To whom it may concern

The man from Everything Corn took a step back, the better to take in the full glory of his store-front Halloween display.

Grinning jack-o-lanterns painstakingly woven from dried out corn husks sat in the gloom cast by towering sheathes bound in black and orange twine, corn dollies of more than usually sinister aspect lurked menacingly in every place a little man made of corn could conceivably lurk, and a great cauldron filled with corn syrup and topped with a crisp layer of stover bubbled in one corner.

Across the street, hollowed-out pumpkin faces gibbered and winked. He ignored them all.

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

( Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: Harvest

( Read more... )

"You know me," said the Mayor. "Light-touch regulation only. I keep the taxes low, I make sure the milk floats have enough engine power to catch a fleeing teenage boy, and once every thirteen years I organise a single camping trip that inevitably has one fatality."

He paused for a moment, considering.

"You know, I think that gives me a better safety record than the Boy Scouts," he added. "Maybe I should make that a talking point for my next campaign."

Radford scoffed, poured them both another glass.

"I don't know why you bother," he said. "Nobody runs against you."

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

( Read more... )

Sirens wailed, bells clanged, wheels screeched, and Mayor Chisel watched without much interest as a Dalmation in a bright-red hard hat opened the door of Eerie's single gleaming fire engine and men in black robes poured out.

He noticed in passing that some of their axe-heads were looking a little dull, and made a note to speak with the Fire Chief. Dull blades were fine for house fires and rampaging lizards escaped from the drive-in movie screen, but they wouldn't do if there was trouble at the Eerie Bingo Parlour.

And there was always trouble at the Eerie Bingo Parlour.

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

( Read more... )

"In retrospect," said Bartholomew J. Radford, surveying the black and smoking crater that had until recently been an end-cap display of brightly-coloured seasonal confectionary, "Stocking the Dragon Eggs(TM), the candy-coated novelty Easter chocolate right alongside Dragon Eggs(TM), the embryonic form of a fire-breathing carnivorous reptile with a voracious appetite and few social graces may have been a mistake on my part."

The Mayor produced a spotless red silk handkerchief from the pocket of his crisp charcoal-grey suit jacket and wiped a smear of ash from the tip of one shoe. The fabric appeared unsullied by the action, the soot and blood flaking away almost before contact was made, leaving behind only a faint hiss and the smell of lavender.

"You may be right," he allowed. "Perhaps the dragon eggs which will eventually hatch into actual dragons should be kept in another part of the store. With the fireworks, possibly. Or next to the crossbows."

Radford shook his head mournfully.

"No room," he said. "That whole section is full up with unsaleable metric conversion tables. I've been trying to shift them for years, but nobody's buying."

"Market them to the cows," suggested Chisel. "They're easily confused, but they want to learn."

Ongoing Verse: Easter Weekend

( Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be



Preparations by froodle. Winston Chisel, the morning he became Mayor.

Confluence, in which Eerie experiences a midsummer and a full moon and takes full advantage of both

Harvest, in which it is 1979, and the Harvest Moon is rising

Hungry, in which the Mayor is unimpressed

Licensing, in which Chisel lays down some bureaucracy

Light Pollution, in which there is a newcomer in town

The Storm, in which Mayor Chisel has a very specific job for Eerie's resident weatherman

Not Welcome, in which there is an intruder at the World o' Stuff

Reading Room, in which Marshall looks around

Subsidence, in which the Loya Order of Corn experiances some structural issues

Shattered Dreams, in which there are space whales

Greenery, in which there are hanging baskets

Loss Prevention, in which there is hubbub at the Eerie Mall

Targeted Marketing, in which Radford has some promotional material

Capability, in which the are Bigfoots, and Marshall is unwell

The Listener, in which Eerie dreams, and Melanie watches

Populace, in which it is just another normal day

Still, in which there are worst things than Old Bob

Clockface, in which there is an early start, and a character death

CAT, in which two members of the Canine Liberation Army go on patrol, and have an unpleasant experience

Blue Apron, in which Mayor Chisxel considers an expansion to the town by-laws

National Garlic Day, in which there are vampires, and restauranteurs, and conflict

Housekeeping, in which there is a cult, and things get awkward

Strawberry, in which Eerie celebrates the summer

High Speed Sanitation, in which there is a street race

World Chocolate Day, in which there is a heatwave

Pressure Tactics, in which Chisel faces off against Eerie's ravens

Upgrade, in which there are changes happening at the Eerie Library

Waterlogged, in which there is a problem with the Eerie water supply

Bag for Death, in which Radford is a born salesman, and Radford is learning

Eww... in which Simon makes bad choices

Public Spaces, in which there is a soiree

Deterrent, in which there are pigeon spikes

The Bad News List, in which Dash is himself

Leisurewear, in which the Loyal Order of Corn has a surprisingly generous leave policy

Jackolantern, in which there is a disturbance at the local pumpkin patch

Pest Control, in which the Mayor is an unhappy customer

Frost Spiders, in which Eerie's Christmas decorations are very beautiful

Freelancing, in which Sara Sue takes a consultancy gig

Presentation, in which Chisel has an edict, and Simon has a plan

Email, in which Marshall is 29 and Eerie is never as far away as you think

Agenda, in which the Mayor takes a meeting

Visitor, in which Marshall's grandmother comes to stay

The wooden handle of the spatula was smooth, sturdy, and slightly warm to the touch, as though the ghosts of every chef who'd come before her had left some trace of themselves upon it. The head was a glossy rounded curve of smooth and flexible rubber, supple and unbroken.

