Edith Buchanan's Wonderful Machine This week's story is about a magic lamp that, as far as we can tell, does not have a genie in it.
Worried I was worried about the yellowing around my fingernails, a dirty sort of yellow, like I had been smoking all my life. I was worried about the skin cracking at the corner of my mouth, and the taste when I woke, and the way my tongue felt too big by
Doubtful ballot I spent forty minutes tucked in the little booth, drawing on my ballot paper with the stubby pencil. Nobody can look at you there. It's not allowed. They have to leave you alone to make whatever mark you choose. I drew a different thing in every square, six
A flash Lightning struck the spire, then stayed, stretched across the sky like a nerve. On cold days it stretched out taut and thrummed in the wind; on warm days it curled lazily around the sky. Before long we found we were navigating by it, without thinking: it framed our space the
Pass the parcel Jenny always joined in with pass-the-parcel, so I wrapped the ring box up in golden paper and made that the big prize in the middle. Haribo friendship rings in some of the layers, just to drop a hint. Of course I checked with her sister and her niece first. I
Scheduled departure We had been waiting for the train a very long time. A few of the songs we sang had become favourites: one about the train that would come one day, most about the things we had done while we were waiting. On Saturdays we played a game, throwing coffee cups
A little better today The dull dread had drained from his limbs while he slept. It must be in the sheets somewhere: he sprang up to go about washing them. Crisp, fresh linen for a crisp, fresh day. They dried double-quick in the sun, and as he watched the low wind fill them he
Paper wasps I took the little box you made me out to the garage, where the wasps build their nests. Such light, papery things they make. It will take them decades to get through it. At the end of each winter I cut down the empty nest and hang it gently from
Right Through You It suddenly turned very cold this week, so here's a story about becoming very cold and possibly never warming up again. Also, Uncertain Stories have a little Q&A with me about my story 'All Seasons Sweet'. I'm grateful to them for not
Paragliders We sat and watched the paragliders circling above us, and I told her what my brother had told me, about how the geological fault that built the cliffs they sailed from was still moving the landscape today, and the paragliders were the only way to monitor the shifting ground. Halfway