Tales from Three Corners Jacq

Sneaking past the blue bike in the laundry was the hardest. Everything was crammed in so tight it was hard to manoeuvre. Produced by Postie, photo by Leandro Boogalu.

It smelt of dust, stale air and old memories. The sun light filtered through the window as the motes flew around the room in the wake of his footsteps. Once it was empty, a room of promises; a study, a nursery, a sewing room, guestroom and now... Storage. Produced by Postie, photo by Pexels.

Mr MacGregor saw the unfolding of the Big Bank Robbery as he shuffled down the street. It was another hot day, the ground baked and the air dripped, and his town clothes were now coated in a fine layer of dust from the roadside. Produced by Postie, image by Ray Marsh from Pixabay

Every time he climbs the stairs, she sees that he looks in. Is it a reflex? Is it curiosity? Is it a little more sinister? The stairs run along her loungeroom windows, so many people walking up to the top flats do peep in, then realise what they’re doing and look away quickly. Embarrassed. Produced by Postie, photo by Niels Hunnersen.

For six months he caught the bus in to work. In those six months only two people returned his greeting. Two. Apart from the bus drivers, who always said hello, shared a joke, commiserated on a sporting team’s loss. Produced by Postie, voiced by the Franklin Frosties, and photo from Pexels.

He liked to think of himself as the Bard of the Backyard. The Shakespeare of the streets, the voice to the voiceless and the antidote to the dope of the wires. Produced by Postie, photo by ShonEjai.