Advertise on podcast: LitReading - Classic Short Stories

Wall Street, a spring morning at the turn of the century. The ticker is running hot, the telephone won’t quit, and Harvey Maxwell, broker, is handling it all like a man with springs where his heart should be. His clerk thinks the boss is slipping. His stenographer has something on her mind. Then a window opens, and somebody on the Exchange starts clubbing the stuffing out of Union Pacific. O. Henry at full gallop, in a nine-minute comedy from The Four Million, read by Don McDonald. This is a story from the archives recently remastered. Litreading is part of the Short Storyverses network of fiction podcasts. More stories, more feeds, at shortstoryverses.com. If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

There is a job nobody warns you about. After the dying comes the paperwork, the hold music, the strangers in call centers who need proof that she is gone. For two years she was her mother’s caregiver. Now she is her mother’s administrator. She makes lists. She keeps folders. She is very good at this. Then she reaches the bottom of the last statement. An original story, written and read by Don McDonald. Explore our multiverses of short fiction at shortstoryverses.com. If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Every house party has a guest who knows too much. A mild little man named Cornelius Appin has spent seventeen years on one problem. He believes he's solved it: he has taught a cat to speak. The company around Lady Blemley's tea table does not believe him — and that, as it happens, is the last comfortable moment anyone in the house will enjoy. Pour yourself some tea. Mind the saucer. Saki was the pen name of Hector Hugh Munro (1870–1916), the sharpest wit of the Edwardian age. Born in Burma and raised in Devon by a grandmother and two aunts he could not abide, he became a foreign correspondent before turning his pen on polite society. He borrowed his pen name from the cupbearer in the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. When war came in 1914, he enlisted as a private at forty-three and refused a commission; he was killed by a sniper in France on November 14, 1916. His last words were “Put that bloody cigarette out.” “Tobermory” first appeared in the Westminster Gazette in 1909 and was collected in The Chronicles of Clovis in 1911. Read by Don McDonald. LitReading is part of the Short Storyverses network. shortstoryverses.com This is a story from the archives recently remastered. We are so honored to have been featured by Apple Podcasts as a great source for summer stories. If you don't want to miss our future stories, please Follow or Subscribe. Also, we have over 100 stories in our back catalog. Enough stories to keep you entertained for weeks. Looking for even more stories? Check out all our narrative podcasts at shortstoryverses.com If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Winter, 1906. A clerk who speaks to no one from Saturday to Monday buys a mahogany graphophone for far less than it’s worth. The widow selling it keeps her eyes on the snow. Her husband, she says, liked to keep his own voice. He carries it home and records his diary each night, and the machine hands him back to himself, the nearest thing to company he has. Then the wax starts holding something he never put there. For more short stories, visit ShortStoryverses.com If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

A farmer lies dead in his bed with a rope around his neck. That morning his wife sat in the kitchen, pleating her apron, and said she slept through it. So the men come out to the farmhouse: the sheriff, the county attorney, and the neighbor who found her. They search the cold rooms for something that will hold up in court. Two of their wives ride along to gather a few things for the woman in the county jail. Nobody expects much from them. The kitchen is a mess of unfinished chores and small things left where they fell. Susan Glaspell once covered a murder case like this as a young reporter in Iowa, and it stayed with her. She wrote the story in 1917, and a century later it still hasn't loosened its grip. This is a story from the archives recently remastered. If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Nobody in New Orleans had ever made Bernard de Marigny look foolish in public. He was rich past counting, small as a foil, and very likely the most dangerous man in Louisiana with a pistol in his hand. Then a blacksmith from a far parish, seven feet of him and slow to speak, said something true on the floor of the legislature, and the whole chamber laughed. The card came to the forge two days later. The blacksmith was no duelist. He was, however, a man who had spent his life learning where something hard gives. From Short Storyverses. More at shortstoryverses.com. If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

A man in a country pub insists his story is true. It concerns his brother Wilfred, a chemist of some genius, a jolly outdoor girl with a wholesome sunburn, and a Yorkshire baronet who spells his name with four small f's. Somebody is being kept behind a locked door on the second floor. Somebody else is about to regret asking what's true to life. This is P.G. Wodehouse, 1926, at his most gleefully unreliable. First published in Liberty, August 7, 1926; collected in Meet Mr. Mulliner, 1927. Read by Don McDonald. HumorUs is part of the Short Storyverses network. shortstoryverses.com This is a story from the archives recently remastered. If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

