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

Softer than air We stand together, our feet in the lapping waves people look the other way

When the deputy whom the concrete slab fell on came round, he found to his surprise that he'd suffered a series of minor strokes, the least serious of which caused him to end every sentence with the word 'past'. This story was told to me by a man in glasses too large for his face and to whom I had to buy four pints as payment for this entertainment. Jimmy Carr you have been warned. 

In the last seconds of Joe Kirbys life, as he pulled the trigger only to produce a bunch of silk flower his mind flashed to Curly Chris, the lieutenant famous for his sense of quirky sense of humour.

He forgot most of the story and what he remembered the police ripped to shreds but Connor hoped he'd bought his sister enough time to rescue the troglodyte people and lead them back once more to the surface, the money they'd managed to squirrel away had easily paid for the new burrowing device. Now, to convince Nicholas Cage to play him in the film.

Now I can buy meals for one, now I can watch the ice truckers. The rings on the sideboard are all I have left of our time together and if that wasn't veneer I'd sand it. This is what you mean, or meant, you'll never hear from me again. I send the email and spend the next two hours refreshing my Inbox.

As the lift door closes Sam jabs at the button but he's too late and as the sound of the cables tightening begins he know he'll never get her eyes out of his head. She'd been only two feet away, a single step. He feels cold suddenly, freezing, all body heat evaporated as if every blood cell and platelet has rushed to his brain, to record her eye in high defination, to torment him for eternity. He lifts his hand to cheek, cold as the moon. But in his mind, her eyes, green with brown flecks, pupils caught dilating as she met his gaze, the iris molten, swirling, a galaxy.

Ashes to ashes... I sit quietly, not out of respect or grief but out of fear. I know what goes on behind those doors. I do not want to see the organist with fifteen extra prosthetic limbs, no, I'd rather avoid the tea lady , her mouth with three layers of dentures, a Mako in an apron and I'd definitely run a mile before agreeing to clean out the furnace with Old Bob who's twin pacemakers give him the energy of two 50 year old men. My brother dealt with the passing of our uncle in strange ways, the stories he told me as we sat there in the pews. Well, who laughing now eh Ray, Hows your hip now ? ..dust to dust..