#110. Why Stories Matter (and Why King Arthur Still Matters)

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Hello imaginative people. I’m Anna Tizard and this is episode 110 of Brainstoryum.
 
I have been on holiday this last week in Winchester, so today’s show is going to be slightly shorter, because I haven’t had time to do the second round of story brainstorms where I roll the 12-sided dice: it’s just been impossible to fit it in. But everything else will be as per usual: three bizarre rounds of Exquisite Corpse in which some curious story ideas will emerge; some amazing short fiction from my listeners, and some publishing opportunities. But first, I want to share with you some fascinating stuff about where I’ve been this last week and its connections with Arthurian legends.
 
I found out that Winchester was once, would you believe, England’s capital city, in the year 927, which was when England was formed: when all the separate, tribal kingdoms were united into one nation. Winchester is a small cathedral city with a lot of history—and stories—packed into it. Everywhere we went, there were layers upon layers of history, especially in the cathedral where we spent quite a lot of time not just because it was a heatwave reaching 37 degrees. (As a building made from large stones with a bit of a damp problem in the crypt, since it was built on a flood plain the Saxons believed was sacred—so that’s where the Normans began to build in 1079—it was a pretty cool place to be, in both senses of the word.)
 
And while I’m not that familiar with the legends of King Arthur, I had to go and visit Arthur’s Round Table, a huge wooden table now fixed to the wall of the Great Hall, which is the last remaining part of Winchester Castle after its destruction in the civil war of the mid-1600s.
 
It turns out that, no, sadly, this is not proof of King Arthur’s existence at all, it’s not actually “his” table. It was commissioned by King Edward I in the 1200s, either for a knighting ceremony or a royal tournament, either event requiring feasts and therefore a nice big table. Edward and his wife, Queen Eleanor were both keen readers of Arthurian romance, and with the image of a king painted on this huge table, which is made of up segments, if you can imagine that, it’s quite possible (I was assured by a historian) that they would pretend to be Arthur and Guinevere, and their other friends and courtiers would be the “knights of the round table” as the legend goes.
 
What I love about this, is how it proves the enduring love we have of stories, and how vital they are, and have been, through the ages. In the days long before TV and novels, though there were some written stories, storytelling was most often an oral art or a piece of theatre, and sometimes just a fun game to be played out with friends with or without large quantities of mead.
 
But not only that, the “sensible” reason for the Round Table is that Edward wanted people to associate him with the already legendary King Arthur. (To give you a bit of context, the first mention found of Arthur is in some sixth century Welsh writings, so that’s several hundred years before Edward: Arthur was already a myth.) Arthur was thought to be the ultimate chivalrous king, so by getting people to associate Edward with the great legend of the stories that everyone loved, he had more sway to exercise his power without excessive violence (possibly), and he did make some big changes to English law, in fact, he introduced juries in trials. Okay, so they would have been just a bunch of his mates at the time, all pretty biased, but this was the beginning of a better justice system, and moving towards fairer trials, as early as the 1300s.
 
Am I disappointed that the Round Table wasn’t actually Arthur’s, and turned out to be just part of a story?
 
A bit, but…
 
Stories matter. We should write good ones. And the ones that resonate—or the elements of them that resonate—do so, because they are relatable. They say something about us that we might not otherwise be able to say. They give us something to celebrate, and to anticipate what may be possible in our real lives in some sense. Like overcoming an obstacle or problem that seems impossible to deal with; to remember to feel wonder, and the faith that there is more to life, when things are really hard going.
 
Next time, which will be the 111th, or eleventy-first episode (for those Tolkien fans), I’ll talk a bit about the dragons I saw in Winchester (‘cos there were quite a lot of them, I have to say).
 
