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

All families tell lies about themselves, these lies are usually minor, often unintentional, or at worst, drafted to keep people happier than the truth. These lies frequently dwindle into unreliable memories and vague feelings, ill-formed thoughts that occasionally pop above ground briefly like dozy gophers before being malleted back into a comfortable lawn, or with no more difficulty, an unloved tarmacked backyard. Very rarely are these revelations dramatically revealed at banquets or gathered around a board room in a glass skyscraper, despite what writers and film makers continue to peddle. People gasping and shouting, some crying, others swearing, threatening and gesticulating. No, this isn’t how most of us carry on, not the way we address inaccurate familial facts, especially those of us who are born and bred in unfashionable areas of the Northeast of England but unfortunately for my Uncle Andrew, the third generation to run our, what has been called, artisan jam making compan...

  Frogs the size of hubcabs, locusts and more, biblical deluges always used to be well, more natural. That was until A.I. took over and now we face two ton terrors and this is just the beginning.

  Last night I hurt my wrist but hadn't realised how bad it was until I attempted to announce my arrival by doing a donut outside my ex’s house as I arrived to pick up my daughter for the weekend. Now, we are now driving back in silence. I have agreed it was a mistake trying to show her how it should have been done as we left the cul-de-sac, especially as I was unaware my ex and her new partner were still stood in their porch watching us leave. I have also agreed to a Nandos.

  “We can try again in the morning, and I guess if any do get out tonight, then yes, they’ll try to raise the alarm,” Kelly was tired, and regretted again, putting herself forward as leader, “but most will probably just want to get as far away as possible.” It had been twelve days since the last sighting and those still in the house had largely stopped questioning her decisions. “So?” She asked no one in particular. A few nodded, others simply got up and started to leave, Ann and Mike began to clear the chairs away but almost immediately needed to step to the side quickly as Graham burst through the door, his clothes a mass of tiny Styrofoam balls, stuck to him by static and nervous energy. “Sorry, but I think we’ve got a bigger problem now.”

  The announcement was exactly as he’d feared, the local council had been infiltrated by communists and wealth redistributors, as he’d been saying to all that would listen for months. Maurice Banks thought he was ready, the first of his family to open a small to medium sized business, holidayed abroad twice a year and liked to say he spoke his mind. The kind of man that, if convicted of a heinous crime, neighbours would refer to as a larger-than-life character who always said hello and gave generously to charity collections. Those at the chamber of commerce understood had was really happening, and those he messaged on a more exclusive WhatsApp group had made plans, most of which were legal and non-violent. But still, he falters, even facing the threat of effectively allowing just anyone to go anywhere Maurice was unsure how far he could go. Growing up, before he’d found his way he'd even dreamed of going to Art School, but that was long ago now. Yet, as he sits there, he find...

  Post truth, truth be told, has been more of a challenge than initially expected, the rationing of gravity took us all by surprise and has largely restricted movement beyond the reach of ropes and chains. As the only person in the village with a wind-up radio I have found myself at the very centre of our dwindling population, which is nice, but largely down to the inaccessible nature of my home. As the broadcasts are often contradictory and rarely followed up, I have been circumspect with what I share with the others, but it certainly appears that things are beginning to improve. In fact during the last couple of weeks there have been reports of energy returning to some areas, as close as Bradford and, if true, this could signal the first real breakthrough since it all went wrong. People will be gathering soon to hear from me and I’m not sure what to do.

  “From tonight, you will be able to gaze upwards and see nothing save a cloud or two, and the distant twinkling light of something long gone, this will be the single most important act of the revolution to date: no messages, no adverts, no reminders, no instructions. I ask you not to be afraid, let us embrace how tiny we are. This is not retreating as the technologists claim rather a reclamation of our freedom to exist and dream, worry and imagine.” These words were found on a piece of paper, actually written down , as the man was fatally shot entering level four with a massive spanner.  Tests showed he had been drinking, add it to the next bulletin.