Tales From The Town #39: The Moons Of Earth

“Look at the silly old moon,” said Ethel, as she stared out through the window that had recently appeared in the ceiling of their room. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It’s so boring, more like,” said Claire. “It barely even moves. It’s the worst moon ever.”

“It’s not!”

“It is,” said Claire. “The best moon is the moon that’s always on fire.”

“That’s the sun, Claire,” said Ethel.

“Not it’s not.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t. If it was the sun you wouldn’t be able to see it at night but you can.”

“You can’t.”

“You can’t,” said Claire. “I can.”

“The actual best moon,” Daniel said. “Is the moon made of metal.”

“That’s not a real moon,” said Claire. “It’s made up.”

“You’re made up,” said Ethel.

“I’m not!”

“Nor’s the moon made of metal,” said Daniel. “It’s just you have to be in Australia to see it. They have different stars and everything!”

“You’ve never been to Australia, Daniel,” said Claire. “Or New Zealand.”

“Anna’s been to Australia,” said Ethel. “And New Zealand.”

“Well, good for her,” said Claire. “I still don’t think Daniel’s favourite moon should be a moon he’s never seen.”

“Your favourite moon is a moon we’ve never seen,” said Ethel.

“My favourite moon is the ghost moon,” said Tina. Everyone thought she was asleep but she wasn’t at all. “I’ve seen that. Twice.”

“I’ve seen it, too,” said Ethel.

“We’ve all seen it,” said Claire. “And anyway there’s no such thing as a ghost moon. It’s the apparition moon.”

“That’s just another word for ghost,” said Ethel.

“It’s not. It’s totally different,” Claire said. “And why would there be two words for one thing, anyway? It’d be completely confusing!”

“And bemusing,” said Tina, quietly.

“Most perplexing,” said Ethel.

“Confoundingly mystifying,” added Daniel. “Discombobulatingly flummoxational.”

“Everyone shut up,” said Claire. “Those aren’t even words.”

She flopped back down on the bed and banged her fists against the mattress.

“And we’re supposed to be watching the silly old moon, remember?” Claire shouted up at the sky. “Not talking.”

The four of them lay quietly on the bed and stared up at that mysterious new window of theirs. The moon shone through the glass like a beacon, huge and full and as bright as snow. It seemed to fill the entirety of the sky. If you looked into it long enough you could see almost anything you wanted.

“I told you the silly old moon was boring,” Claire sighed. “It’s even more boring than no moon at all.”

But by then everyone else was asleep, and when the moon that was always on fire finally made its appearance, Claire had to watch it all on her own.

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Notes:

1. Written between May 24th and May 30th, 2021

Tales From The Town #38: The Frozen Sea

Above The Frozen Sea

The sea was frozen from the shore to somewhere beyond the horizon, as far out as anyone dared to tread. The whole town came out to see. It was like a dream. In years to come no one would be believed when they spoke of it.

Some walked timidly on the ice, some ran, slid, spun, others still skated up and down, around and around, pirouettes and arabesques, smiles to the crowd, kisses, applause.

Behind a wave of ice, out beyond the headland, in a world entirely of their own, Oya and Anna slid into each others arms. Nothing could keep them apart.

The Frozen Sea Itself

Not flat like a frozen lake, but undulating, like the gently rolling curves of some furrowed hillside. The ice groans and creaks, moans and sighs. But it does not move.

The philosophers amongst us wonder, Is a wave still a wave when it’s been frozen in place?

Below The Frozen Sea

For a mermaid there is no loneliness like days spent swimming beneath frozen seas. The footsteps above sound like explosions from some distant war, the scrape of skates against ice like tortured screams.

The sea itself seems smaller, darker, the sky now a roof, the sun as dull as the moon, her home reduced from its limitless splendour to this dismal claustrophobic cave.

The mermaid sings and sings, weeps and wails, but no one can hear. On days like today, not even the gulls return her calls.

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Notes:

1. Written between May 14th and May 25th, 2021

And They Were Not My Words

And They Were Not My Words is a small collection/zine of cut up fiction experiments, in which I’ve tried creating new works from old pieces by Jorge Luis Borges, William Burroughs, the Brothers Grimm, Daniil Kharms, and Haruki Murakami.

Download (contains both PDF and EPUB versions): And they were not my words (.zip)

The collection also contains fully annotated versions, so you can check on my work if you want to see if, when and where I cheated.

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Notes:

1. The Borges cut-up pieces were made in December 2021
2. The Burroughs cut up pieces were created in August and September 2019
3. The Brothers Grimm pieces were made in February and March 2020
4. The Daniil Kharms pieces were made in December 2020
5. The Haruki Murakami pieces were made in December 2021
6. And the copyrights were not my own, etc etc