Tom Kissack
Bio
I am the author of Jonathan's Tales, told to my son at bedtime, after he gave me a binary subject theme, recorded initially on audio, and transposed to enriched stories thereafter, some 90 plus tales.
Stories (16/0)
The Hammer and the Shoe
The Hammer and the Shoe Tale 11 of Jonathan’s Tales, Volume 1 Once upon a time …. There was a very brave, handsome and adventurous Prince called Rupert. Prince Rupert, lived in the family castle with his father and mother, the reigning King and Queen. Of late, it had been quite a hectic life for our young hero, a truly mixed bag (1) landing on his plate (2). Incorrigible enemies attacking unprovoked, fire spitting dragons to slay, plagues and famines, and of course, the odd pleasurable opportunity to rescue damsels in distress, you get the picture.
By Tom Kissacka day ago in Fiction
The Ox and the Bull
The Ox and the Bull Tale 8 of Jonathan’s Tales, Volume 2. Once upon a time…… There was a celebrated herd of bovine quadrupeds (1). At the head was a Daddy bull and a Mummy bull, King and Queen of the herd. As all King and Queens throughout history cannot fail to admit, they lived very happily, and the crowning glory of this happiness was a Bovine blessing; they had a little son, a gorgeous and very adorable, much-loved heir to their throne, a little white bull. Some observers, and within the herd especially, might offer comment that this was very strange. The King and Queen, that is, having a little white bull, Strange indeed, as principally the breed was actually all jet black, to a fault (2) . Why the little Prince bull was white was everybody’s mystery ? But there was a reason for this and we might at a pinch ( 3) before embarking on the story proper, take a small step to cast aside these inquisitive nosey parkers’ (4) views and enlist the help of Science for explanation. Well, immediately springing to mind (5) is an anatomical term, atavism (6) , yes, atavism was simply at the heart of the mystery, and the true culprit. The reader now knows that long, long ago there was an immensely beautiful, quite sensational herd of white bulls, now sadly extinct, and our little white bull was a one-off ancestral throw back from this time. Aren’t mixing Mummy and Daddy genes fascinating ? A little bit like Russian roulette (7) , but without the endangering bullet, who knows what might pop up ! Now, with this insightful knowledge all nosey inquisitiveness may now be happily put to bed (8), and allow us continue without further ado (9) to take up our rather delightful story, a story that regretfully will soon take a turn for the worse for the herd, and the Royal family in particular.
By Tom Kissack5 days ago in Fiction
The Snowflake and the Rock
The Snowflake and the Rock Jonathan - “He waved his Triton, like this…” Once upon time…….there was a large cottage built on a flat promontory close to cliffs overlooking the sea. The building, which was part of a farm, was the home of a Mummy, Daddy and teenage son. During the Summer months the son and his Daddy often went snorkelling in search of myriad Ocean treasures, sea life in abundance and other bounty from shipwrecks across the ages. One day out snorkelling they happened to see a mermaid (1) on the surface of the sea, idly swimming on her back taking in the sun. The son interrupted his Daddy, pointing out the sea creature, he exclaimed, “Look Daddy !“ Is that a mermaid ?” “I’m not sure son,” the father said doubtfully, being of a sincere practical nature, the existence of mermaids was, in his mind at least, the stuff of myths and fables only. At once, hearing the boy’s voice, the mermaid was alerted to the human danger. The boy ignoring his father’s sceptical reply was terribly excited, and started to swim towards the mermaid, followed hot on his heels (2) by his Daddy, but the mermaid, afraid of any human contact, immediately dived under the waves. Once the two humans reached the spot where the mermaid had been, they dived below the surface, and swimming around in circles under the water both searched in vain, for the clever mermaid had purposefully swum with great speed to the ocean floor, and instantly disappeared. She waited in safety for the humans to leave, confident that an ancient magical path, a golden path linked to the sea palaces of old, had shrouded her in invisibility, even though she was only a few yards from the humans. The humans were about to give up the search when the boy glimpsed what seemed, in the limited sea visibility under the waves, a piece of golden string, leading seaward. Pointing to it, the son surfaced and when the father emerged said , “What’s that golden string ? “ The father replied, “I don’t know, but I’ll take another look.” The man dived back down and appeared again after a space of time, “It looks like a path set with golden stones, how strange ?” Luckily for the mermaid, still hiding from the two snorkelers, the boy was ready to go back home. “Daddy, I’m tired now, can we go back ?” “Yes,” said the Daddy, “but, son, don’t you want a treasure trophy (3) from the golden path we’ve found, it’s just below us now?” The little boy at this prompt dived down and picked one of the rocks up, it was shining brightly and certainly had a golden-like appearance. The boy broke above the waves holding the rock, “Come on Dad. Race you back !”
