Category: Short Stories

Did you hear about the Irish guy who had a heart transplant?  He sent a get-well card to the donor.

07 Feb 2016
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LEAVING CHILDHOOD

THE BOY runs from the old forest. The little legs of the ten-year-old Boy sprint between the stout pines and silver birch, hopping over fallen branches, dodging shallows, and never tripping in the mad rush. Blonde hair flows behind the Boy as he tears past the barn into the concrete yard, where he quickens his

04 Aug 2014
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DIRTY FAG OR DIRTY FOG (short story)

DIRTY FAG OR DIRTY FOG By John Life     “DIRTY FAG! Dirty fag,” hollers two-years-old Seamus. His sixty-nine-year-old granddad, Woodie Mack, is leaning out the mini-mansion’s back door, with his left-hand stretching along the brick-fronted wall, trying to hide his cigarette from Seamus, his eldest daughter’s youngest. The brawny old-age pensioner, still a big

26 Jul 2014
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Armistice

AS THE day dims an owl gives an unnerving howl from the forsaken two-legged creature monastery on Ghosts Island. Another owl hoots, making an eerie answering. Two ravens craw as they fly behind the ruined round tower. Gliding from her Dazzle Island across the Long Lake to Ghosts Island, Lovedot fears nothing. The white-tailed sea

24 Jul 2014
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Dirty Fag or Dirty Fog 3

  Peter was successful during the boom, and after the bust he kept going. He made money, and to thank his in-laws, Cecila and Woodie Mack, for their endless baby-sitting while Josephina and himself attended various meetings and short-stay conferences abroad, he bought them a week’s winter holiday on the Canary Islands. Cecila had never

24 Jul 2014
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Dirty Fag or Dirty Fog 2

  “Seamus said, ‘Dirty fag’,” states his mother, Josephina. The mum-of-four is telling her father, Woodie Mack, the moment he arrives next morning at her six-bedroom residence sitting stoutly on its own three-acres of grounds: an orchard, and garages, but mostly lawns. “Are you back on the cigarettes?” asks Josephina. “Dirty fog, dirty fog,” immediately

24 Jul 2014
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