Free Stories

Free Stories ©

By Michael Casey

I suppose this is a free story until I take it offline and bundle it up with a hundred other stories and publish as part of New Horizons 2018. I have over 120 pages of my next book ready already. If I follow my plan then there could be 500 pages plus in the next book. It’s because nobody wants to pay for content that I sob broken heartedly into my can of Stella Artois.

Now the title really refers to something else, I am in fact talking about how my content, my story ideas come to me. They just seem to be like birdsong or like clouds passing through the sky. You do have to learn to keep your eyes and ears open, but if you do that simple thing then you have loads of story ideas coming your way.

As  I walked up the road on my way to Aldi I see a very fat man struggling to get out of his old past it sports car. It’s like Frank Cannon escaping from a tight pair of underpants, the man had to struggle and struggle to shake the car off him. He was twice my size, and some say I am a right fat old ______.

I continued up the road and you see the Kardasians of my area having their nails painted, though as it’s so cold they are still wearing their fake Artic Anoraks. The nail technicians wear masks like surgeons as they decorate their nails, I think it’s to hide their smiles as they decorate people’s nails.

You should decorate your life and your heart, but that’s just the old fat poet in me speaking. There’s a thought why not print Japanese short poetry on people’s nails, now that would be Clever. Slowly Slowly Climb Mt. Fuji could fit on one hand, beautiful Japanese models will no doubt seize on my idea. I haven’t got any Japanese fans yet. Though I am so fat they may just harpoon me and eat all my blubber.

I continue up the road and have to hold my breath as I overtake smokers in the street, a tiny amount of smoke hurts my chest. Though cigar smoke for some reason is not bad. As I see, hear, and smell things each thing triggers a memory or gives me an idea. My dad never smoked in his entire life, but sometimes over his 2 weeks summer holiday he did smoke. He spent 40 years in a steel works, so I think it may be that his body needed something warm and smoky while he was away from the Furnace and its 400plus degrees.

In passing if ever you have a smoker in your family, and one brother became a smoker while at Cambridge, then look at the ceiling of the smoke room. Our living room had yellowy black gunge on the ceiling, like treacle stuck there. So imagine that stuck to your lungs, by the way John Lennon’s Imagine is about to play on Spotify.

Sometimes you’ll see your own old overcoat walk towards you, somebody fat has claimed it from the Charity shop, so that’s nice, but the new owner of your anorak does not know you are the old owner. The Help The Aged shop has closed down, so your daughters say you’ll have to leave town.

Half heard conversations drift past as you walk further up the street, men standing in the drizzle finishing a fag huddle together for warmth outside the bars. This for some reason reminds me of Ireland and men standing outside the church. I get heckled by the last, the very last of our lodgers, a failed chef but award winning alcoholic.

The one who literally begged my dad for a pound for a pint when my dad was literally on his death bed. So you see I do KNOW about alcoholics, I wish I did not but I do, maybe 40 years experience on that topic, observing all our alcoholic lodgers.

I pop into Aldi for my shopping and get a glowing welcome from not my personal shopper but from my Big Issue friend, she likes the chocolate biscuits I give her for her children. So I get the biscuits first as it’s by the door. I see if I can observe anything as I wonder around. Today I asked a  mature woman in the queue was she a dancer,  and yes she was. Our rhythm, our gait always gives us away. And yes people always ask am I am Sumo.

Then I go home watching all the chip shops and cafes serve all the people as I womble my way back. I get home and unload the shopping before having a drink and pondering how I’ll try and amuse you all today. I look out at the pavement seeing if inspiration will come, then I say to myself I’ll just harvest my walk to Aldi today. So I reap what I have sown. It’s up to you all to decide if I have had a good harvest, or would you prefer the vegan version.