By Tom Kissackabout a month ago in Fiction
The Glass and the Jumper
The Glass and the Jumper Jonathan - “Dad that’s a good story.” Once upon a time…. several hundred years ago, in a far-off distant land there was a factory that made jumpers, for both general retail and bespoke (1) purposes. A young Prince came to the factory one day, a rather arrogant and pompous man, used to getting his own way. Barging into the reception, full of his own self-importance he barked at the man sitting down, “HERE MY MAN ! I would like the BEST jumper in the world. I’m going to a wedding.” The man sprung up from his seat and eyed the customer, recognising him immediately, knew of his obnoxious repute, and instantly deplored his exaggerated airs and graces (2) , but business was business, and he adopted an attitude obsequious replying, “What your own wedding Sire ?” “No, my brother’s actually, but I want to attract all the girls, so can you make it a magnificent jumper ?” “What price might I ask ?” “Price ? Price ?? Oh, the price doesn’t matter,” said the Prince irritably, “Spare no expense, but mark my words (3), the jumper must contain precious metals, gold and silver, and yes, rubies, beyond those, anything you want. Weave everything in, but make it a special jumper, one FIT for a King !” He then stormed out saying he would expect a communication within the week.
By Tom Kissackabout a month ago in Fiction
The Cactus and the Tree
The Cactus and the Tree Once upon a time ……. There was a cactus aptly called Spike who lived unsurprisingly in the desert, not the most pleasant of localities to call home sweet home, but, alas, beggars can’t be choosers (1)., and although a little rain must fall in all our lives (2), sadly in the desert (3) precious little did for Spike. However, it was not all doom and gloom, as life often has its offsets (4) and for him he was blessed with a true, good friend called Needles. The two had been there, sitting in the desert, for an age, and were, all things being equal (5) quite comfortable, well not just comfortable, rather set in their ways (6), but something was about to happen to turn their world, upside down (7) . One day Spike said out of the blue (8) , “It’s a bit dry, isn’t it !” “Yea, yea, it’s not just dry,” added Needles, “ I’ve been feeling a little bit.. how can I say, unsure about the ground? ” Spike glanced quizzically at his friend, “What d’ y’ mean ?” “Well, don’t you think it’s…. trembling a bit ?” “Trembling ?” queried Spike, “Trembling ? A ground can’t trem…. Oh, I see what you’re saying, you mean the sand is shifting in our desert.” Needles sighed, “No, no, no, no, no, I don’t mean the sand’s shifting, the sand shifts with the wind all the time, I know that, but rather I feel the ground’s trembling in a different way.” After a short pause he continued, “Besides, something else happened.” “What ?” said his friend standing only a yard span from him. “Old Scorpio’s been ‘round when you were sleeping and, I must say, quite in a blind panic (9) . Do you know he announced some absurdity saying, ’We’re done for !’ Spike, let me tell you I’ve previously always see him as a bit of a drama queen (10) and you know, I often try to keep the lid on (11) his, shall I say, excitements. So, duly ignoring him, and getting no reaction from me he repeated more loudly, “ ‘WE’RE Done FOR !’ ”
By Tom Kissackabout a month ago in Fiction
Humpty Dumpty
Humpty Dumpty Jonathan - “He’s going to eat him!” Once upon a time …. There was a very famous egg called Humpty Dumpty, a curiously grumpy egg with little arms and little legs, wearing a very posh waistcoat. Humpty Dumpty used to spend all his days sitting on a wall next to a castle. One day a small girl walked past the castle with her Mummy and noticed the egg rocking precariously back and forth on the wall, dangling his legs, but perfectly happy singing “Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall...” “Mummy, Mummy that looks like Humpty Dumpty !” said the girl pointing to Humpty Dumpty. Her Mummy agreed it looked just like Humpty Dumpty, with his brightly coloured waistcoat. “Mummy ! He’s, he’s going to fall; he’s going to break himself !” “Yes, he will,” said the Mummy patiently, quite unperturbed, well aware of the nursery rhyme associated with this well-known egg. She was happy for things to take their natural course. “But Mummy,” said the girl looking around, “There’s no King’s horses or King’s men. It’s only him and the wall, the castle, it’s too far for anyone to help him. ” “Yes, you’re right, but don't worry, they’ll come when he falls.” The little girl was quite stunned at her mother’s indifference to the imminent fate of this poor egg. She was an imaginative little girl, always believing to help others was a special opportunity, even a gift sent from Heaven. Her gaze was fixated with horror seeing Humpty Dumpty teetering back and forth. She knew the rhyme of Humpty Dumpty off by heart (1), and had often felt a sadness at his fate. The little girl started (2), catching her breath (3) , she knew this was her once in a lifetime opportunity to help poor Humpty Dumpty, to stop the never-ending cycle of breaking, written countless millions of times in nursery rhyme books across the world. Rushing up to the egg she said, “Mummy, Mummy lift me up, I want to save him. We must stop him before he falls.” The Mummy laughed and lifted her daughter up, and she grabbed Humpty Dumpty and put him in her bag she was cradling on her arm. “Oy !!!” shouted Humpty Dumpty poking his head out of the bag angrily, “WHAT are you doing ? I’ve been on that wall falling down for a century. I like jumping off my wall and breaking. What do you think you are doing ?”
