Flung Forth


What about earth, did you speak to them?

Oh, the meat things? yes. Leaps and bounds, my friend. Leaps, and also bounds. They have a new thing.

Oh? They’ve stopped being trapped in meat?

Not quite, but they’ve discovered a way to process plants so that they form bricks.

Don’t they have rocks for that still?

They do, but these bricks are a lot lighter. A single person can carry loads of them at once, but when you get them wet and dry them, they form a substance harder than any of their rocks.

That’s great! They can build massive towers, beautiful arching towers that reach the heavens and prove their place in humanity.

Yes. Except they don’t build things from the bricks. They eat them with milk.

Eat them?

They call it weetabix.

Another thousand years, then?

At least.

Flung Forth

Dark Night, White Elephant

It was a dark and dismal morning the day I didn’t arrive at the convention, but I was fairly sure there was something strange going on. For starters,  although it was close to when sunrise should be, there was not a sign the balcony.  I could see the warning lights atop the dome, the flashing hazard lights of the olympic construction site, and the confused flickering of streetlights sure they should be turning off about now.

To the south I could see canary wharf and my first hint that this wasn’t any ordinary mysterious darkness cloaking the capital, because there appeared to be a white elephant sitting in the middle of town.

Now, I live in Hackney, so even from the top of my tower block it would be difficult to see a single elephant, white or otherwise, that far away surrounded by so many buildings, in the eldrich darkness. This elephant made its visibility more obviously apparent by being somewhere between fifty and a hundred metres tall, and glowing softly.

The power in our flat appeared to be out, and my mobile was out of battery. A small amount of time with a wind-up charger later, it informed me that it couldn’t find a cell tower and furthermore searching was why it had no battery. I thanked it for its service, and turned it off.

The block of flats was absolutely silent. No noise save the tramping of my boots as I decended the spiral stairs to the ground floor under the flickering florecence of the emergency lighting. The lobby was dark and empty, the security guard absent from his dark desk, the lifts still and closed, the doors locked shut. My passkey didn’t work, obviously, so I found the fire escape to the rear and clanked though it.

My bike was where I left it, and I started to cycle towards Oxford Circus, where I guessed the prodigious pachyderm posed. Absent the low rumble of traffic – for there were no cars moving on the roads – the silence of the streets lent London something close to a dream-like quality, my only companions in this dark world the occasional pedestrian bundled up against the sudden chill.

I’m not a practiced cyclist; and despite living here for almost four years a lot of my mental geography of London is based on small island districts of streets centralised upon tube stations, pubs or resturants, but once I got close to the centre I started to get the glow of the elephant above the houses and shops to guide my way. I had been a little wrong about the location, and the Elephant was sitting on a pile of rubble where Tottenham Court Road tube station had been until fairly recently. It was huge on a scale that becomes hard to describe, but as it sat in the flattened remains of the shops that would have been on the site it dwarfed the buildings around it. The soft glow that spread from it appeared to come from no specific part of the animal’s giant body, but spread out over the skin. It sat, appearing somewhat dazed, gazing balefully up at the hulking block of concrete that makes up Centre Point, the ugly skyscraper at the foot of Tottenham Court Road. Near the top, lit by the elephant, a huge gaping hole was obvious, as was the new threat of the top half of the building snapping off at any moment.

Even this square was eerily silent where I had expected crowds, people, TV cameras. There was a man in a suit not far from the elephant’s giant foot, and he beckoned me towards him.

“I expected more people”, I said.

“There’s a radio broadcast, people are being told to stay away”.

“Still. People are more curious than this, surely?”

“It was kind of more than a request. It affects most people, but not you.

My name is Benjamin Stack, I work for the govenment.”

“What’s happening?”

“Not sure. Whatever it was, it seems to have crashed”.

“So it does. How did it get here?”, I asked.

The streets were not close to wide enough for the creature to have walked down, and the position of the crash some hundred feet in the air produced the frankly terrifying image of this huge animal somehow flying. Unless someone could demonstrate a magic feather, I was sceptical of this.

“It appears to be attached to the thing blocking the sunlight”.

Ben pointed, and I looked, and from the shoulders and haunches of the dazed beast, I could see a faint outline of silvery thread going up far into the sky. Lent Stack’s binoculars I could see them go as far into the sky as the glow lit them.

When I heard the crash of falling masonry I pulled away from the ropes into the unmagnified world, just in time to see the massive animal stand up. For all that its environment shuddered and crashed, the elephant stood quietly and stayed still for a few moments before curling its giant trunk around one of the cables and pulling decisivly twice.

The ropes tightened, and lifted, and the enormous elephant elevated, drifting upwards slowly and rocking side to side as some of the more powerful winds buffeted him.

“How is that working?” I asked.

“The thing that is blocking the light appears to catch solar winds in some way we don’t understand. We’ve seen them floating around before, usually over less populated areas. This one seems to have come in far too close. It’ll be a light year away by the time anyone else wakes up. Now, if you could come with me, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions…”

I went with Mr Stack, still confused, while bright shafts of sunlight started to appear on the far east horizon, as the elephant’s strange craft left our world. Looking back on it years later I realised it was perfectly natural.

What other way for such a ponderous pale pachyderm to wander the universe…

… than with a white elephant sail?

Flung Forth

Pareidol 012 – Lich

Pareidol 012 - Lich

(This is the last of the batch I created two weeks ago. Monday’s update is entirely dependant on me writing and shooting more scripts. Do you feel lucky?)

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Pareidol – Obligatory Portal Reference

Pareidol 011

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Pareidol – More Bloody Paper Boats

Last paper boat comic for a while, promise.

pareidol 010

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Pareidol – Stamp Collectors

You may have noticed that the numbers on pareidol bare no relationship to the posted order. This is because they’re numbered by when I create them, which will usually be story order, but the pirates mucked that up a bit.

Stamp Collectors

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Pareidol – Pirates 3

Pirates 3

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Pareidol – Pirates 2

Pareidol - Pirates 2

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Pareidol 008 – Pirates 1

You can find the rest of the short first run of Pareidol at Aquarionics, this was going to be the first part of a multipart story, but I didn’t ever finish it. I now have.

Pareidol will update here Monday, Wednesday and Friday for at least the next fortnight, and longer if I keep my buffer at two weeks 🙂

Pareidol 008 - Pirates 1

Flung Forth

Welcome to the Pointed Spike

A Word From Our Owner:

“In the years since I retired from actually hunting the fallen, I have many times wondered why nobody had done this before. A place you can take your date and – should they live though the meal – be entirely sure they are of the living. Our menu is small, but will expand (We have research-chefs working daily. But anyway, Enjoy!”

– Liz Winters


  • Garlic Bread
  • Garlic Salad
  • Pan Con Tomate

Main Courses

  • Steak – (nb. Our steak is cooked with the fat, for a richer flavour. Our doctors remind us that this is not good for your heart)
  • Beef in red wine sauce. – (Made with communion wine)
  • Lemon Chicken – (From a traditional saxon recipe)


  • Garlic Icecream
  • The Buffet Trifle – (Whipped cream, Jelly made with holy water, Communion wafer base)

And after…

  • Coffee – (From consecrated grounds)