Foible and Sybelle stood a fist-width apart then swooned together, at last. They burrowed each other as leaves fell; locked themselves up through ice, snow, frost; cradled inside flurries of blossom then, while the sun peaked, took a step back and looked on the thing created right there.

Published in: on October 31, 2010 at 8:53 pm  Leave a Comment  


Past the far end of the platform were seven gated brick arches, filled with Buddleia and aged with moss. Foible counted the arches and watched their heights increase while the train slowed. When the train pulled away past the other end of the platform he saw three men with notebooks and wondered should he join them?

Published in: on October 23, 2010 at 9:47 am  Leave a Comment  


Sybelle said, “For god’s sake Foible, why do you brutalize yourself like this?”
Foible said, “That’s easy: I’ve constructed a world and its design principle is brutality. But sometimes the world is not brutal enough and begins to fade. Then I must make up the difference. I create brutality inside when I can’t find enough outside. Then the world comes back into focus. You see, if my world fades, I fade too. I must maintain a balance to exist.”
Sybelle said, “That makes terrible sense Foible. But I have other principles for you. Try ‘awareness’ or ‘beauty’ or ‘love’.
Foible said, “Yes, I am ready to do that now”.

Published in: on October 20, 2010 at 6:05 pm  Leave a Comment  


All of this appeared at the window amongst the chatter and flicker. All of this also appeared in his head. He laughed out loud. “So that’s how it all works,” he said. “I’ve made all of this myself have I? And I keep it up with my chatter and my flicker?”

Published in: on October 17, 2010 at 3:36 pm  Leave a Comment  


Foible climbed into his wintercoat and began to travel downwards. In the Underglobe plugs of warm air slewed by. He had no sense of depth, direction or range as the train took him further beneath. He played around with the word “fragre”; one of the overglobe’s judgement criteria. He read poems. He sought light.

Published in: on October 12, 2010 at 5:47 pm  Leave a Comment  


Autumn came but its pieces arrived out of order and disconnected. Trees withdrew into themselves. Life fell back into the core  leaving extremes to blaze and decay. Wind puttered about not quite starting. Summer’s heat remained, steeped into soil and hedges, holding off the sloe frost. Foible drummed his fingers and tapped his feet, impatient for Winter, his mother, his mentor.

Published in: on October 10, 2010 at 5:54 pm  Leave a Comment  


Seven years passed and the time came for Foible to examine his body. Things had slowed and sagged a little but his bulk and the mechanics housed there were still intact.  He also found that over the years his lower back had clenched into a shape reflected by his mind. “This won’t do at all.” Foible decided, and set about loosening things up. The mind and the back looked up from their coitus and realised that the game was up.

Seven years of life uncoiled beautifully ahead of Foible. He shook himself off. The bits that had caked around him fell away.

Published in: on October 10, 2010 at 10:38 am  Leave a Comment  


Sybelle sat across the table from Foible. They spoke about the journey. Foible established that she was concerned only with their destination and wasn’t able to see the view from the window. Sybelle wanted to know what to talk about next. Foible savoured these words and paid little attention to their meaning. Sybelle drummed her fingers on the formica. The drinks ‘n’ snacks trolley paced its way down the aisle. Foible chose coffee. Sybelle took a glass of wine.

Published in: on October 10, 2010 at 9:49 am  Leave a Comment  

Harkiron’s Return

Foible was angry at Harkiron for squirming false authority into his head. As soon as his attention turned fully on to this construct, it vanished. He was left drained; enervated by the loss of a parasite. He began to learn new ways of standing, of holding himself, of aligning his mind.

Published in: on October 6, 2010 at 8:36 pm  Leave a Comment  


He wandered about for some time taking measurements and making adjustments with the instruments in the leather bag. The readings told Foible that Cantalubrion was nothing but a large box. He found the lid, pushed and climbed outside. In spite of Harkiron’s warnings, Foible did not suddenly become a wild and violent man. Instead he became free to be more himself. Harkiron watched from a distance.

Published in: on October 6, 2010 at 10:41 am  Leave a Comment