’ – We’re here
And like ‘The Fly’ – If you send us Romance, I’ll ‘Be afraid, very afraid.’
I’ve been watching a few films lately, just to get the days in.
It was good to see the old site creak back into life on Monday.
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Story removed at the request of the author
Santa’s up Next by Tom Sheehan
Christmas was coming. Who’d be Santa Claus had suddenly gotten sticky.
There had to be forty or so kids living in the urban cul-de-sac, all of them in squashed-in apartments in a dozen three- and four-decker buildings, the pigeons on the roof often mingling with the kids at tall hide-‘n’-seek, romances in dark budding, now and then some contraband or stolen goods getting exposed, two or three gymnasts every generation that managed and used the roof tops for exercises, dares, escapes of one sort or another. Merton Place, from various points of view, was a city in itself.
And Christmas was coming. It was around the corner.
Switch Hitter by Suzanne Nielsen
Rita Sajevic lost her mind on home plate at 5:15 pm, two days after dual interviews at competing churches. She’d work the night shift cleaning 11 blocks from home. All this was in shorthand on her palm faded by cherry red ink. On her other palm was a tattoo of a fetus whose life ended tragically. After Rita relived the event, outside of confession mind you, I swore to several saints never to retell that story to anyone.
Nature And Nurture – The Devil’s Mix by Hugh Cron – Adult Content.
He looked around. It was dark but there were a few lights on the bridge. He stood in the middle and peered over the side, down into the water. The night was still and the smell of the trees and moss made him smile. The countryside always had that effect on him, this was as good a place as any.
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