Daily Story

The Incredible Clockwork Boy wouldn't come out. One too many punters had made a joke about winding him up, and he had stomped off stage as hard as his delicate legs could manage. "Oh, he's ticked off now," a voice shouted as he went.

The fireworks stood in the air, burning like a migraine, more bursting every moment. Soon it would be so bright it would look like daytime. The sound was constant too, every bang turning to a drone. We screamed out at the night to stop letting them off, to give the

There are new things in the sky, smooth white disks stacked atop each other, that seem to hover in place. I never see them move, except to rise higher until they are too far away to see. They either don't have lights, or they don't come

"Wood splits. Concrete cracks. Metal rusts. Why not build in wonderful plastic?" The poster must have been there for decades. We knew we would never get it off in one piece, so we set up lights and took good photographs. We knew that someone, somewhere, would want it

She brought him cake soaked in syrup, too sticky to eat. It made him angry, although he knew it shouldn't. He watched the sugar crystallise on the paper bag, then threw it away, untasted. The next day she brought him gingerbread, warm and fragrant. But that made him

In quiet moments I heard music, but there was never enough quiet to hear it properly. What brief phrases I made out seemed to dissolve when the noise returned and pushed them out. Notes scattered into engine pings and cat cries and distant drilling. Finally I sealed myself in the

I found myself on that narrow borderline, where I seemed comfortable enough until my clothes started to wear out, where I could survive until any little thing went wrong. It felt like I had tripped but hadn't started falling yet. I was at all times reaching out, grabbing

The stories have all got mixed up. You pull a sword from the stone and all the evils of the world fly out. You kiss a frog and it turns into a wolf. There you go, trying to put them all back in order and only getting yourself more muddled.

It didn't take long to untie a few knots, loosen a screw here and there, and put a dab of glue where glue ought not be. A little rearranging of the world to make it safer, like cutting a firebreak. The machine would start again tomorrow, even so.

Between the channels on the radio, if you listen long enough and gentle enough, there are voices whispering. Sometimes there is strange music, a melody you never quite hear properly but find yourself humming days later. It's an enchanting place, between the channels, in the static and the