Tag: violence

All Stories, General Fiction, Horror

Paraffin Lamp by Alex Sinclair – Warning – strong language and content that some readers will find upsetting

literallystories2014

“Verminous dole scrounging deadbeats poetically whingeing that’s all it is, lamenting wistfully about the plight of their work-shy genes. The Celtic curse so it is, forever waxing philosophical about being a shite for brains’ pisshead.”

He stops. He has run away with himself and he can’t remember what he was talking about.

Packy is barely cognizant of where he is. He exists in half dream, half myth.

Continue reading “Paraffin Lamp by Alex Sinclair – Warning – strong language and content that some readers will find upsetting” →
All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

Violent Lives by Michael Ventimiglia

literallystories2014

Stomach is a damn hard taste to forget. Even before the bile claws its way up your throat, you can taste it—hot metal and candy aspirin. Then you can smell it, too. Sharp and noxious, the promise of chewed food and belly acid to come. I hate to even think about it, but memory’s a certain breed of sadist, and it knows what we dread the most.

Continue reading “Violent Lives by Michael Ventimiglia” →

All Stories, General Fiction

Tender by Brianna Wyble

literallystories2014

I feel the scream rise, but I crush it back down into a solid lump of coal, and then further, harder, until it becomes an imperfect diamond of rage stuck in my throat. I can’t let it out. I can’t swallow it. It sits, laboring my breathing. I shove it down as hard as I can, store it, just like all the others. The rage, the sorrow, the pain. It all goes to the same place.

My life is like a demented fairy tale where the princess barfs jewels and escapes the evil Prince in her shitty Honda. I should be rich from all this.

Continue reading “Tender by Brianna Wyble” →

All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

Son of Violence by Michelle Assaad

literallystories2014

DSC_0592

Freddie knew there were some people you could disrespect and others you had to treat with reverence. He was in a restaurant looking at a man sat at the bar. He knew instinctively that this was a man who was not to be fucked with.

He looked back down at his bowl of spaghetti and ordered his wife to do the same. She did but every once in a while peeked up at the man from the corner of her eye.

She had a bad feeling about him.

Continue reading “Son of Violence by Michelle Assaad” →