**
While I was away, my inbox filled up with some brilliant creations from listeners.
 
Mark West wrote a short story based on “The Weird Lollipop Lady” more specifically:
 
Black Shuck ignored the Weird Lollipop Lady. (If you’ll remember from the show, the Black Shuck is a ghost dog said to roam the coast of East Anglia, and it came out of the Socks of Destiny in the last show as the “mangled Black Shuck”. Also, to note in case you are outside of the UK and don’t know what a lollipop lady is, this is a traffic guard or warden who has a lollipop-shaped sign to stop the traffic for children to cross during the school run.)

“She was known as the Weird Lollipop Lady because she treated everyone exactly the same ~
Schoolchildren, bishops, ghosts, and on one memorable occasion, Death himself.

This was unusual.

Most people obeyed her immediately.

"Wait," she said, raising her sign.

Black Shuck, being a legendary spectral hound and omen of doom, considered itself above road safety advice.

It stepped into the road.

A Ford Fiesta introduced itself.

The encounter was brief.

Black Shuck became mangled.

Several weeks later, the Weird Lollipop Lady found the creature in a hospital bed wearing a neck brace and an expression of deep embarrassment.

"I wish to make a claim," said Black Shuck.

"Against whom?"

"The Fiesta."

"You can't sue a car."

"The driver, then."

The Weird Lollipop Lady sighed and rolled a sheet of paper into her typewriter.

For months she worked on the manuscript.

It grew to hundreds of pages.

There were witness statements, diagrams, and lengthy arguments concerning supernatural hounds and the Green Cross Code.

At last, she placed the completed manuscript beside Black Shuck.

"There," she said. "Everything is included."

Black Shuck glanced at the title page.

Black Shuck v. Derek Simmons

"Excellent," it said.

The claim eventually failed.

The judge ruled that ancient omens of death should know better than ignore a lollipop lady.

Nobody disagreed.

Except Black Shuck, who took some comfort from the no-win, no-fee arrangement.”
 
I love this bizarre clash of modern and ancient-mythological. It feels quite Winchester, actually: like walking past a one-thousand year old door that has an electronic security keypad next to it (which I saw a couple of times). But this story is a curious combination, in fact, I can’t help but want to know more about this lollipop lady who has so much authority and seems unconcerned by death and ghosts.
 
Thank you, Mark. You can find Mark on X as 2112Westy.
 
Paul Monteith also known as quantumfairy wrote:
 
Lollipop Lady and The Black Shuck (which also features Death as a character):
 
“A man and a dog stood at a curb. "You're the Omen of Death, Shuck. Not death itself. That's my job."

"Sorry, Master, I startled the lollipop lady, and she froze in the path of oncoming traffic."

DEATH lightly pressed his thumb to Ms Lollipop's wrist in search of a pulse. "She gone?" asked Shuck.

"Yes. We must read her her rights, or she may sue us for a wrongful and untimely death."

"You have the right to remain silent, Ms Lollipop," recited Shuck. Ms Lollipop, on account of her untimely passing, did in fact remain silent while her rights were listed. "We done?" the dog asked.

"No. We must now record her life as it passes before her eyes and write her words down in The Book Of The Dead." DEATH handed Shuck the book and a pen. "I will briefly revive her with a pinch of soul, and you, Shuck, will record the moments of her passing life as she tells it."

"She doesn't have eyes," the dog remarked. "They were ejected from her sockets upon impact."

"I carry a pinch of soul and an extra pair of eyes for moments like these," DEATH said and dropped a soul-pinch into Ms Lollipop's mouth and pressed repurposed eyes into her sockets.

Ms Lollipop gasped. "I see someone's life, but not mine."

"Oh dear," DEATH remarked. "She is seeing the passing memories of the eye's previous owner. I forgot to do a factory reset on the repurposed optics."”


Oh wow. This is an awkward situation. It rounds off neatly as a short story, but I can’t help but wonder what else might emerge from this situation. The idea of the lollipop woman being possessed is something that came up as a possibility in the story brainstorms, but this is a whole new direction, if she is remembering somebody else’s life. Intriguing.
 
