27 November 07 - 13:07Stripling Welham
When Stripling Welham left England to attend the convention of European lavatory men in Combourg, France, he did not know what to expect. Most of his days, he had been in charge of all the men and women who toted night soil for disposal from the Stynke Tanks of the endemic terraced twouptwodowns of rural England; now, with the coming of water closets, he wanted to be the pioneer in such esoteric toilet lore and bring new sanitary hope to the working class; where better than go toVictorian France for the convention … or so he thought.
The ferry docked at St Malo. Stripling Welham was intrigued to see the convoy of pump-out lorries that turned up at the dockside to empty the lower decks of the passengers’ discarded slurry; he had heard they were rollonrolloff ferries, so this was particularly intriguing (and instructive), not all what he had been led to expect.
He was met by the Lavatory Men Convention Luxury Coach which would take the English contingent to Combourg. ...
(more)
11 November 07 - 16:07Underdarkneath
Published 'New Adventures Of Starfishman' 1998
I have dreams whilst dreams have me.
About this time every morning, I wake up with an ending, an indefinable air of having been through something utterly dreadful but equally beautiful. The room is stifling, the wife beside me snoring heavily into her chest as a soldier would in a trench. There is enough light, coming from the gap at the bottom of the bedroom door like bacon rind, to see that the wallpaper is slowly peeling back to reveal the plaster running with glistening sweat.
I sit up and I sit up again...
And that is when I wake up as if from several dreams, folded within each other, their soggy seaweed leaves inextricable.
It's always the same ... the wife mops my brow and takes a ton of it to the water butt outside. She returns with an iced drink which I guggle down voraciously. ...
(more)
02 November 07 - 09:59Reed
First published in 'In Darkness Eternal' 1996
Reed decided to go to a different pub, the one that meant him using the footpaths across fields and between the darkening trees. It was close on sunset and bright orange clouds littered the skyline. He wondered what it would be like returning by the same route with just the moon - hopefully - and with the creatures of darkness having come out to play.
He laughed to himself, as he tried to imitate a concert bugle.
He hoped none of the creatures would come out early, before he reached the pub. Perhaps, it wouldn't matter so much on the way back.
Shaking himself free of his own imagination, he passed a man and a boy with a large Alsatian dog. They ignored Reed, obviously rushing to reach home in time for high tea... or was it that they too feared night's possible produce? ...
(more)
