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.
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.
Continue reading “Nature And Nurture – The Devil’s Mix by Hugh Cron – Adult Content.”
The Almighty was taking a bath. It had been a long week with the creation of the universe and whatnot, and He felt he was due some respite. The water was perfect, the temperature set just so. The tub big enough that he could stretch out and rest his head on the rim while playing with the two ornate gold taps at the far end with his toes. And of course, the bubbles. The good lord could never have too many bubbles. A small rubber duck bobbed up and down, it’s bright yellow head briefly appearing above the waves of suds before vanishing once more. Closing his eyes, he soaked in the pleasure of a good bath and a hard weeks work, and slowly but surely, he drifted off…
Continue reading “The Man Who Sold the World by Martyn Miller”
I’m getting this out the road this week and I’ll try and be nice next week!
I’ve avoided it for a while but the ‘C’ word is coming and not the ‘C’ word that I am comfortable with.
Continue reading “Week 204 – Christmas Pondering, Tattie Soup And Acceptable Leakage.”
Leila Allison has dug deep now into the archives and rooted out a gem from the early days with a story by June Griffin. This is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Margaret’s Mementos by June Griffin”
Here we are at week 203. That number seemed so boring that I didn’t even look it up!
I’ve been thinking about animals this week. And no, not in that way! I may be a bit strange but I’m not fucking deranged!
Continue reading “Glam Rock, Docken Leaves And Some Other Barry White.”
It was a Monday morning. A village hen clucked at the assembly, looking for its youngling. The school principal, Mister Rakobo, went off with the hen, leaving the assembly divided into several assemblies. The Mocking Birds choral conductor raised a hand, calming the sopranos and tenors that were going this way and that. “Whose mother is that?” inquired some. “Someone must have stolen money or something,” speculated some. “A family death? A bullying case?” Some concluded that this was not the case.
Leila Allison has chosen a story by Adam Kluger with this rerun. Not only is Adam a regular contributor he is a delight to work with. This is Leila’s comment:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Are We Both Broken by Adam Kluger”
He accepted the night. He always had. The street people never caused him any fear. It was a case of if he didn’t bother them, they wouldn’t bother him. The unapproachable demeanour which he carried also helped.
Bang! It went. Bang! Bang! Bang! A whole series of bangs, like gunshots at a shooting range, echoes coming atop one another, full of alarm and the awful promise of consequence. Eleven-year old George Pearl, twelve before you’d know it, his birthday but an hour or so away, ducked his head as he walked down the dark center road of Riverside Cemetery. Shadows of stones moved around him, angular blocks of darkness set upon darkness, the ground and the shadows giving up other noises steeped with night and night things. Sounds swelled like thermals, unseen but known, catching up what was loose in the air, broadcasting strange messages that he could identify in a split second … fear, catastrophe, disaster, strange hands reaching to touch his backside, strange sounds at his ears. All around were strange things that boomed or blasted or bellowed in the night.
Continue reading “A Cryptic Night for Halloween by Tom Sheehan “
