All Stories, Historical

The Generation We Lost by Nik Eveleigh

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“All things bright and beautiful
All creatures great and small
All things wise and wonderful
The Lord God…”

*

“I was told I should report here. What do you need me to do?”

“Shovels are over there, buckets are behind you. Dig or help carry it away.”

*

“Each little flower that opens
Each little bird that sings…”

*

“I’m sorry Mrs Jones but you’ll have to move back. They’re going as fast as they can.”

“I just need to know if Tommy is OK. He is OK isn’t he? He said he was feeling sick this morning but you know what they are like on last day of school…”

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Literally Stories – Week 60 – Censorship

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I know that there will be tears all round as you begin to realise that Mr West is tied up and not able to do this week’s round-up. There will be even more tears when you read this and realise that it is me who is filling in! Adam is excellent at tying up the weeks and giving us some excellent meaningful meanderings relating to the said week so I thought I would do the same.

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Literally Stories – Week 59 – Somewhere Over the Rainbow

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According to Wikipedia no-one was born in the year 59. Two people died. They were Roman. Or possibly Greek. I have never heard of them or know anyone who has, therefore I must set aside any attempt to find some common ground, some tenuous link between the 59th week of publishing on Literally Stories and events1957 years ago.

Instead I will announce the forthcoming Author Galleries. They are happening soon. Coming forth. Pages and pages of head-shots of the writers who patronise LS.

If you have sent us a photo you will be there. Alongside another writer. Randomly situated amongst your fellow authors, each picture an alternative portal to the author’s published works on the site.

Opportune to ask anyone who has employed the services of a professional for the purpose of capturing their image, their author-ly avatar, to confirm whether that photograph is subject to copyright and if so to let us know if there is any attribution required to accompany it.

Copyright being what it is we don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.

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Literally Stories – Week 55 – Allergens not in BOLD: strong language, dodgy humour.

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Hurrah!

Santa was back on form this year. He clearly read the message I left him, very carefully unlike last year when some incompetent stand-in or faux Mr. Claus totally f***** up.

Dear Santa I wrote — as you do — I would be most grateful if you could kindly arrange it that your elves assist you in the delivery of a number of…

Now conjure up a long list of ‘literary books’ by the likes of Orwell, Dostoevsky and other suitably heavyweight names including Albert Camus.

NB: To avoid severe embarrassment as once suffered by yours truly, please note that Mr. Camus was born in Algeria (then French Algeria) and his name is pronounced, not unsurprisingly for the French, Al-Bear Ca-Moo.

Not Al-But Ca-Mus.

Any road, as we say round these parts, you can imagine the puzzlement, nay sinking feeling that besieged me, when unwrapping many book-shaped packages I came across The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton and did not subsequently discover The Outsider by said Algerian.

YA fiction is not, as you would no doubt hazard a guess, top of my must-read genre list, but to be fair to S.E.Hinton I read The Outsiders (published 1967), which was written by her when she was still in junior high school, and it is indeed a fine book of its type.

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Literally Stories – Week 53 – ‘The Penultimate Week’

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The Penultimate Truth is a novel by one of my favourite authors, Philip Kindred Dick (b. 1928 — d.1982).

Pee-Kay-Dee — as fellow D***heads call him — story, is set in a Post WW111 earth ravaged by nuclear weapons and based upon one of his countless short stories, namely, The Defenders (1953).

The novel was published in 1964 in what many regard as Dick’s Golden Era, which included The Man in the High Castle (1962) that won the Hugo Award for best novel in 1963.

Whilst The Penultimate Truth won’t feature too highly in devotees top ten lists, as it lacks the many-layered aspects of his best work, it is still a good book.

The World Jones Made (1956), Time Out of Joint (1959), Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep and Ubik (both 1969), Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said (1974) and A Scanner Darkly (1977) illustrate that throughout his life PKD continued to grow as a writer of original, philosophical fiction, albeit his latter years being increasingly devoted to an exploration of theological matters — most famously with Valis (1981).

Week 54 will herald the last round-up of stories published on LS in 2015.

We return 4 January 2016.

In honour of Phil I have dubbed Week 53 ‘The Penultimate Week.’

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All Stories, Humour

A Lost Cause by Adam Kluger

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“Alfred,

Thanks for letting us see your work…
I’m afraid we are unable to offer you publication in Pushing Down the Daisies magazine.”

” Hi Rudolf…Thanks for the kind and quick reply. Submitting two pieces of fiction (The Pencil-Pusher & The Rain Washed His Underwear Clean) and some artwork that perhaps, might be a better fit for Pushing Down the Daisies. Best regards, Alfred…”

“…sorry we dont publish fiction at all…”

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All Stories, General Fiction

Evan Stalworth’s Wealth of Words by Tom Sheehan

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I’ll have to tell the story because I’m the one most at fault here. I should have known better, I’m the new generation type. Even on the way home from the cemetery, going back to the house with my mother, my two younger brothers and my sister, it was me who should have known better. Lots of things should have tipped me off; instead of being bigger, having more room with a body gone from it, the house appeared smaller, at least to me. It felt smaller, smelled smaller, corners were tighter, the air cooler. I swore, after spending my first twenty-two years in it, it didn’t have its hand out for me, “Not a touch in the tally,” as my father used to say about things found useless, unproductive, too much emptiness to expend much-courted energy on.

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All Stories, Humour

Good Night, Good Luck and Good Love by Nik Eveleigh

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OK everyone, attention please. Find the table that matches your number, sit yourselves down and get chatting! When I ring the bell, ladies remain where you are, gentlemen move to the table to your left. Good luck and good love!

“Did she really just say good love? Sorry, I mean hello my name’s Darren and did she really just say good love?”

“Your badge gave you away and yes she did. Sorry, I mean hello my name’s Lucy which you probably already know now that I’ve given away my secret powers of name tag identification, your badge gave you away and yes she…you’re actually wearing a wedding ring. Of all the…”

“Hold on, I can explain.”

“This should be good.”

“I’m married.”

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All Stories, General Fiction, Science Fiction

Michael by Tobias Haglund

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It’s raining again. I haven’t been out for weeks, but it seems every time it’s my turn in Cell 421, it’s raining. Chuck wanted to trade. He said he’d give me his lunch for three days if he could stay in Cell 421, the only one with a window. Although I do want to eat more, I simply couldn’t take away his food. Not for this. Not for staring out of a window. It’s always the same thing; rain. It’s rain and with these long, almost endless lines of people.

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