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

The president thinks he'll win because he is powerful, the artist thinks he'll win because he is true, the politician thinks he'll win because he has the mandate and the factory owners thinks they'll win because they put the most hours in. It is Tuesday and all those that feel themselves important but really, we can do without are racing for their lives. The first to find the marked animals will be spared. 

Corby is hardly a royal hotspot so the sight of 42 men, women and children, all with the face of Queen Elizabeth II running riot, bloodied and confused was not only worrying but out of character. With such an unusual event to cover the Corby Mercury & Citizen ordered a second print run, the first since Cat Stevens became lodged in a drain during a meet and greet in the late 1980's. PC Williams, quoted in the CM&M confirmed a local man was being held in custody and interviewed by very clever scientists.

The sparrow with the face of a boy, who avoids windows and wishes he'd never owned a monkeys paw took an age to get back to New York, his tiny wings pushed to the absolute limit. Somewhere, in a fancy condominium, there is a old man with face of a sparrow watching the sky. Who will emerge victorious?

People drown in all sorts of ways, most of the time alone and tired. These are those we try to save, by talking,  by listening, we try to stop people drowning as best we can and it's so hard. Sometimes I think I am being filled up with all the bad in the world and worry what will happen to me when there's no room left. Will I look out to sea then and if I do will someone be there for me or will I be too familiar  with their words for them to have an affect? But for now I listen as hard as I can, listen until I can hear the beat of a heart, the faintest glimmer of hope and do my best to keep it alive.

I'm digging now, like a termite. Amongst the last to leave, the least trusted perhaps, everything I had has been been left behind, when we reach the mainland we are told we will be reborn. Give me the bravery to remember and the grace to forgive. Will I break through like a maggot or a butterfly ? What sounds will I make this time ? I try to ask but very quietly so the guards patrolling above don't hear.

He can't find any where to put his drink down, the table, thick with papers and folders, three mobile phones and two laptops.  The walls are similarly covered, she pulls a face and takes the mug and puts it on the floor, moving a bag to make room. "We need to concentrate, you need to listen. This is it, proof, confirmation of, if not a complete conspiracy then at least coordinated programs to ethnically cleanse " she holds her hand out to stop him interrupting, " ethnically cleanse a whole subsection of society, " She opens her arms out wide indicating everything in the room. " We can't stand by can we ? ". She needs him, no doubt about that, he points at the print out behind her, " That advert for Kent, the one saying Breathe fresh, Feel Better ?" She is gathering things in her arms now, though its hard to see the logic in her selections, "Obvious isn't it, I'm amazed they've got a way with it for so long" ...

Once more the fires are lit and the singing begins, the communion filling the valley. Today is another day saved but the land is disappearing at an alarming rate, oil and blood mixed together and siphoned out, leaving the husk of a community. Less than thirty families remain now but  not for much longer. Take a look at your watch and remember how the earth feels.