#pictonauts

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Fukushima Flowers

August’s Son of Pictonaut effort ended up being very “stream of consciousness” on my part, as I mashed together bits and pieces as I wiki stumbled down a rabbit hole from Fukushima’s Wikipedia entry. As bizarre as it might sound, I actively encourage you to google snippets of the story as you encounter them and see how everything fits together. Or don’t. I’m not a cop. Japan Apocalypse DDC 4677…

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The Thing That Happened to Katherine

This month’s son of pictonaut exists soley because I wanted to write one line of dialogue, but first needed to do all the preamble before I could get to it. It’s 3 days late becasue deadlines are for cowards and fools. Continue reading Untitled

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Rubicon

This month’s “Son of Pictonaut” very nearly didn’t happen, devoid of inspiration I was conent to let it pass me by. At least until I was seized by an idea 3 days after the end of March. This month’s image was “Person Going Through a Broken Wire Fence” by Zachary DeBottis on Pexels. On some level I felt a bit like I was channelling John Darnielle. Not necessarily in terms of style, but more in…

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The Wanderer

At lot of things have happened since the last post I made here, back at the arse end of 2016. I had a small nervous breakdown, my dad died, I bought a house, I got married. But one thing that there hasn’t been a lot of is writing. At least not fiction. I’ve got a short story of about five and a half thousand words that I started in the wake of my father’s death from what I have been quanitly…

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September's Pictonaut Challenge

So September is here. September; the year of our lord two thousand and fourteen. Today sees the beginning of the 37th monthly Pictonaut Challenge. The mathematically inclined among you should no doubt realise that 37 divided by 12 is 3.083. Three and a bit. Which means that the Pictonaut Challenge is entering its fourth year. It’s all a little hard to take in. I expected to run it for a couple of…

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April's Pictonaut Challenge

I sit here in a shattered throne of synthetic leather. The inside of my mouth tastes like something has recently died in it, only to be brought back from beyond the veil that hides that undiscovered country, only to then die again. Judging by taste alone this has probably happened many, many times. I sit here in a shattered throne of grey foam. My hip is still assailed by a strange and nebulous…

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