An obituary arrives in the mail, folded in thirds, no note, no return address, and the creases are sharp enough to cut with. Roy Kittleson has not seen the man named in it since a Friday in 1986, and he has his reasons, and none of them are good. He drives up anyway. Three hours, most of it flat. He has rehearsed nothing. He is counting on grief to arrive on its own. “The Wrong Funeral,” is an original story written and read by Don McDonald from ShortStoryverses.com. If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Here is the first episode of a new Short Storyverses limited series podcast, Care Protocol. Nobody has died on a Portland street in four years. The city handed over the wheel eight years ago and got back quiet nights, clean air, and a fatality rate of zero. Ask anyone. The algorithms saved us. Then, at 7:12 on an ordinary Tuesday, a man waiting for his morning ride is killed against a brick wall at Fifth and Glisan—in front of three witnesses who all describe the same impossible thing. Before lunch, there is a second. The company’s lawyers called the police seven minutes after the first death. That was six minutes before anyone called them. Special Agent Maya Restrepo catches the case: deaths that could not have happened, and a maintenance log with a sentence sitting in it where a number should be. You’re hearing Episode One of Care Protocol as a special LitReading bonus. The story continues on its own separate podcast, and future episodes will not appear in the LitReading feed. Search for and follow Care Protocol wherever you get your podcasts. In Episode Two of Care Protocol: Something happens on a stretch of I-5 outside Wilsonville, caught from nine angles. By Friday morning, there isn’t a screen in the country that hasn’t run it. By Saturday, the country has decided what it means—and Maya Restrepo is the only person still asking the other question. Episode Two arrives Wednesday, September 16, exclusively in the Care Protocol podcast feed. Explore our multiverse of narrated short stories at ShortStoryVerses.com. If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The Garden was finished before anyone in it was born. The rain arrives on schedule, in the amount that has been decided. The manual has never been improved on. Nobody touches anybody. Children learn it early, with the short rod, because correcting is cheapest when they're small. Sela is twenty-two and has never had a low year. When the tremor takes the hands of the old man who grades pears beside her, she stands up and says, "I'll take that." Nothing forbids it. There is even a provision. Two hundred and nine times. Over twenty months. Somebody is keeping the number. “The Garden’s Wall” started with a question I couldn’t put down. What would a society look like if it decided, sincerely and on the evidence, that compassion was a defect to be bred out? Not a cruel place. A reasonable one, where the punishment is measured, the reasoning is sound, and nobody enjoys any part of it. The answer turned out to be a garden, and a wall nobody built, and a gate that opens outward, and forty-one people put through it in a single lifetime. Please check out my many universes of short stories at shortstoryverses.com and my long-running money podcast, Talking Real Money. If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

A December afternoon, a fire going down, and a marriage stalled halfway through a quarrel nobody bothered to finish. Egbert comes in for tea prepared to be reasonable, then conciliatory, then almost penitent. Lady Anne, rigid in the armchair by the tea table, declines to participate. Somewhere above them a bullfinch works through the only tune it knows, and on the rug a Persian cat named Don Tarquinio waits with the patience of an animal who has already decided something. Saki at his most precise: eleven minutes of drawing-room comedy built entirely out of one person not speaking, and a closing line that reorganizes everything you just heard. "The Reticence of Lady Anne" was collected in Reginald in Russia and Other Sketches (1910). Read by Don McDonald. Litreading is part of Short Storyverses. shortstoryverses.com If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Poker Flat is a mining camp that has recently decided to take its virtue seriously. When the town's new moral committee finishes its business, four of its most familiar faces find themselves traveling a mountain trail with strangers who know far too much about one another's pasts. Among them is a gambler whose quiet confidence suggests he has already calculated every card that has not yet been dealt. Bret Harte's classic American story unfolds where the Sierra Nevada meets the law of unexpected consequences. In the company of strangers, with old judgments left behind in the valley below, the outcasts of Poker Flat discover that the line between sinner and saint is rarely where the town's respectable citizens believe it to be. A timeless tale about the hands we are dealt, the hands we play, and the surprising hands we never see coming. If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This is not a story. After dozens of episodes, I thought I'd take one to explain myself. Who I am, why LitReading exists, how a story earns a place here, and why there are suddenly so many related shows sharing the same shelf. Also a few honest words about advertising, a tip jar I'd rather call Buy Me a Book, a request for a review, and a listener who found my narration unlistenable. Don's Money podcast is Talking Real Money If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Arnold Thorndike buys a Correggio before breakfast and can price his own time to the minute. Two hundred dollars of it. So when he stops his car at the Court of General Sessions to say a word for a young stenographer who got drunk, lost five hundred dollars of his employer's money, and is due up for sentence, he figures the errand will run him about a thousand. The court has other ideas. Richard Harding Davis, the most famous reporter of his generation, sets the Wisest Man in Wall Street down on a hard oak chair and leaves him there, unrecognized and unimportant, admitted only because he's "with Mr. Andrews," while the whole sorry parade of the city files past the bench. This is a comedy of manners with a soft heart. If you enjoy well-narrated short stories, check out our many story-telling podcasts at shortstoryverses.com If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

High summer, and it is too hot to sing. A huntsman walks a road with a gun on his shoulder, a bird in his bag, and a dog running ahead of him. A woman steps out of the rye with a sickle in her hand and says his name. She is delighted to see him. He is not. They sit down between two fir trees, and in the ten minutes that follow, Anton Chekhov does something very quiet and very cruel. He was twenty-five, writing fast and for money under a pen name, and he claimed later that he wrote this one in a bathhouse in a single sitting If you enjoyed this story, buy me an e-book! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/donmcdonald or click FOLLOW Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.