Story for Lucy #10: Snowflake

There was once a woman who wanted a child more than anything in the world. Every winter she would watch the children of her village build snow animals; giant creatures of fanciful construction; lions and unicorns fighting for the heart of an icy princess; Glacial mammoths, risen from the depths of the ancient ice, ploughing…

Story for Lucy #7: Thanks Giving

(Ed: It’s taken nearly a week but I have finally managed to retrieve this off my phone. It was actually written last Thursday! Stoopid technology.) As the family sat down at the table, they were all acutely aware that this was not going to be the usual thanks giving. Mom had soldiered on with her…

Christmas Story for Lucy #9: In memory of Bernard Matthews…

Colin the Turkey was dreading Christmas. Every year lesser turkeys than he were placed in a cart and driven out of the farm gate, never to be seen again. This had meant that Colin was now, by far, the biggest turkey ever to wander the cobbles of Needlestone Farm. So big in fact that the…

Story for Lucy #6: Meditation

Lay back. Make yourself comfortable. From now on you will hear only my voice. My voice will guide you on a journey to a place of meditative calm where you will find a core light of peace and relaxation. You will find clarity and a renewed sense of self. So if you have this time…

Story for Lucy #4: Pickles (though this has little to do with the story)

I want pickles, the heavily pregnant woman screamed. This was probably bad timing. The tunnel was sealed and bombs were dropping overhead and pickles were in somewhat short supply in the Underground at this moment. Most people were just pleased to be safe, away from the burning streets and crumbling buildings. Others, they all knew…

Story #3 for Lucy: Untitled

I sat and looked at the clock tick slowly towards the inevitable destination of 5.30. I was sure that someone had messed with the mechanism. Slowed it down somehow. Maybe it was melting like the Dali clocks or going backwards. That would be annoying. For it to have been 5.30 a good twenty minutes past….

This is Water. This is Water.

For Drew. Thank you. ‘Plain old untrendy troubles and emotions’ David Foster Wallace, who died last week, was the most brilliant American writer of his generation. In a speech, published here for the first time, he reflects on the difficulties of daily life and ‘making it to 30, or maybe 50, without wanting to shoot…

Weird morning equals weird day…

Well, I’m feeling listless, trafficking ads for cool looking games/films and listening to Slade chirrup out “I wish it could be Christmas”. Unfortunately not in person but Spotify is a good surrogate until they reform. The reason I’m feeling the stark contrast of this weird clash of activity is that this morning I think I…

Story for Lucy #2: Bob the Blob

The blob, called Bob, sat and watch the Giraffes ride by on penny-farthings. It lamented the fact that it had neither a penny-farthings or a legs with which to ride one; a sad state of affairs indeed. And if he did it would make not a jot of difference for he was a blob and…

Story for Lucy #1: The Cure

Emma sat in the doctor’s waiting room, hands firmly in the pockets of her incredible Hulk hoodie. She sighed. Her mom stiffened sitting next to her. Emma could feel the aged parent bristle underneath her pastel sweater and steel set hair. At 29 Emma felt she shouldn’t need her mum to take her to the…