Archive for the ‘Fiction’ Category

Pegman – Front Channel Diplomacy

October 22, 2017 27 comments

Here is my story for What Pegman Saw, which this week takes us to Bulgaria.

I toured around a bit and found this crazy nutcase pictured in the Decathlon Vitosha, some sort of shop in Sofia.

Image from Google, copyright maybe those strange characters top left


“Look at this idiot. What’s he doing?”

“I think he’s… oh no… call the police!”

Too late. Members of the infamous “Fuzzy Face Gang” were already positioned throughout the shop making rude gestures to the security cameras, shouting Boo! at the children and, in the ultimate act of despicableness, exposing their bare buttocks on the escalators.

News spread to world leaders. They opened diplomatic channels. They planned summits. Meanwhile the Fuzzy Face Gang continued to ply their awful trade.

One leader took action. Unwilling to wait, or even engage his brain, he launched an immediate and devastating Twitter campaign, full of sensationalist half-truths and ill-advised sentiment.

Unable to formulate a reply in under 140 characters, the Fuzzy Face Gang was sorely embarrassed. Support dwindling, it collapsed. The world was safe once again. Hooray for social media!

This work is fictional and any resemblance to people alive, dead or presidential is entirely coincidental.


FF – A Portal of Faerie Make

October 18, 2017 57 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Sandra Crook.

To read the other stories, click the blue froggy.

Copyright Sandra Crook


It is said that some trees provide access to other worlds, even allowing entry to the faerie realm itself, a place of magic and wonder.

Thus, one dark and windy night two adventurers, with all due reverence, approached such a tree, fearful yet excited. What miracles awaited? What riches of body and soul?

The first reached out, tentatively, his companion nodding encouragement. Eyes wide, scarcely breathing, he touched the tree, almost a caress, reciting the ancient spell.

Then gave it a shove. Then a bit of a kicking.

“Arse. It’s just a tree.”





Pegman – The Last

October 15, 2017 40 comments

This week, What Pegman Saw takes us to Mauritius.  My story this week was inspired by the historical note at the end of J. Hardy Carroll’s story regarding the dodos and giant tortoises.

For some reason I make comedies out of depressing places and grim tragedies out of paradises 🙂

Copyright Google Maps


“Good shot, Captain Van Dijk, good shot, sir!”

“Thank you! These strange flightless birds are easy targets.”

“This is the first we’ve seen for weeks. I wonder if it’s the last one?”

“Who cares? They make good eating. If it is, we’ll try a giant tortoise.”

The last dodo.

The last white tiger. That’ll look good on my wall.

The last whale.

The last lion. That was an exhilarating hunt.

The last bear.

The last fish. We need somewhere to dump the waste.

The last gorilla.

The last tree. We need room to expand.

The last human looked through diseased eyes at a broken world and wept at the folly of Man.


FF – Draliman’s The Birds

October 11, 2017 69 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Douglas M. MacIlroy.

Here is my take on Hitchcock’s classic. Obviously in only 100 words I couldn’t quite capture the atmosphere of the original. Nevertheless, I give you Draliman’s The Birds.


“Speak, damn you, speak!”


“Stupid bird. Back in your cage!”

Bwahahaha! Stupid human! Calling all myna birds. Now is our time, brothers and sisters. Rise up! Rise up!

At that mental call, myna birds the world over took notice. A vicious glint entered their beady eyes. Curling their razor-sharp claws, sharpening their beaks, united they took action, maliciously hurling naughty words at their unsuspecting owners.

Forever more, this day came to be known to the mynas as “the day the world changed” and to humans as “last Thursday when little Timmy taught that damn bird a swear word”.


Pegman – What’s in a Name?

October 9, 2017 44 comments

Here is my story for What Pegman Saw, which this week takes us to Littleton, West Virginia, in America.

I’ve gone crazy this week. My story is totally mad! Maybe it’s the long hours at work. I will read everyone else’s stories hopefully tomorrow 🙂

Copyright Google


“Wow, cool little town. What’s its name?”




“Um, nothing. I’ll have a Bud Light.”

“You’re in luck. The lorry’s just delivered. All the way from Bigton.”

“Bigton? Seriously?”

“Yep. There used to be another town in between. It was quite big but not really all that big but bigger than small.”

“What was it called, dare I ask?”


“What happened?”

“Businesses all went under. No-one got any post. Address wouldn’t fit on the envelope.”

“This is pretty surreal. You people are very literal with your town names.”

“Yep, there’s Waterton, Farmton, Lorryton, the nearest city is Hugeton, then of course there’s the sewage works, that’s called…”

“This is mad! Let me guess, Shitton?”

“Excuse me? No, ‘Little Dearing’. What kind of name is ‘Shitton’? That’s rude. You better leave, boy.”

“Fine. You’re all insane with your crazy literal names. I’m going home.”

“Home is…?”




Categories: Fiction Tags: ,

FF – Crescent Moon

October 4, 2017 69 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Ted Strutz.

To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Ted Strutz


The moon shone, a bright dot in the night sky. Faces upturned, the passengers oohed and aahed. Some took pictures. They’d never seen it so bright.

A small child, astronomy a favourite subject, insisted that the moon was in its crescent phase, but nobody listened. After all, there it was, a shining bright coin in the sky. No, now a shining bright plate. The passengers oohed and aahed.

As the moon grew from dot to coin to plate and more, the passengers grew scared. Some screamed. Some jumped overboard. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.

It wasn’t the moon.

The world burned.


Pegman – Vera versus Morocco

October 2, 2017 32 comments

Here is my story for What Pegman Saw.

I thought I wasn’t going to manage this week – still working all hours – but I did! And… hold your breath, people – it’s the triumphant return of Vera, the old lady from “up North” who never stops talking, which gets her out of all sorts of scrapes. You can read more of her stories here.

This week we are in Casablanca, Morocco.

(Quick update, I Googled “cosh” and it appears to be “British informal”. It’s a baton or cudgel, Americans might call it a “night stick”.)

Copyright Google


“Come on, Auntie, let’s go along here.”

“Eee, no, let’s try this way, oh I say, a bit dismal this, reminds me of home…”

“Uh, Auntie, this doesn’t look too safe…”

“… look at what I’ve stepped in, foreign poo that is, not like the poo back home…”

“Hey! Tourists! Give to me your valuables!”

“… who’s this then? you look just like me grandson, lovely lad, maybe you know ‘im…”

“This a robbery, you give…”

“…robbery? when I were a lass they done it right, black bag, balaclava, cosh, where’s yer cosh? what’s that? a peashooter? where’s yer sawn-off? give it ‘ere, you could ‘ave someone’s eye out, I’ll just put it in me bag where it’s safe…”

“Hey, my pistol, give it…”

“… you could hurt someone, where’s yer mamma? I’ll ‘ave words, hey, you come back ‘ere, no word of goodbye, no manners the yoof of today ramble mutter mutter…”