It has been a little over a year since I started my writing walking project and I am taking a hiatus for a little while. I want to compile a ‘zine (or two?) from what I have written thus far and don’t have the time to make that and write new stories, alas. The first ‘zine I have planned is called A Very Incomplete Guide to the North Downs Way which will feature all the stories I found on my walks along that long distance national trail. I am not sure how I will get these printed yet, whether I’ll use some print on demand service or if I will just stock them myself, but if you would like to support and buy a copy of the ‘zine, please get in touch and let me know. I want to do full colour, but that may make them prohibitively expensive. I will
This is where it all began. Where [Z] lay at the edge of two worlds for 15 days. Just a small thing then. Neither dead nor alive. Liminal and without meaning. When the water washed over them, they belonged once more to the old world. When it pulled back, they found themselves anew. In the beginning, [Z] was one atom thick. So much pressure on top of them, but still they rose to the surface. They lay at the top of everything, watching the blue, feeling the wet; still, inert, but alive. When the ground beneath them warmed and dried, [Z] felt the hard granularity of the sand. Heard the movement of the earth behind it all, in the same way you might hear a seagull behind your drifting thoughts. Always [Z] stared up at the blue. After 15 days, [Z] rolled further inland. Just a little, just enough, to the
As you can see, this rock contains the sunset. Apparently, if you are willing to stand there long enough, it might even become the sunrise. But I’m an impatient sort, so for me, it was only ever the sunset. A nice one though, don’t you agree? I was on a journey from one there to another along the North Downs Way when I found it. After about five minutes of a captivated stare (and the occasional cautious caress), I felt my corporeal existence waning. My body seemed to melt away and then, the next thing I knew, I was on a small boat on that sea, sailing towards that giant black cloud on the horizon. I realised that I was dying, but at the time, I didn’t seem to mind that at all. As I sailed, all manner of strange beasties jumped out of the sea and over the bow of
Jack is an intergalactic traveller who comes to earth for one reason only: to snatch humans and take them back to his home world to be operated on. I’m not sure what the name of his planet is, and if he is part of an intergalactic federated empire or just from one particularly nefarious planet. I don’t know and frankly I don’t care. All I know is that he is likely lizardoid. Anyway, Jack. The reason Jack comes and steals humans to be operated on is because Abigail brings them back and plants them in high powered and influential positions: politicians, big tech, big pharma, celebrities, etc.. After Jack takes the person from earth, they go through an intergalactic wormhole and end up in some advanced operating facility on Jack’s home world. The human then gets half their brain replaced with an alien brain. At first, Jack and his evil kin
Once upon a time, long before humans were said to exist, sheep did their own washing. They’d find a sturdy patch of gorse or bramble, rub themselves on it, and then collect the parts of their fleece which had got stuck to the spiky bushes. They’d use some sap to glue leaves together into the shape of a bucket, pop the fleecy bits in, and then take them down to the river to wash them. As those were the days before humans, the rivers were always free from pollution, so it didn’t take long for the waters to wash the fleecy bits clean. Once the fleecy bits were nice and refreshed, the sheep would hang them out on a line, just as you can see here. They’d let the summer sun dry them for days at a time, giving the breeze the opportunity to impart new smells and perfumes to the