“Call to order – case number five hundred and thirty three.”
“Good morning, please state your name.”
Tag: short story
Commerce and You: A Petrichor Instructional Film by Daniel Finkel
Good morning, and welcome to Volume 12 of The Petrichor Instructional Film Set.
Today, we are going to discuss the subject of commerce. Do you know what commerce is? Have you ever used commerce before? Well, let’s find out together.
Jimmy is nine and three-quarters. He will be ten next January. Then he will be all grown up, but for now he is still happy to help Mother weed the plants, fetch Father his glass of lemonade at the end of the day, and play with his sister, Sally. Say “hello,” Jimmy. Say “hello,” Sally. Jimmy and Sally both say, “Hello.”
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The Other Sister by Christopher Dehon
When my older brother and sister stopped telling me that I was adopted, they told me I was an accident. I’d believed the adoption story. I was a pale, pudgy redhead. They were perpetually tanned and lean. By the time I was a teenager, my brother and sister had left me alone with two tired parents who’d imagined being childless by now. The three of us silently ate at the kitchen table with the TV on. One night on the news, this mid-level star from a quickly-canceled pilot visited this autistic kid who called himself his “Number One Fan.” My dad laughed and said to no one in particular “If number one means ‘only.’” He didn’t get it. A-listers have thousands of fans. An A-lister never would’ve made it to this kid’s birthday party.
Last Call For a Loner by Tom Sheehan
He had never belonged anyplace, and that realization was slowly dawning on him. Of all the places he had been in this whole land, East Coast to West Coast, border to border, foothills or river’s edge, none came charging up in his memory rugged with warmth, none touched longingly at him; no village, no harbor, no vast plain running off to the far horizon, no collection of people near such places.
e-book: Literally Stories – The Anthology
When Literally Stories threw open its virtual doors on 16th November 2014 we had no idea what we were letting ourselves in for.
A lot of hard work as it turns out.
We published our first story, Post, by Jenny Morton Potts. A year later and somewhere not too far south of reading 1 MILLION words in all the wonderful stories that landed in the LS mail box, we remain very proud of our site.
Our writers. Our, ahem, eclectic oeuvre.
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The Loneliest Goddam Midnight of Them All by dm gillis
She wore juxtaposition the way a cubist wears a turtle-neck sweater.
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Nadia, My Chicken by Scott Warrender
I asked her if she was from Russia. She said “Ukraine,” but I was too embarrassed to ask if that was in Russia so I just nodded.
She hand-washed my blouses, and I loved her for that. I wanted to share the five habits of healthy living with her, but I didn’t know her well enough at the time.
· Never eat anything bigger than your head
· Stay away from dairy
· Drink lots of water and always add a flavor packet
· Don’t eat the things you want the most
· Train for a full marathon
In Flight Memory by Nik Eveleigh
The ice will wake you. You’ll hear it dropping in the plastic cup, sense it being passed in front of you to the woman in the window seat you haven’t spoken to since the flight began. You’ll drift, then you’ll open your eyes and stare into a face that would be prettier with less make-up. Her strip-light smile won’t fade as she asks you, patiently, for the third time if you’d like something to drink. You’ll order a gin and tonic even though you don’t want one because that’s what you do on flights. While she rummages for the gin needle in the haystack of unwanted brandy you’ll wonder if you’ll get peanuts or mini pretzels.
You’ll bet on pretzels.
And you’ll be right.
The Storyteller by Louis Hunter
Atop a hill in the moors sits an old man, wrapped in his beloved waterproof. It’s red with black buttons, and only some of them are missing. He sits on a carefully laid blanket, an empty space beside him, and sips from his Thermos. His gaze never shifts from the sister hill opposite him. In the drizzle and the fog, he is waiting for the ghost.
The air is cold and the sky is free to bloom with the tiny flourishes of long forgotten light. Next to the old man is another flask, untouched. He pats the blanket, gives it a tender little rub, and says:
‘She’ll be here soon, just you wait.’
Homes, Brothers and Fantasies by Tobias Haglund
I catch the sunrise over the bridge every morning before I sit down by the subway. It’s not because I particularly enjoy sunrises or because I somehow find comfort in them. It’s just on my way. That’s it. I live on the other side of the bridge and since most workers get up early, I also have to get up early. I try to hurry over. For some reason it’s easier to imagine us without a home. It’s within the very term homeless. It does happen that someone recognizes me and when they do, they’ll never again share a few coins. The magic is gone. I’m no longer just that homeless man who sits there waiting for them when they go to work, and still waits for them when they go home.
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