In which we meet Jo-Ab, dreadlocked bodhisattva, collector and educator of hitch-hikers and eternal weaver and twanger of the Wyrd. This is an excerpt from Jack Swift and the Burundanga Blues – available now in all good galaxies and wormholes throughout the universe…
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The green bus pulled around the corner, squealing on its wheels like a [...]
This is an excerpt from ‘The Falcon’s Child’, a novel.
We’re about 200 pages in.
Digger Gunn, having moved from the Suffolk countryside of his birth, has come to Edinburgh to find his estranged father. Dazzled by the city, he has all but forgotten his promised mission and his own complex past. He is barely 20 years [...]
In which Jack is humbled and gives away his trident.
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I have surfed the stars and ridden the wind. I have walked between the worlds, been eaten by a bear and swallowed by the turquoise wolf that steps between the molecules of the sky. I have died and been born a thousand times [...]
In which Jack, having fled the city, is reminded of perspective by a skylark and is assailed by visions of Pacha Mama.
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In the morning of that night, I woke from a dream. In the dream, I was taking ayahuasca in the jungles of Peru and I’d met Pacha Mama, the great Earth mother. She [...]
In which we rediscover Jack on the streets of Edinburgh. Since we met him last, Sri and the Bear have passed on, and an Angel is haranguing him. Jack, drunk and disgruntled, is not in the mood for Angels, Bears or Dead Gurus.
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This is a story about the angel. She came and went quickly, [...]
In which Jack hitch-hikes up the East coast of Britain and encounters the denizens of the road, only to become lost in the Services just outside Newcastle
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Hitchhiking is sometimes a joy, and sometimes it is hell. When it is a joy, you can do nothing save simply give thanks. When it is hell, there is [...]
Dark night. Wild wood. The moon howls. Gorse grasps, branch cuts, brier tears. You run and you run and you run. The ground is broken and betrays your feet. Ice grips, frost crackles. But this is not the night of beauty. You are lost. Crows cackle in the dark — this is their midnight. The [...]
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