And yet...

"Tod," said Janet, trying to pitch her voice at it's most un-judgemental level and probably failing, "Do you have any kitchen utensils without skulls and bats and pumpkins all over them?"

The smile of the grinning jackolantern on her spatular seemed to fade a little.

"Nope," said Tod. "None."

Ongoing Verse: Janet

( Read more... )

The moray eels in their human skin suit surveyed the locked doors of the Eerie Museum of Aquatic Mysteries with suspicious eyes and downturned mouths. They carried a backpack, though technically not on their backs, and the straps hung strangely over lopsided and sagging shoulders supported by no scapula or collarbone.

In the backpack was a recipe book, old and worn and much-repaired with sticking tape and the best efforts of creatures without opposable thumbs. Or any thumbs. Or digits at all, really.

"1001 Atlantean Delicacies for the Discerning Piscivore" was a best-seller, and they were determined to use it.

Ongoing Verse: Janet

( Read more... )

The window of the little bathroom was plain glass, though fortunately some previous tenant had thought to apply a layer of frosted privacy-preserving adhesive along the inside at one point. Now, as the bright winter sun streamed through the cloudy surface to form a golden rectangle on the aging tiles beside the sink, Simon could see the silhouette of a seated cat clearly outlined against the glow.

He turned the tap off, dried his hands.

"Hello," he said to the shadowy outline. The cat's ears flicked and it turned it's featureless head towards him.

Simon reached out. The cat purred.

Ongoing Verse: Microwave

( Read more... )

The Riding Mower Dads hovered at the very edge of their lush green lawns, the air around them filling up with the grumble of an idling engine and the think fug of petrol fumes. Their eyes were hidden beneath the brim of their identical white bucket hats, but their mouths were set in a thin, tight line.

In the centre of the road, far from whirring blades and the well-aimed kicks of passing legs, the dogs sat. Tongues lolling, teeth exposed in a mocking canine grin. The Riding Mower Dads knew what came next. The dogs knew too.

All waited.

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

( Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: CAT

( Read more... )

The fountain in the centre of town had frozen over and the cold had made the things that lived below it listless and sluggish.

Sluggish, but still hungry.

The sanitation engineers - the title was an important distinction in a town where Garbagemen were not men and collected things that were not garbage - used pool hooks to tug the larger pieces free from the pink-stained ice. The smaller parts, fingers, toes, teeth and the single still-blinking blue eye that bobbed, untethered, in a shallow pool of melt-water, would require the use of a shrimping net.

A shrimping net, and much caution.

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

( Read more... )

Sara Sue remembered the girl, all in black, carrying the filmy outline of another person over her own face like a mask sketched in chalk. She felt sick.

The Mayor noticed her change in expression, and laughed.

"Ah," he said. "This one gets it. A shame you never loved your father or brothers; their clinging ghosts would have made you much stupider, and far less of a nuisance."

Sara Sue ground her teeth, fingers aching for a pencil to drive deep into the reality of this man, shutting him up forever.

"And Simon Holmes loved his friends so very much..."

Ongoing Verse: Pay Attention

( Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: Holmes Brothers

( Read more... )

"Oh, I know all about the Holmes boy," the Mayor said airly. "He's loyal as a dog." He grinned, his teeth white and even and blinding. "And when he realises I've taken his little friends, he'll come running like a dog. And then, as usually happens to boys who are loyal and good and true, he'll die like a dog."

Behind a tumble-down veil of hair that she'd thought she was long past wearing, Sara Sue glared hatred. At her side, Dash laughed.

"You're thinking of the wrong brother," he said. "Simon was loyal. Harley? He's just very, very angry."

Ongoing Verse: Holmes Brothers

( Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: Pay Attention

( Read more... )

Simon Holmes sat on the worn but well-padded sofa in the dark and quiet of his early-morning living room, and smiled. Outside, the rain pattered on the windows and the last tendrils of night faded to grey as the mid-winter sun struggled to rise from it's cosy bed. Occasionally the twin beams from a passing car pierced the shadows on the whitewashed ceiling, accompanied by the staticky hum of types on wet asphalt, but otherwise, all was stillness.

These were his favourite moments, alone but not lonely, the silence of a home not empty but only sleeping. A good home.


Ongoing Verse: Microwave

( Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: Holmes Brothers

( Read more... )

The dandelion wine tasted like summer, the sort of summer that Sara Sue had read about in those children's books which had left her sitting, sad and angry, in some secluded corner of the Eerie Library, back when she was Sara Bob and her life was her father's house, her brother's demands, and an almost unbearable need to escape from it all.

"Cheers," said the woman from the Ladies Society for the Beautification of Eerie, raising a glass in one white-gloved hand and clinking it against Sara Sue's own.

"Cheers," said Sara Sue, deciding then and there to sign up.

Ongoing Verse: Janet

( Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: Teller Family History

( Read more... )

Night was falling and the wild flowers that carpeted the gentle rolling slopes at the foot of Wolf Mountain were closing up shop for the night. Mother bluebells dipped deep to kiss their children atop their curving petal heads, wishing them pleasant dreams and a tomorrow full of sunshine and light spring rain. Dandelions with pleasant open faces of vibrant yellow drew hardy greenery about themselves, their expressions closed-off at the coming of sleep.

Only the jasmine remained, white flowers spread wide towards the falling night and the awakening stars. It watched over the silent rows of muted colours, waiting.

Ongoing Verse: Harvest

( Read more... )