Posts Tagged ‘fiction’

Pegman – What’s in a Name?

October 9, 2017 47 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: ,

Zoom Skid Crash Bang

July 28, 2013 19 comments

Daily Prompt: A to Z – Create a short story, piece of memoir, or epic poem that is 26 sentences long, in which the first sentence begins with “A” and each sentence thereafter begins with the next letter of the alphabet.

All I remembered from the accident was a screeching of tyres, a spinning sensation and a loud bang. Brakes were applied of course – but far too late.

Cars are my life. Driven recklessly they can obviously be dangerous, but I do that for a living. Expert on the track, I drive rally cars. Formula 1 it’s not, but it’s still a thrill, a real spectator sport and I’m good. Good enough to find myself on the podium more often than not.

Here’s the thing though. I’m not so good that I never make mistakes, and today’s mistake was a big one. Just because I’ve finally caught the race leader doesn’t mean I should try to overtake on a tight corner at such a reckless speed.

Knocking on Death’s door has always pretty much been my thing – I’m a danger junkie – but this was taking it way too far.

Living dangerously is one thing, living stupidly is quite another.

My driving skills are quite prodigious, but not enough to save me from an uncontrolled skid – that’s why they call it “uncontrolled”.

No way to stop – the car clipped the verge, glanced off a tree and flipped. Over and over it rolled, finally coming to rest on its roof, the front smashed inwards against my legs. Pain lanced through me – though I don’t remember much about the crash, I remember that much. Quiet fell then, the only sound a hissing as steam leaked from the cracked radiator. Random thoughts flitted through my pain-racked mind – my home, my childhood, my first love until finally, I blacked out.

Suddenly the world intruded and I found myself lying in a bed surrounded by beeping machines – a hospital bed, then. Try as I might I couldn’t move my legs, but they hurt like hell – that had to be a good sign, right?

Unbelievably I had suffered no permanent damage. Very lucky, they all said – it could have been so much worse. Way worse. X-rays were taken and confirmed the diagnosis. Yes, both my legs were broken, but they’d heal and no other damage to report – I’d be back on the race track next season.

Zoom, skid, crash, bang.

The Time of Reconciliation

April 20, 2013 6 comments

Dr Franklin was walking through the town’s plaza with his official Guide, enjoying the warmth of Tranek Major’s twin suns when the bells rang.

“What’s that all about?” he asked.

“It is the Time of Reconciliation. For exactly one hour in every month, the Rule of Law is suspended for those who have filed an official Tak’reh, or grievance, against another. Some talk things through, though violence is not uncommon. Some deaths are inevitable.”

“By the Mercies, that’s madness!” exclaimed Franklin. Looking around he saw some people arguing. In the distance a couple were hitting each other.

The Guide shook his head sadly. “And still you continue to insult our ways. Did you not read the Rules of Entry upon your arrival at the spaceport?”

“I assumed it was the usual stuff,” replied Franklin. “No hats to be worn on the day of rest, don’t walk on the grass, that sort of thing, common to a dozen different worlds.”

“Indeed, one would not wish to walk on the grass. Incurring a Tak’reh  from the Department of Parks is inadvisable. One finds that they have long memories, short tempers and all manner of sharpened gardening implements.”

“Mercies above!” Franklin exclaimed.

“And when I took you into my home and you complained about the room I gave you, did I not once again exhort you to read the Rules of Entry?”

Franklin’s face went ashen.”You, uh, didn’t file one of these Tak’reh things against me for that, did you?”

“Of course not! You are a visitor to our world after all, and I am above such minor indiscretions.”

Franklin’s look of relief changed to wide-eyed shock as he looked down at the knife protruding from his chest.

“However,” continued the Guide, “you insulted my wife’s cooking. I’m afraid that won’t do, Dr. Franklin. No, that won’t do at all.”

Categories: Fiction Tags: , ,