Liars' League

Here Comes the Night by Emily Pedder

Here Comes the Night

Read by Maria Escudero

 

Dave parks the van outside. The pub's filling up already. He stands with Stephen, buys himself a pint, has a quick scan. Nothing leaps out, none of them pretty enough to warrant the charm. Plenty of time, though. The night is young. He sips his pint.

Business all right, Steve?

Not bad.

Half Empty by Dan Timms

Half Empty

Read by Jo Widdowson

 

As usual when he wasn't drinking, Ben was desperately thirsty.

All he wanted was a glass of water. The glass of water that he was looking at in fact, the one the receptionist had brought over and set down on the glass-topped coffee table in front of him.

But he knew that although he would have no difficulties picking it up, the moment he got it close to his face – the moment it passed out of his vision and into the area of dreadful uncertainty beneath his nose – his hand would start to tremble wildly. He would rush the final push to his mouth. He would rattle the glass into his teeth. Yes, he would swallow a small amount, but a far greater amount would spill over his lips and chin and, crucially, it would slowly blot across his lucky blue interview tie.

Why I Never Started Smoking, and Now I Can't Stop by Vish Chandiramani

Why I Never Started Smoking

Read by Max Berendt

 

I always wish I'd been a smoker. Well, not really – but you know what I mean. I've seen all the European movies, all the Hollywood films noir – hell, even Bladerunner made it look cool. There's just something about how people look when they do it well, this creamy white smoke rising from their mouths, like they've got fire actually inside them – like they're more than human. Demons, maybe, or dragons.

Sharon's Addiction by Graeme MacFarlane

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Read by Daniel Dresner

 

She was a singer, aye. Didnae stop her, no way. Twenty a day, sometimes more, y'know? Greedy for 'em. Would rather smoke than eat. Only things she liked more were the bevvy and the old sweet lovin', o' course, but as she said, you can combine those two wi' a fag most of the time, if ye're canny.

Salvador Dali's 115th Dream by Niall Boyce

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Read by Ben Crystal

 
Roll up!

You are all, I can see, people of taste. Of course, a great deal of money is necessary to purchase the item I am offering for sale: but you need taste, excellent taste, to truly appreciate it. Taste is all.

Antique Shopping by Lennart Lundh

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Read by Terence Anderson

 

There comes a late-November Sunday, even in the upper Midwest, when the world outside is just too beautiful for those of us who live here to stay cooped up inside. Golden sunlight dances through branches bare of all but the most tenacious leaves. Grass bends a bit in a southerly breeze. Birds and fowl halt their migration for a while.

 

Legerdemain by Richard Smyth

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Read by Greg Page

 

They’d talked about it, had discussions about it, late at night across the kitchen table, like other couples might talk about which one of their kids they could afford to send to college, or if maybe it was time for the wife to get a part-time job or for the husband to start putting in a bit more overtime –

‘It should be me. It’d be easier for me.’

Becalmed by Chris Fyles

Nov_2010_Becalmed

 

Read by Will Goodhand

 

Be all you can be. If you want something enough, you will get it. The world is your oyster. And in this case:

“Success can be all yours simply through positive thinking. Visualise your success and it will be yours. All yours. Get a good, clear picture...”

She Doesn't Know How Tough It's Been by Sebastian Aston

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Read by Tony Bell

 

It’s while you’re ordering a tall double decaf skinny latte that what you realise you really want is a beer. An ice-cold beer, with beads of condensation all over the glass that you can trace lines in with your finger. It’s too early, it’s just gone ten, but that’s what you’d really kill for right now.

Frank's Feet by Sophie Smith

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Read by Bob Stafford

 

I don't care for feet. Mucky business if you ask me: all germs and clinging dirt. Smelly shoes, now surely that's a turn-off? But not for some folk. You wouldn't believe the websites devoted to it all. Ladies, shown from the ankle down. Page and pages of just that. Well, you can hardly know if they're women's feet, can you? Could be some boy with size sixes just waxed his toes or something. People'd think that was a laugh you know: put a boy in red heels and have perverts wank over the photos. You can't trust anyone online, you know. Could be anyone wearing those shoes. Could be your Mum.

