Liars' League

A Call to Arms by Niall Boyce

Read by Annalie Wilson

An address given by Miss Mary Hamilton in the upper room of the Wheatsheaf Public House, Rathbone Place, London, on the 12^th of July 1904.

Ladies and Gentlemen.

You have come here tonight expecting miracles. Perhaps some of you are familiar with my act. You have seen me read minds. You have witnessed me channelling the spirits of the dead. They have spelled out messages, moved furniture, perhaps even materialised before you.

So I will begin with a confession. I am a fraud, and everything you have witnessed was nothing but a conjuring act.

One Year On by Joanne L. M. Williams

Read by Suzanne Goldberg

Cinderella stretched sleepily and disentangled her limbs from the lacy, white bedclothes of the four-poster. She lay dreamily in the bright noon sunlight and began to think about rising. Life after marriage was decidedly agreeable. Slowly sitting up she considered if there was anything to do that day; other than improve the quality of life and ensure the well being of her people, of course. She found she had taken naturally to the ruling of a princedom. It just took a little effort and, without her, the Prince had been, well, rather lax.

Red by Tessa North

Read by Clareine Cronin

Jennifer’s hair in the mirror was a little redder and shorter than she’d asked for. When Debbi, the stylist, spun her around in the chair so she could see the cut from all angles, Jennifer stared at herself for much longer than she normally felt comfortable doing in public, tilting her chin, watching how the new bangs suited her cheekbones. When she stood up from the chair, she felt lighter. As she paid the bill, tipping more than she usually did, the receptionist said,

‘You like it, huh?’

Jennifer, answering her own reflection in the small desk mirror, said, ‘Yes.’

The King’s Pleasure by Gaie Sebold

Read by Marc Forde

The High King of the Lotus Empire summoned his chief advisor.  “I am bored,” he said.

“I am sorry to hear that, your Majesty,” said the chief advisor.  “Let me summon the cooks.”

“I have eaten the dawn-fruits that appear once in ten years in the shadowed valleys of the tallest mountains.  I have tasted the dried tongues of singing fish, and steaks cut from a living unicorn and seasoned with its tears; I have eaten the breasts of virgins sautéed in wizard’s blood.  What else is there for me to try?”

Around Here by Helen Silverstein

Read by Steve Wedd

His toenails.  How would they get through the interview after seeing those?  My God, the nails curled out over the edges of his cheap plastic flip-flops; long, yellowed.  He stalked around the trailer, Mr. Host, offering them a stiff drink.  He smelled like he’d already had one.  Did he think this was a social call?  Mr. Pendergast knew this interview was about whether or not he would get his kids back.  “No thank you, Mr. Pendergast,” Ellen said, injecting some formality into this visit.  She exchanged a glance with her co-worker, Tracy, who had seen the toenails and looked as if she could use a stiff drink.

Rebels & Tyrants stories chosen for July 14th, and deadline extended!

Roll up! Roll up! For our next event is on Tuesday July 14th (that's next Tuesday, Bastille Day) - so stick it in your diaries now. Normal service has been resumed and the night will start at 7pm in The Wheatsheaf as is traditional, and will cost just £3.

 

This month, we have picked five fabulous tales of oppression and revolt for our Rebels & Tyrants theme, boasting ghosts, hairdressers, slipstream fairytales, trailer-trash social workers and full-body pleasure suits ... how can you miss it?

 

The stories are:

Around Here by Helen Silverstein

King's Pleasure by Gaie Sebold

One Year On by Joanne L. M. Williams

Red by Tessa North

A Call to Arms by Niall Boyce

 

NB - For all those who attended the last event (Surf, Turf & Vodka) at Proud, our offer still stands - so just email us if you're thinking of coming along to this one.

 

And finally, as if that's not enough, we have extended the deadline for our August reading (theme: Black & White) to this Sunday 12th July - this is not in tribute to the late Michael Jackson, but please feel free to take him (or indeed anything or anyone else black and/or white) as inspiration for your stories. Keep 'em coming!

One Luxury by Richard Meredith

Read by Silas Hawkins

Message One, 17 August

So here I am, all alone on the island at last – not that I’ve been waiting for it, in fact I’ve been rather dreading it. But I’ve lived here my whole life (as did my pater and his pater before him) and I’ll bally well not fly the coop now. And that’s what I told the Governors, too.

There was a lot of fuss about possibly evicting me, and whether it would infringe my human rights or constitute a health-and-safety issue, but then it rather got lost in the upheaval of getting the rest of the population off the island to what is currently considered safety. Although with the sea levels rising the way they are, I give ‘em about five years

Rain Music by Margot Taylor

Read by Michael Redston

Ed has been rationing his water, using it only for drinking, counting his sips.  He does his dishes in sea water and his hands, with their many cuts, are sore from the salt and constant wetting.  He hasn’t washed in weeks.  Sweat has dried on sweat.  Sometimes he catches the smell of himself and reels.

What does water feel like to the tadpoles? by Tom McKay

Like greasy algae they say, like the shock of the new – and we say, no, and, that can’t be true. Like a thousand fine tentacles caressing your most sensitive parts they say, and we blush because we find it awkward that the tadpoles should say such things – and we stare up into the sky until the sun burns our eyes. It’s like having space and no space at the same time they say, and wiggle their little tails at us knowingly, like we should know what they mean – but we don’t – we don’t know what they mean and we think it is beginning to show on our faces.

Smirnoff Vodka - One Litre by Clare Sandling

Read by Lisa Rose

At the moment her mobile started ringing, Penny noticed two things. Lentil supplies were low, and Paul was late. She tutted. She was engaged in the internet home delivery stock check, making sure that each half-used item had a new, full packet behind it. She had the laptop open on the kitchen table, fingers twitching over the keyboard. As the phone started vibrating against the table, her fingers stabbed. Ordered, one 500-gram pack of Organic Virtues green lentils.