By Tom Kissackabout a month ago in Fiction
The Elf and the Watch
The Elf and the Watch Once upon a time ……….a long long way away from most civilisation, actually in the North Pole, Santa was getting ready for his big day, it was Christmas time again. Santa’s helpers, thousands of elves and fairies, had been working tirelessly around the clock, for many many weeks. At last thought Santa, it’s nearly Christmas Eve, when everything comes together. Santa knew there was still much work to do to make Christmas a success, work that must be coordinated like clockwork. To help with all this busy business he relied on his Chief Elf. The Chief Elf was very very important because he had one single job at Christmas. To programme and set in motion a watch and supervise its operations. It was not just any watch, rather a golden magical watch given to him in trust by Santa himself. Every Christmas he performed a sacred duty, programming the watch to direct all the activities leading up to Christmas Day, then monitored everything, ensuring the system was firing on all cylinders (1). And on Christmas Eve, the most special of days, when everything must come together, the watch would chime loudly on Christmas Eve morning, immediately dawn broke. Before the Chief Elf retired to sleep the night before Christmas Eve, he was always so very excited, and practiced the words he would say the next morning in front of a mirror, mouthing them out; in a real sense there was no need, the words had been said a thousand times before, but he took his duties extremely seriously, until sleep took his mind to different things, dreams of a time to rest and recuperate, a time for holidays in the sun. And so it was, Christmas Eve came with the watch chiming loudly, ringing all around Santa’s grotto and the Christmas factory. The Chief Elf immediately leapt out of bed and boomed with his rallying cry, “RIGHT !” he shouted across the internal tannoy, “ACTION STATIONS ! Let’s help Santa Claus deliver the BEST Christmas EVER !”
By Tom Kissackabout a month ago in Fiction
The Water and the Ice
The Water and the Ice Jonathan - “Yes, and penguins are supposed to be cold.” Once upon a time ………there was a huge expanse of water, a big ocean situated at the South Pole, the posh, geographical term being Antarctica. The ocean was part of the arctic cap not only hosting majestic icebergs, but diligently keeping company with frozen wastelands stretching for miles and miles. The Water was very cold and icy, it had been like this for thousands of years. One day the Water said to an Iceberg, his best friend, the largest iceberg around, “It’s getting a bit warmer you know.” “Yes, I know,” said the Iceberg “I’m actually a bit shocked, I did not mention it. One of my cliffs broke away yesterday and it’s floating up North.” The Iceberg had little idea what the North was, but had heard the Water mention it sometimes, and knew the general direction. “Oh dear,” said the aqua, who, unknown to the Iceberg, was steeped in ancient wisdom and knowledge, sourced from countless conversations with fellow oceans and seas across the world that through time immemorial, visited him in waves upon waves. “To be honest, you are really water you know Iceberg, like me, but you are cold, so cold that you have become ice. “ “I know I am,” replied the Iceberg, ”but I’m definitely quite worried about my cliffside.” “Why ?” asked the Water “Well, I’m very fond of it, it’s been part of me I can say forever, I feel a little less without it, bare, exposed, almost naked on one side.” The Iceberg’s concern did not end there, “Even more, I could lose another cliff face on the other side, if this weather gets any warmer!“ The Water could offer no comfort to the Iceberg for, like him, he was very worried at this strange and unprecedented temperature increase, an increase that had never happened before. But was that true ? Unusually, in this instance, the Water had forgotten past times, when actually the temperature on earth had increased, many thousands of years ago, but that was too long in the past for him to recall. There had been too much water under the bridge (1), so to speak.
By Tom Kissackabout a month ago in Fiction
