The Merry-Go-Round

Unceremoniously we are placed aboard by unseen hands. Our eyes still closed we grab on instinctively as we and everything else spins round at terrifying velocities. 

Cautiously we open our eyes and the lights dazzle us then, noticing meaning within the seeming chaos; patterns and colours and faces and things, the fear slowly recedes.

Incrementally we start to make sense of things. Then just as we are beginning to almost feel at home amid the great spinning absurdness of it all, our senses and faculties of mind commence to fail and the fear returns. 

Inevitably our bony fingers lose their grip and we are flung from the contraption, our body fuelling the rapid revolutions of the next passenger.

The Party

"Oh it's not that you're interesting" she explained "you're just the least boring."

Great Dialogue

I said something then they said something then I said something else then the conversation sort of came to an end.

A Literary End

The secret death-wish of all novelists: to be squashed beautifully by a pallet of pristine blank A4 paper.

Metaphors 2

Just as a house with a door and two windows is not a face so Nature is not God.

The Leak

When Mr Lipinski bathroom tap, that had leaked for twenty years, suddenly stopped leaking Mr Lipinski called a plumber to fix it.

The House

A long time ago now on my way up Hornsey Lane to work I passed an old lady standing on the other side of the road next to an easel with a picture of a house.

"Have you got a cigarette?" she shouted across the road.
"I don't smoke" I shouted back.

For a long time after that the old lady would be there each morning building the house in the picture. For some reason she started with the roof then the walls and ended with the foundations. 

I never saw anyone help her and think she built the whole place by herself, which was really quite something for a woman of her advanced years. It took her months. 
(I don't know if she worked on the house on the weekends.) 
Every day I passed she would shout across the road: "Have you got a cigarette?" and I would shout back "I don't smoke."

A few days before her house was finished I passed by as usual and she had opened her mouth to shout "Have you got a cigarette?" when I beat her to it and shouted "I don't smoke."
  
"Prick" shouted the old lady.

*

When her house was finished the old lady went away and no one ever lived in the house. I don't know why, perhaps it was all that non-existent cigarette smoke that put people off.