How do we see ourselves? Do others see us the way? What about a wheel-chair bound man? the San people of the Kalahari? our pets? a visiting alien?
Ice Madeand other stories
Aeschia
SF (first contact)
A story has a shape - and a function. Like clay, in conveying the artist's intent, it acquires form and becomes fine or lumpy. A pottery of words. If the Earth is the cradle of mankind, then the radio and TV signals we've been hammering out for almost a century are the baby alarm. Will we be heard and if so, what will come? Aeschia is one answer – a creature sensitive to the thoughts of others. She lands in Paris.
A Certain Full Moon
Ghost / Romance
Den is a likely lad in the sense he is likely to do something rash (that will land him in trouble). He encounters a ghost who is compelled to relive a hideous fate, again and again. That's where it all kicks off.
Eggman
Horror / Humour
Frederick is the much put upon assistant to Harry West, re-animator and general mad scientist. The subject of this re-animation experiment is an ex-beatnik, who was renowned for breaking into poetry part way through each song. Any mad scientist's assistant worth his salt would rely on more than moral force should things get tough. Frederick has 'Good Night's Rest'. No Lovecraft imitation would be complete without a monster. The action - dangerous, illegal and morally repugnant - takes place south of the Adirondacks, in HP Lovecraft country.
Fugitive
Post Urban
The last library of mankind is in better shape than the people that use it. The end of things as we know them isn’t far off. What happens when there is no-one left to record events? Is that the end of history? Is the fugitive hero, villain or neither?
The Wrong Lane
Urban
The road’s blocked, you took the wrong lane and you're stuck in the concrete jungle.
End of the Line
Urban
You've escaped the concrete jungle but now you must deal with the end of the line.
The Old House
Ghost
An old house – why hasn't it been vandalised? Your dare is to go in. Was it wise to bone up on Lovecraft first?
Ice Made
Fiction - Fantasy
Ice sculpting nowadays is fast and furious with power tools and time saving gadgets galore. Allen has the perfect spot, twenty miles from Labrador City - Lac Opiscoteo; but he hasn't moved with the times. Over the years his commissions have grown less and less. He clings to his old fashioned ways, laboriously chipping away at his creations. What future can there be for him?
A Firmament of Stars
Philosophical Fiction
Sophie's parents have the chance of a lifetime. They up sticks and leave Paris for the uranium (yellowcake) mines in Namibia. Who will benefit most from this arrangement, they, or Sophie? The beliefs of the San peoples of the Kalahari are difficult for us to comprehend – but they shouldn't be.
The India Box
Fiction
Through the India Box, Jill discovers the truth about her father. However this leaves her facing a conundrum; if she follows her desires, she will be going one worse than her father; but no-one need ever know. What should she do?
Impressions
Religious
“I like the countryside better than the town. At night the stars light up the sky. They twinkle in God's firmament... This is his creation. The realm is vast. Not small and petty, like the minds of men, but stretching to the far shores of infinity. And we can see just the smallest filament of a loose thread, at the hem of His mighty garment.”
So says the wheelchair bound protagonist.
Excerpt
Excerpt from 'Eggman'
My bone-bag rattled comfortingly. They were all there; Lenny's last mortal remains. Thirty years dead.
He'd been a beatnik, and a singer. Back then in the sixties, all groups had had gimmicks. In his, the band would stop part way through a song and Lenny would read some of his poetry. To perfect silence. Each stanza would be punctuated in some way by the drummer. I remembered the gimmick but not the name of his group. I thought about it. All that came back to me was a driving beat.
Chun-h. Chun-h. Chunchunchun-h.
Chun-h. Chun-h. Chunchunchun-h.
These jobs were unpleasant but there's always interest.
"Well come on!"
My train of thought was broken. I handed the bone-bag to him.
"Will it work?" I asked.
"We shall see. Don't disturb me."
I looked out of the window nervously, only half hearing his reply, leaving him to examine the contents. The airs of the day had succumbed to the sullen soughs of a gusty night wind. A distant roll of thunder seemed to echo down from the mountains in the north.
I was with Harry West. Blond, slightly built and bespectacled, he was the very picture of a student. But once you looked into his steely eyes and heard him speak, his implacable and driven nature soon became apparent; that and an arrogant air of superiority.
'Coruscated Confabulations' is a collection of stories and experiences, most of which took place in prior decades. They are taken from or based upon real events, with a certain admixture of fictional embellishments.
'Coruscated Confabulations' is a collection of stories and experiences, most of which took place in prior decades. They are taken from or based upon real events, with a certain admixture of fictional embellishments.
