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Tag Archives: short story
Wading Into The Foyle
“Time, gentlemen.” The bargirl began placing the empty chairs atop their tables one by one. Even with all the lights on in the pub it was very dark, but the younger man had no difficulty seeing his friend’s … Continue reading
On The Curious Manners and Customs of the Natives
ONCE, in a particular village in a far-off corner of the country, the people there took from their temple an idol, of considerable age and imbued with a certain dignity from many years of honest worship, and made … Continue reading
Kid Stuff
“Alls I’m sayin’ is, it don’t make no sense for them to be priests,” Joe said as he made a left turn. “I’m not a male chauvinist pig or whatever. It’s just not they way things are done, ya … Continue reading
The Border
The last true and final peace had been struck. Instead of the raucous celebration we all expected (not to mention the undying adulation of the people sure to follow), we found ourselves greeted with silence and sullen stares. Our services … Continue reading
On the Night Shift
There is a priest in the off-license, buying two bottles of whiskey. His face is pasty and pocked with blotches. His hands tremble as he struggles valiantly to count out his notes and coins. On his third attempt, … Continue reading
The Footsoldier
“Only the dead have seen the end of war.” —Plato Dust was Lapointe’s world now. Dust was in his boots, inside every crevice of his uniform. It was in his hair, on his tongue. It was in his … Continue reading
Because I Say So Stories; How Óglach Met His Wife
Glasgow 1994 Nowadays when you see Óglach on the precious few occasions he’s allowed out on his own, he’s an oddly acting fellow indeed. Always walking with his head down and muttering, occasionally stumbling over his own two feet as … Continue reading
The Night I Beat Up Conor
To look at him today, to hear him run his mouth and then make good on every boast, you would think Conor was born that way—a nearly unbeatable braggart. But it’s me here to tell you he wasn’t, for … Continue reading
Thoughts from the bridge
He stared into the water, waiting for the swans. Nowhere in sight. And so he waited a while longer. While he waited, he watched the passers-by. He knew none of them; they didn’t know his story, nor did he know … Continue reading
Afraid
Tommy’s eyes opened. He knew it was the middle of the night, or early morning, but he was afraid to look at the clock, for fear of seeing the hour. At least I didn’t remember my dreams, he thought. I’m … Continue reading
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