Posts in Story
Blog Sweet Blog Part 2.5 - Shelf Help

Dan Carpenter lifted the mug to his lips and took another sip of tea. He tried to ignore the blog’s branding on the mug. It was on everything he’d found in the kitchen. Blank Page mugs. Blank Page plates. Blank Page cereal. Blank Page teabags. The Blank Page sink un-blocker had been a surprise.

Please Note - This is the second and a half part of the ongoing social experiment Blog Sweet Blog. There have been two whole parts before this one, neither of which were ever aware they could’ve been split into fractions when they were being written.

Just think how every future part of Blog Sweet Blog will feel from now on. Who can say how many of them will ever arrive a whole? It’s not easy, being a blog.

You could say it’s a blog’s life.

(But we wouldn’t recommend it.)

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The Reluctant Optician

It was a magic trick that very rarely received the applause it deserved. Certainly it wasn’t as flash as some. No ladies were cut in two. No one stepped over a bed of scolding nails or guessed the capital city that someone in another room had written down and sealed in a golden envelope. Still, it was magic none the less. Just of the more everyday variety. Similar to the strain that occasionally left a fiver in a summer jacket pocket.

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Who's Who 19: About the Author

He’d watched too many versions of the same myth. He could spot the seams between the ad breaks now. The recognisable traits. The revolving carousel of non-threatening villains. The shiny fights. The interweaving soap operas. The cameos just for the true geeks, there to invest a marketing exercise with a little purchased history, borrowed as credit for credibility.

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Who's Who 18: Behind the wigs and masks

The large, sleek car pulled up in front of the black iron gates and waited patiently. The engine purred demurely as the expensive, designer barriers responded to a remote control pressed behind those tinted windows. Once they had gracefully reached ninety degrees and come to a complete stop, the car pulled forward, barely raising its voice.

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Who's Who 17: Exit

He stood on his side of the cones, safely away from the roar of the commuting game trail. A cigarette tucked between his cold lips as he watched the traffic bluster past, heading towards the roundabout. Some people were only a junction or some winding country roads away from their employer. Others had motorways to face or trains to converge with. A few went past on their push bikes. Bags over their shoulders. Shoe laces tied loose and a little close to the gears for his liking.

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Who's Who 15: Weathervane

I should be able to hear that old wind chime I picked up at the antique fair. The night this storm hit, I was worried I’d lost it. I couldn’t hear it. I figured the wind had wrecked it. Next morning, it was fine. Every single morning, it’s been fine. No pots blown over either. The bins where I left them too. Every fence panel intact. How is that possible? Listen to it out there. That wind sounds like it should be tearing off roof tiles with its teeth.

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