Animals of October

As this blog winds its way down to its end, I have some exciting and delightful news. Yesterday I signed a contract to have my collection of animal-based short stories published at some point in 2021. These are the weird tales I've been peddling for the last six or seven years as individual pieces, and I'm absolutely stoked that they're finally being corralled together into a collected menagerie. The collection will be titled Fauna  and will be published by a super-cool, socially conscious independent press (I won't say who they are yet as they want to finalise their 2021 catalogue and announce it all properly together). It will include stories about a mimed elephant, time-travelling horses, a mysterious panda, guinea pigs in the underworld, vengeful birds, and a pig with skin made of bacon. They are, true to form, very weird stories that don't necessarily behave in the way that stories should - but that's kind of the point. When it comes to animals, we have our...

A dearth of animal encounters yesterday, largely because I have started a new job and so am chained to my computer and confined to my study. I considered squeezing out a blog-post about the computer mouse (why is it a mouse? What's up with that?), but I doubt anyone really wanted that, least of all me. So, instead, I used Microsoft Excel to help me generate a random number and turned to page 227 of the Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures, as featured in a former post . I landed upon 'Gabriel Hounds', who are deadly cryptids from British mythology who visit the houses of sick people as a sign of imminent death . I therefore present to you this prose-poem thing about the work ethic of these death-beasts and their boss. Views entirely my own. Gabriel Hounds They say hell hath truly arrived when the hounds need a spreadsheet.  When they lope up to Gabriel, tails between legs, and implore him to download Excel. Hell hath truly arrived when Gabriel, normally so supercilious, conced...

I always intended to use this blog for fictional as well as non-fictional writings, so here’s the first attempt at a little story-tale. For guidance, I asked Twitter to supply me with numbers to lead me to an entry in The Element Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures by John & Caitlin Matthews, which I have here on my desk. Grace Fletcher-Hackwood (@msgracefa) and Jo Howard (@joannuski) were the first to respond, selecting Cacus; a fearsome half-spider, half-human, three-headed beast from Greek mythology, and Adar Llwch Gwin; some mighty giant birds from Welsh mythology, whose name translates to 'Dustwine' (for some unexplained reason). The following tale is the result of this mythic mash-up. Big thanks to Grace and Jo!   Quite the Monster?   One head for talking, one for eating, and one for breathing fire. And so, if you cared or dared to look dearest Hercules, that means three entirely different throat structures and, I expect, three separate stomachs; one shriveled...

Now I know we covered guinea pigs yesterday, but this latest encounter was too good to pass over. Hannah has received her own entry to the Badly Drawn Pets fundraiser , which I mentioned in blogpost one a few days ago .* Hannah sent in a picture of a trio of our guinea pigs; Crystal, Debpig, and Homer, and has received back this delightful effort. Marvel at the Demon Debpig from Valhalla, and Homer’s weirdly distended cheek. One’s eyes are drawn to the hypnotising smiles of each subject, like a triptych of mammal Mona Lisas, and we might ask; what thoughts are passing through those fuzzy heads? Benevolence or malevolence? Amusement at the folly of art, or the hint of anticipation towards the eventual sating of lettuce-based hunger?  The artist is, at present, anonymous. All we know is that it was produced by a staff or volunteer at the Manchester & Salford RSPCA and that Hannah deliberately asked for, and I quote, ‘someone who can’t draw’. Such an assessment is unfair, I feel. ...

One of my most treasured possessions is this stamp gifted to me by Hannah some years ago. It’s a wren perched on the words ‘EX LIBRIS David Hartley’ and I use it to stamp the title pages of every book I own that I finish reading. I used it yesterday after closing the last page of Ali Smith’s Winter , book two of her beguiling and fabulous seasons quartet, the one with the disembodied head and the ladies of the Greenham Common protest. I actually saw Smith reading from the book shortly after it was published and was amazed to discover that her writing was right up my street. The covers of her books do not convey the wicked weirdnesses within - quite the opposite. Not only is she one of our finest contemporary writers, she’s superbly skilled at weird fiction, although that might be a genre too far for the literary crowd. Well, let’s not get fall into that pit spikes or you’ll never get me out. The wren has some special significance for me as it forms part of a nickname for my autistic si...