Emma Cadbury's Voracious Husband by Mark L. Pearson

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Read by Hannah Mercer

 

Emma Cadbury woke up to discover that her entire body had turned into a medium class blend of milk chocolate. If that wasn't troubling enough - she had always preferred her chocolate to be expensively Fair Trade rather than cheaply mass produced - it was a hot midsummer night and the stuff had already begun to melt and stick to the sheets.

Letter of Recommendation by Bruce Holland Rogers

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Read by Mia Holmes

He always felt a little nervous answering the phone in the Paris apartment. He read French well, but spoke it badly. His wife's French was beautiful, but she was out buying groceries. He answered anyway.

"Bonjour."

Numbers Nine and Ten by Amy Nichols

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Read by Sabina Cameron

 

The list was tucked into the pocket of his jeans. That small pocket, the triangular one located just above the regular pocket on the right. The one just large enough to carry a little change. A condom. A note.

A list.

My "Vagina" by Terry Newman

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Read by Jennie Lathan

 

I have just seen the Vagina monologues. I went with my women's book group. We are doing 'Pride and Prejudice' – you must remember the lovely BBC television adaptation - the one with Colin Firth's Mr Darcy - the wet-linen-shirt-coming-out-of-the-lake one.

Please Don't Eat the Sausage! by Paul Takeuchi

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Read by Alex Woodhall

She was a real supermodel, long of limb, with perfect skin, Apollonian poise, a leonine gaze that made lingerie, diamond rings, lipstick, and private wealth management brochures fly off the shelves, and like all of her breed the imperfections were hard to find, so when you found them—and, boy, did you look—they slapped you in the face with all their ungoddesslike vulgarity: stinky feet, swamp gas flatulence, voluminous ear wax, a porcine snore—poetic justice, you might call it, for God getting everything else perfect. But a tapeworm inside my Clea—that I didn't expect!

Smoke & Mirrors, Tuesday Nov 9th

Come one, come all to the amazing November Liars' League, featuring stories of despair, deception and dreams by up-and-coming authors. We've got surrealists, would-be adulterers, stoners, seducers and even a magic mirror for you on Tuesday 9th November - plus free books in our notorious quiz, and cheap wine all night.

WINNING STORIES

"Salvador Dali's 115th Dream" by Niall Boyce, read by Ben Crystal

"Antique Shopping" by Lennart Lundh *NEW AUTHOR*, read by Terence Anderson

"Becalmed" by Chris Fyles, read by Will Goodhand

"Legerdemain" by Richard Smyth, read by Greg Page

"She Doesn't Know How Tough It's Been" by Sebastian Aston *NEW AUTHOR*, read by Tony Bell.

 

And all this, as ever, for a mere fiver on the door (doors at 7pm, show starts at 7.30). See you there!

Downstairs at The Phoenix
37 Cavendish Square, W1G 0PP
Tube: Oxford Circus (5 min)

The Storm by Jake Springer

The Storm

 

Read by Mandy Lalley

 

Erica and Jan, alone together in a wooden cabin in the mountains, had not spoken to each other for two days when Erica decided to dance for rain. At the beginning of their three day bank holiday break, soon after she had asked to have anal sex, Erica had decided not to talk to Jan again.

Not Dogs, Not Angie, But Life by Jason Jackson

Not Dogs Not Angie But Life

 

Read by Alistair Cope

 

On Saturday, I take the dog to be killed.

'Good dog,' I say, as it pulls at the lead. It is a bear, a wolf, a fucking hound of hell, a huge, straining mass of muscle and fur and saliva and teeth and sharp, sharp claws, and it will die, because it is stupid, and because no one, least of all me, wants it.

Holiday on Ice by Anna Clair

Holiday on Ice

 

Read by Gwynfor Jones

 

In his dreams, Colin is a bird. He has always been a bird, in his dreams. When he was younger he was an eagle, an osprey, a pigeon, a peacock, among others. When he lived in Brighton, by night he was a seagull, shrieking against the salt wind. But lately, he keeps dreaming he is a penguin.

The Unmaking of a Made Man by Mary R. Butler

 

Read by Alex Woodhall

 

Cripes, it's cold in Minneapolis, but I can't go back to Florida.  I heard them folks in Seligman's clan like it warm, so I'll stay up here.  I blame Hank for all this.