Postcards from Kronk - the second collection of daily stories. (2025)

To begin with the messages were instructional, go here, go there, place parcel on table, speak to guard, things like that and Robert waltzed his way through these early days. Then they became a little more elliptical, find where the sparrows go, measure the head of a gnat and although Robert carried on as best he could , a knot of doubt began to grow in the pit of his stomach, declining enthusiasm. When the messages became real and not just voices in his head Robert realised it was time to retrace his steps, to unplug the beast and re boot himself. In this way he brought about his own excommunication and now he lives in the woods and avoids electricity. We could all be Robert one day.

I kick through the rubbish as we work our way through the streets, empty tins of nectarines, a single marigold glove in pink, greying lumps that once were paper, broken bits of plastic crushed by boot or wheel. The sweat forms on my back but I prefer to remain covered, a noise brings me out of my thoughts. " Over here, "  Jie, indicating a pile of rocks that used to be a home. " What you got ? " Breath quickening, hard to run with all the kit. Time is short, Jie called out too loudly, we won't be on our own for much longer. " Just help " And I hear a sound, breathing perhaps, blood pumping, but I'm now not sure if it's external or internal now so I join him, pulling at the rocks, cutting our hands, splitting our nails. As we dig I hear a voice, quietly, calmly, telling me to hurry. Jie hears it too and begins clambering into the rocks like they're breakers on the Cornish coast, parting them with his knees, hurling them over his head, ...

A skinny woman dressed in more male clothes than female coughs, introduces her video, the last one of the evening to be shown. The lights dim and a figure fills the screen, an angry man with a thin moustache. He kicks a door in, close up of his eyes, squinting, a blank rage milking them. The camera pans down to his thigh, partly hidden by splinters of wood. Zoom in closer to the wood, tiny bugs creep out confused and dazed, closer still microscopic parasites on these bugs chewing flesh, slowly but determined. Over the top a Mancunian voice explaining how every day a scene such as this, or similar or different but equally terrifying is happening to someone, most likely innocent children. The presentation fades to black and the crowd begin to cheer. The woman stands there, stoically, waiting until the noise quietens before stepping forwards. " Bow down your heads and be thankful. "

Alan painted the outlines of twelve chairs on the road during the cover of darkness. Dave kept watch. Convening the inaugural meeting of the Dangerous Sports Soc on the intersection between Beverly Road and Cottingham Road seemed a mighty fine idea but one they both knew needed to be acted upon immediately before sobriety dulled their passion. Once complete they walked back home, the sun beginning to rise, outlining the finer points of the plan. 

He has a beard, possibly greying, likely unkempt which he's playing with as he asks if I can come to the meeting later. " Erm, sorry, what meeting ?" I stare at my phone for an explanation. " The RCP, Revolutionary Communist Party ? you gave your phone number to one of our members last week." His voice impossibly deep and old now as I remember the girl and her lop sided smile. She'd asked me if I'd like to come to a meeting, we'd been in the Student Union and I was dressed as Adam Ant. She'd said she'd liked my white stripe. " We meet at the Sal at 8 0'clock, if you're serious about politics "  I thank him for his call and hang up before my mum comes back from Asda. I really hope he doesn't call back.

The curtain comes down and a flurry of tiny banknotes are thrown over Jonah Jones, the Economic Magician his fifteen minutes of fame well and truly over. We might as well have paid to watch a chimp fall off a bicycle. One Banana Two Banana Three Banana Four. " I'm sorry " Jonah says as he walks off stage, to no one in particular, least of all to the grumpy chimp fixing a puncture.

Clayton Laws stopped punching as the siren filled the air, waking up the neighbourhood. Frank spat blood onto the gravel before getting to his feet. The pair of them stood there and waited for the police to arrive, each breathing heavy. Curtains twitched around the close as the police car squealed to a halt, Clayton turned and waved once to his daughter before stepping towards the car, arms raised high. From the landing Honey, purposely ignoring her boyfriend, opened the window and called out. . "See you later Dad ! "