On the planet Sellinger-Shapiro, in the country of Marr and Etta, near the banks of the River Hoochee, Haud Nomen- the handsome long-haired boy- grew up with his best friend, the common citizen, Sisellia.
Continue reading “The ASKii Of Aikido On The Planet Sellinger-Shapiro by Rabbi Steven Lebow”
“Whatcha reading?”
“Moby Dick”
“Yeah, I like that one… read his others?”
Jim sat in the living room with his gun on the coffee table staring at the wall. He had just locked her in his bedroom and was contemplating his next move.
“Hello cat! Balancing your arse on the window sill again. You need to lose weight…Pot and kettle…I know!!”
What are you chirping at? Ah, I see, the birds, how ironic!” Someone should have heard that, it was mildly amusing.
“You don’t need to puff up you idiot, I see him. What do you think? Breakdown or directions?”
Continue reading “To Kill John Morgan by Hugh Cron – Adult Content”
Craterville came up like the rock came down, in one helluva hurry. When the dust cleared, there was a town where the hole used to be, and a hundred or more shafts were slicing down into the earth. After six men were shot, five of them bushwhacked, one surprising a thief deep in his digs, the saloon owner, Harry Wilkes, called a meeting of town businessmen. Wilkes once was a conductor who got off his train one day outside Omaha and never got back on.
Continue reading “The Craterville Catastrophe by Tom Sheehan”
“This is Dick trying out his new tablet.” Dick keyed in the words and touched TTS. Key in your words, the salesman had explained, touch TTS, and the tablet will speak back what you’ve written.
“This is Dick trying out his new tablet,” a female voice repeated.
Dick’s eyes lit up. He keyed in another sentence and hit TTS again.
“My name is Sheryl and I love you,” the woman said.
I low gear the Mazda pickup down the dirt road to the floodplain. The headlights help me find my way as the sun peaks over the horizon. I park by a small pond with stunted trees and knee-high shrubbery.
I grin at Mac, my big Airedale, rub his neck; he shakes his head, eager for the hunt. I grab the thermos of coffee. Mac and I move to the back of the truck. I open the top of the camper shell. Shaft and Dart, the brindle and the white greyhounds, greet me with muzzles and tongues and an eager trembling.
Dwight had just torn open the pack of Lucky Strikes he’d stolen from Mort’s Little Shopper when we saw the plane going down. We were in the patch of woods behind St. John’s, where we liked to horse around on those long summer afternoons when our mothers were working and our fathers were either slouched in front of the TV or down at Miller’s Tap tying one on.
“Holy Shit!” Dwight said. “You see that?”
Continue reading “Portraits of the Dead and Dying by William R. Soldan”
*The names in this blog have been altered to protect the innocent — not the guilty.
Email One — 23 December 2015.
Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro’ the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…
In actual fact Twas the night before the night before Christmas, when an email landed in the Literally Stories inbox. Attached to the email a short story for our perusal.
Standard acknowledgement email is dispatched by yours truly.
All well and good.
Christmas came and Christmas went. New Year beckoned. New Year came and was soon spent and the story we received 23rd December continued to languish in our gmail account.
Forgotten. Unloved. Unread.
9 January 2016 — Email Two.
A standard rejection email is sent out to a much-loved LS published author, *Gertrude Ponsonby.
11 January 2016 — Email One
Email One is unearthed by the same buffoon who forgot to bring it to the attention of fellow Editors. Sincerest apologies email is duly dispatched to potential LS author patiently awaiting a reply:
Sorry *Engelbert — we somehow failed to flag up your story for reading… we will read it and get back to you very shortly.
12 January 2016 — Email One
Email is sent to the author of unloved, abandoned, forgotten story to tell them it is no longer unloved and will soon have a home at Literally Stories.
14 January 2016 — Email Two
A standard rejection email is sent out to the much-loved LS published author, *Gertrude Ponsonby; the same author who received the same email for the same story five days previously.
Oops!
Later that day
Much loved LS published author replies with typically pithy good humour:
Continue reading “Literally Stories – Week 56 – A Tale of Two Emails”
At nine years of age I met Monsignor Karavich up close when he invited me onto the altar during benediction alongside Michael Dolanski, the heroic high school halfback. Until then, the priest had been an other-worldly figure, an unreal actor on stage, looming above and orating as I knelt silently at a pew, trapped in place by my mother’s piety.
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