AHEM

The damage was done. The horse had bolted. The milk had spilt.  The broth was spoilt.  Without looking, I had leapt. The doctor had been unkept away.  A stitch in time had been unmade.  My eggs had been unibasketed, my fire overironed.  Closing the stable door, I wept and went to seek out greener grass where multibirded bushes and monobirded hands were considered to be of equal value.

COAT

I pulled my coat tighter around me;  tighter and tighter until I became one with the fleece lining, one with the waterproof exterior never tested in more than a quick shower, one with the myriad zips and sizeable pockets large enough for a new-born lamb or a single wellington boot, one with a hood that covers all the land bringing perpetual dark, but is nevertheless detachable, reversible or both.  Inside the long sleeves, I clenched my fists and cursed the chance events that had brought me there: an overheard remark, a wrong turning, a shopping list with too many items, a double kiss on the blue ball, a defective unit at Warren Street.  The future came hurtling towards me, and I ran to embrace it like a long-lost love.

FAIRY TALE

Warning: This story contains flashing images.

Once upon a time they all lived happily ever after without precluding the possibility of a sequel.

Written on location in Burundi and Letchworth.

No animals, key grips, best boys or gaffers were harmed in the writing of this story.

Any resemblance to real people, places or events or realistic plots is purely accidental.

A CHICKEN

A chicken was walking across the road. What if, finding its motives questioned and lacking the vocabulary to explain the true purpose of the expedition, the chicken turned around at the white line in the middle to come back, only to spark another round of mindless speculation?  Would the chicken eventually be overcome by the rigours of age and expire, without ever again gaining the verge on either side, while philosophers continued to shake their fists at each other, oblivious to the chicken's death?