Tag: short stories

All Stories, General Fiction

The Hunt by Frederick K. Foote

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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.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Portraits of the Dead and Dying by William R. Soldan

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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?”

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Latest News

Literally Stories – Week 56 – A Tale of Two Emails

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*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:

Wow. You must really have a special hate for this thing. I’m used to rejection, but I don’t think I’ve ever had anything given the old heave-ho twice in one week. To be honest, I concur. The story sucks.
Regards
*Gertrude Ponsonby
~~~~~~~~

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All Stories, Horror

After Evening Benediction by Bill Vernon

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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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Latest News

Literally Stories – Week 42

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The last week has thrown up all manner of political oddities from around the world – and I’m not just referring to Donald Trump’s combover which must be standing on end at the news that Arnold Schwarzenegger (an immigrant no less) has stolen his old job on The Apprentice. The Labour Party in the UK has a new leader several light years left of centre. Australia is going through Prime Ministers faster than a stuttering sports team changes managers, and just this afternoon in Burkina Faso a very large chap in an army uniform locked up the President.

At Literally Stories we try and steer clear of politics. No military coups for us. No bloc voting. Just an oasis of calm, storytelling quality in a world of turmoil.

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All Stories, General Fiction

This Face by Diane M Dickson

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Today I know this face.  I stare into the mirror and I know this face.  It is me, not the me that it was when we bought my mirror all those years ago.  Down in the antique market, Martin and I trawling for treasures to make our home and we found it dusty and forlorn, how pleased we were.  No it doesn’t show me that person, but it is the me of now and of just yesterday.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Underneath the Rose by Irene Allison

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It’s now three feet farther to hell for persons who’d jump off the Warren Avenue Bridge. The City of Bremerton has recently installed an eighteen-inch extension to the span’s rail. In my opinion, the city has wasted its money. The Warren goes up to a fatal height almost immediately, and at its middle it stands better than ten stories above the churning and hungry Port Washington Narrows. Only Serious Persons go over the Warren; less than serious persons, those who need just a little attention to feel better inside, never go to the Warren to perform on the off-chance that they might fall off. No, I don’t see a foot-and-a-half—in both directions—getting in the way of a well prepared and dedicated serious person.

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller, Story of the Week

Where Cherubs Sleep by dm gillis

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Vancouver 1949

There’s a direction a city takes when kids go missing. The virtues of due process are quickly abandoned, and the closet vigilantes come out. Suddenly, everyone has an opinion and a plan.

Supposition becomes fact. The police become worthless stooges, in league with the perversions of dark and faceless perpetrators. Rights and freedoms become the sole domain of the self-anointed, raging against the printed word that breaks the news.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Running by Des Kelly

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Down the street the girl with bright hair ran. She’s running still, in her own way. Trying to avoid the thing she was made to do.

It’s been years, and nobody knows. Except for her.

Hair streaming in the sun.

It reminds her of blood. She’d like to wash it away.

Slowly scrub the stain.

‘Salt.’ Granny would insist. ‘Use salt.’

There’s salt in her tears. It’s not the same.

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Editor Picks, Writing

Editor Picks by Vic Smith

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We invited Literally Stories author and friend, Vic Smith, to be Editor for a day and choose three great short stories from the site. Here is what Vic had to say about the three stories he chose and why he felt they were special.

This list of my three favourite stories from Literally Stories only crystallised as I set out to write it. These are the stories that meant most to me at that moment. At another time, when I’m in a different mood or when the weather has changed, it would be a different list. The depth of talent here is too great to be summed up in such a small number.

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