Guest author: Keith Long
Presenting the fiction of: Making It Up As I Go Alone (Richard Davis)
This article is part of Literary Salon, issue #1. Click on the link to check out the rest of the issue, which will continue as a work-in-progress until May, 21st 2025.
Making It Up as I Go Alone
by Keith Long
Alright folks. This. is Richard Davis. It is an actual crime that more people have not read his stories. His publication ‘Making It Up As I Go Alone’ is a hidden gem I have been following and recommending for a while but I recently went to his stuff and scrolled around. Folks lemme tell you, it’s all good. Rather than listen to me, let him prove it. Here are some excerpts from my favorites, lines or moments that have stuck with me for months after. Final note, I went looking for Right Hand Blues a while ago and couldn’t figure out who had written it — All I remembered was the story, not the title or author. Well, I’ve been reunited at last:
“The anaesthetist was a successful, flamboyant man in his late forties. His bottle blond hair complimented his fake tan and was shaped into a rockabilly quiff. His forehead was Botox frozen, and his contact lenses were purple. He wore a large white stone set on a gold pinkie ring and an odour of cinnamon wafted from the folds of his pale blue boilersuit. Business was good.”
Right Hand Blues
“The lad sensed the approach and looked up at Batman’s masked face. He looked into the misty eyes, like those of a dead fish on a stainless-steel tray and felt sick. He jumped up and exited the tram three stops before his destination. He regarded himself as a tough nut who could look after himself, but Batman’s eyes had freaked the shit out of him.”
Batman Rides a Tram
These are the “King” stories, which have too many amazing bits to quote and I love them (I think there’s another one my phone wouldn’t let me scroll back too, so go find that too)
“The man fights death. Never seen a fight like it. The powerful sense of self, sense of being. He knows it will have to end but only on his terms. Morphine dreams, eyes roll, lips grin, voice whispers and grunts through a wondrous fog bank of memories and recollections and fictions and elaborations.”
Club 311
“The screen shows two bareknuckle fighters punching one another. Sat in the comfortable armchair next to the radiator, he watches them fight for hours. Eventually, his eyelids flicker as the heating smothers his brain. His chin touches his chest.”
Dead Hotel Space
“The sun was starting to dip when Sonny saw the old man’s familiar face grinning at him in a sly way. It was an aged, life-drained face with ruddy eyes, the grey skin gutted with deep creases around a hanging jaw. The shaved skull housed a brandy-soaked brain that misfired every nanosecond without fail. Possessing a pickled brain meant the old man was in a permanent state of semi-inebriation. It also meant he was pig shit ignorant.”
One Silver Jesus
Get readin’.
—Keith Long
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ill have a look. i trust your judgement Mr Long
Oh yes. Just beautiful excerpts!