Here we are with another Saturday and another week closer to the dreaded ‘C’ word.
Just to let you all know that we will finish up on Saturday 23rd December and be back in the New Year on the 8th. Now if you are depressed and write the weirdest most deranged story in the world, send it in, we insist!
Continue reading “Week 153 – Holiday Break, Re-Reads And Crack For The Eyes (Allegedly)”
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Maggie and I sit on our front porch at dusk. We drink ice tea and watch the sun sink. In our fifty-five years of marriage, we have rarely missed a sunset.
Today, the sun bleeds through the haze, and the horizon is apple red. Maggie rocks in her rocker, knitting a shawl. I smoke a pipe filled with Captain Black tobacco.
Solomon Sands stood on the dock at Norfolk Navy Yard and wondered how the hunched skeleton in the wheelchair could have ever cut a fearful figure. River water, bay water, ocean water, chopped into crests and troughs, assaulted the USS Cormorant, ready for decommissioning this October day in 1868.
It took me over a year to convince my father to move into Riverview Gardens, and now, four months later, it looked like I’d done the right thing. He was eating well, sleeping well, even playing checkers most days with a man from Montreal. As for his dementia, it was no better, but no worse either. And, now that Riverview was in the process of building a new state-of-the-art facility with more space and more light and wonderful things like a pool and a library and a little movie theatre, I felt even more sure that I’d found a good, safe place for my father to live out his days.
Another week, another bunch of innocents. Egypt continues to be hit hard and our thoughts are with all those caught up in this mindlessness.
Continue reading “Week 152 – Journalism, Plagiarism And ‘Sinkin’ The Heid.’”
Lush land, loud with growls, moans, tittering, screaming, slithering, barking, buzzing, rustling, snarling, warbling, neighing…
Soft sounds of growing, dying, breathing, dissolving, materializing, joining, evaporating, hissing, pissing, lusting, listening…
Continue reading “Adam and Eve by Frederick K Foote – Please note – Adult content.”
Every morning he takes a Post-It, records exactly what she’s wearing, and sticks it on his desk phone. Today it’s “red blouse, green pants, purple sweater.” This way he can tell the police if he has to.
Thomas Darwin, his cheeks stained with tears and his body quivering, slowly marched farther into the frigid Delaware Bay. The crowd gathered on the beach shouted for Thomas to stop, to turn around, to return to the shore. Eventually he did stop but not until the water lapped at his bare chest.
Continue reading “Modern-Day Heroes by Douglas James Troxell”
Thanks again guys for all the lovely comments of last week we were all chuffed to bits!
OK, onto this week and we may have an old issue of mine. I will only mention this once. Well except for the notification that we take a break but that will only be a short sentence with two dates.
I have a hair up my arse for Christmas. And I’m making a point by making this point early. The Christmas celebrations are as premature as a horny teenager using a condom before they use a condom!
Continue reading “Week 151 – Face Grating, Sausage Rolls And The Christmas Puddle.”
His sister had suggested he contacted the TV production company that made the programme about hoarders. Those strange folks who collect things from bins, who live in houses so filled with clutter that they’ve been reduced to a small window of space in a back bedroom. Sometimes they’re rescued through a gap in the rubbish bags by the fire brigade. They argue until they’re blue in the face about the possible future utility of a broken coat hanger or a plastic duck.
literally stories 