Tuesday, moor-day.

Out onto the moor today. In the midst of all the busy-ness, the prospect of putting miles of moorland under my feet and acres of clear sky in my eyes gladdens my heart like the homecoming that it is, ‘though greater, when I’m out with the skylarks, the buzzards and the long grass. I’ll sing and talk to myself and remember all manner of forgotten things, be dazzled and devastated in turn by the world and the twists and turns of this story. And then I’ll come back to this house and the wind’ll echo in my head and my spirit and soul will be singing with lark-song and hawk-cry and I’ll begin the busy-ness again, renewed, recollected, my intent honed to a fine edge and my body alive with the wild.

Merrivale

Photos are not mine – you can find them here, and here, and here.
His Silence and the End of Time

The Scrimstone Circus Gospel :: part three

This is the final part of a short piece which came out in book form earlier this year. Part one is here – you should read it first!

To read more about this piece, have a look at this post, which has links to all manner of things about it, and the book of which it is part… The illustration at the head of the page is a detail from Rima‘s accompanying pencil drawings, to which the previous post also has links.


Part three: His Silence and The End of Time

My enemies grew strong in fifteen years. The world changed. The rulers of men’s lives have always been the rich and the empty-hearted, but now they were emboldened. Greed rose from their mouths like grasping snakes of smoke. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore it. All around, I heard the world groaning. I plugged my ears and moved one foot in front of another. Continue reading

The Scrimstone Circus Gospel (1) - (c) Rima Staines

The Scrimstone Circus Gospel :: part two

This is part two of a short piece which came out in book form earlier this year. Part one is here – you should read it first!

To read more about this piece, have a look at this post, which has links to all manner of things about it, and the book of which it is part… The illustration at the head of the page is a detail from Rima‘s accompanying pencil drawings, to which the previous post also has links.


Part two: A Circus is a Church

“Ladies and gentlemen! Lay-dees and gent-el-men! Roll up, roll up, roll up . . . ”

I look out at them there in the grey rain and the candy-floss night and my eyelids flicker with the dismalness of it all. Look at them. Content with so little and yet . . . and yet . . . Content with so much discontent in themselves. I cannot fathom it. Cannot, will not. So much could be theirs. So much wonder, so much passion, so much life. They accept a thin wafer of it, a bowl of gruel, with a tip of their hats in thanks. Why not bow too, or curtsy? Kiss their masters’ feet? Their lives could be a feast. I hate them for it, for their acquiescence to such a shallow plot of happiness. For this, what do they receive? They are used by governments, by business, by bankers and money-men to play their parts in the machine of it all. They enter into such one-sided bargains and I cannot, will not, let it go unsaid. It leaves me with despair and a curse for him who left me here among them. Whether he hears my curse or not, I don’t know. Do not mis-cast me as a villain, friend. My curse is, I admit, no more than the curse of the rejected lover to the beloved. Do not tell anyone – there may be A Scene. Continue reading

Time :: The Lazy Gramophone Press

The Time Project

Way back when, almost in the before of before, but actually just after the beginning and not too long after the previous end, it came about that I was asked to write a short story for the Lazy Gramophone Press. Rima was to provide illustrations, and the story was to be the backbone of a strange and bold publication in which a number of other stories would branch off like ribs from the first tale, crossing over at crucial junctures and forming a multi-dimensional entity that is much better described by Rima here. This was some time in the latter half of 2010. 2010! I had not long arrived in Devon and had just begun my Chinese Medicine studies – it seems like another story entirely. Continue reading

The Sun Princess herself

The Sun Princess and the Fortieth Door

I’m sitting in dappled light. A few feet away, honey bees are busy at the entrance to a top-bar hive. A night of rain has softened the land-burn of Summer and I’m mulling over the tale I’ll be telling in just over a week in Moretonhampstead and then a few weeks later by the fires of Uncivilisation. Welcome to the story of the Sun Princess. Continue reading

Words by Tom Hirons

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