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

St Malcolms Hospice for the Lame and Needy was only twenty minutes by car which meant I could grab a bite to eat on the way, although I wish now this had come from a real shop. I remember sitting in the lobby waiting to be called in, trying hard to swallow the last chunk of donut that had become awkwardly lodged in my throat, this was my 14th interview and coughing up part masticated pastry product was unlikely to ensure it would be my last. Nothing had gone particularly to plan so far, I was having trouble reading my prepared cue cards, it had been a mistake to use the green biro especially on the lilac paper : to say thank you to an aunt for record voucher it would be a fine choice but in this light I needed more contrast. "Gryff ?" I got up at the sound of my name and followed the voice through the large doors, concentrating on making my face look relaxed, friendly but professional. "Hello, please take a seat, would you like a glass of water?" I nodded m...

The omelette never got made. The phone number hidden in the giant hen that contained the eggs should never have been left there; the excuse that she made would have been better left unsaid and the ceramic leek with a grotesque face should not have been the weaker object when thrown at his head from such a distance. She wasn't hungry anymore.

Two tigers on the window sill, one empty, the second untouched; Ross wondered whether this was significant, it was one of those cases where you looked for clues anywhere you could find them. The kitchen he stood in was stripped bare of all free standing furniture as were the majority of the other rooms; they'd seen that as soon as the door had been put through : the staircase rammed full of chairs, tables, chests of drawers, anything substantial that could be used as a barricade was there. It had taken them fifteen minutes to work their way upstairs, dismantling and passing back furniture as they did, only to be greeted with more impossible structures upstairs blocking any route into or out of the small bedroom. The phone call hadn't been specific but it had been enough to warrant an investigation. There was something in the vagueness that was more unsettling, Ross and Manoj had got there first but neither understood what they were dealing with. The first b...

Everything is fine now. She would be smiling. She would be laughing at us now, here. She turns my lips into a smile as I remember. Keeping me in line, in check. My wife, my mother, my daughter. Everything is fine now. Now everything is fine.

Paul's nose was plugged with dust, his skin prickly to the touch but the balsa figures were finished just in time. Tomorrow, the council leaders were coming for their final consultation meeting and by this time next month he and the other artists, prop makers and photographers would be looking for new premises. Unless... Quietly, to avoid waking the mechanics Alsatian across, he carried the statues one by one into the street. It was dark, little chance of being disturbed, thankfully. He'd have to sleep there to be sure, his car, a blue polo was parked up ready; blankets and a hot flask on the passenger seat.  After a few more finishing touches  then opening the door by key rather than risk the beeping of the remote control clicker, he settled down and pulled the blanket tight.  Paul went through the plan and worried once again that he'd only actually seen it work in a cartoon.

Dear Chief Inspector, Scotland Yard, London. I have become aware of the threat to our country and perhaps to the world, I wouldn't dream of teaching you to how to go about your business but would like to offer my intelligence, from the ground. (please see attached sketches and annotated map). I have watched them climb out a hole in the ground armed with bones and roots and old coins. Thousands swarming, each independent of each other, no collective consciousness, we can't shoot the Chief and watch the Indians scuttle back below, we will have to take them out one by one. I've drawn up plans here for our fight back, phase one sees us repel the invaders, phase two takes us into alien territory, to commit justifiable genocide. I'm emailing these to you so you can get on with it straight away. (see detailed plans - phases one and two). yours gravely David Tebbs  ps. do you have the email address of the head of the army ?

Up from the 36 chambers they came, all black and gold, bats and slacks: Spam Kings, the last gang on the estate, alone in their dominion, eating doritos and ordering pizzas. Our village has been plagued by trouble recently; crude graffiti, disappearing milk and newsagent walk offs and finally we've had enough. That was why we called them. If you want to beat a cancer you have to become a cancer Thomas said, he had contacts that could help us in ways the police had been unable to. That was how how we got in touch with them. The initial meeting between the members of the village society and representatives of the Spam Kings was cordial I'd say. We have more in common than I'd initially thought, we all like Jazz and Coke for a start and it was easy to agree the improvements we wish for our community. They start work tomorrow, I imagine it will only take a day or two.