Thank you, Paul Monteith. Paul writes fantasy and scifi, and you can find him on Bluesky as quantumfairy
 
Sean aka BlueWizardFax on X wrote:
 
“The bloodthirsty circle ate the broken wallaby,” an Exquisite Corpse that came up in episode 108.
 
“Kathleen Campbell slipped quietly into the house from the garage. It had been a hell of a day and she knew she would need to brace herself for her family's curiosity. She hung her long coat in the mudroom, hung her keys on their peg, and dropped her badge on the counter as she entered the kitchen. The slight sound of leather on formica was enough to cue her youngest.

"Hi Mommy! Hey, Mommy's home!" Betsy chirped as she rushed into the room and threw herself about Kathleen's waist. Jordan appeared in the doorway, her dad right beside her, and they watched as Betsy was carefully pried off, hugged close, and kissed on the forehead.

"Hey ev'ryone, yeah, I'm home," Kathleen said. "Were you having dinner?"

Bill nodded. "Sandwiches in front of the tv. Watching the news...they're playing the news conference about this afternoon. As bad as they've been implying, I take it?"

"Worse. We've been trying to keep it under wraps for as long as we could."

"The Circle again?"

Kathleen sighed and stepped past her daughters to hold Bill close and lean into her husband's chest. "They're savages. Just complete bloodthirsty savages." She closed her eyes and tried to keep her composure while the girls were there. It wasn't easy since her mind kept picturing the crime scene. He motioned the kids to go back to the tv.

"You remember Cary Lodge?"

"The Wallaby? Yeah, I thought he retired."

"He is now," Kathleen whispered. "They ate him."”

Yikes! This is the beginning of a very dark piece, a mystery. What is this Circle with a capital C? A cult? Or something more fantasy-oriented, like creatures, shape-shifters, monsters…
 
Thankyou for sharing this scene with us, Sean. You can find Sean on X as BlueWizardFax.

Right, it is time once more delve into the undiscovered mysteries that dwell within the Socks of Destiny.

**
SOCKS OF DESTINY ORGAN JINGLE
 
This part of the show is un-transpose-able! There's much giggling and rustling of paper as I pull words at random from the Socks of Destiny to create three unique sentences according to the rules of Exquisite Corpse, going: “Describing word—noun—action—describing word—noun.” Today’s resulting sentences are:
 
1. The jingling dog groomer blew through the monotonous exorcist.
2. The quiet-as-a-mouse dung heap despised conformity and yearned for the sunburned princess.
3. The buzzing jack-in-the-box shed their skin to reveal the dripping pitter patter of rain.
 
**
 
Right, so now we move on to some opportunities to get your stories out there. I found two very unusual and enticing projects underway by JayHenge Publishing.
 
First, they’re looking for speculative fiction stories for The Midnight Menagerie at the Edge of Everywhen, an anthology centered on a mysterious traveling night circus, menagerie, fair, theatre, or wandering collection of wonders. It might arrive by moonlit caravan, phantom train, dimensional doorway, dream-path, curse, invitation, or accident, and it may appear in sleepy villages, neon cities, ruined kingdoms, haunted forests, distant planets, or worlds that were never meant to touch. They welcome stories in a range of genres including fantasy, science fiction, horror, and so on, provided the story has atmosphere, wonder and strangeness, with a strong connection to the travelling spectacle at its heart.
They say, “Send us your stories because the circus is in town.”
 
Their other open call invites writers to set sail for the extraordinary. Inspired by the adventurous spirit of Jules Verne, they’re looking for tales of ingenious inventions, daring journeys, scientific marvels, and unforgettable discoveries, with stories that celebrate curiosity, exploration, and the thrill of the unknown.

From submarine voyages and aerial expeditions to hidden worlds and impossible machines, they want narratives filled with momentum, wonder, and imagination. Peril may lurk, but this anthology leans towards adventure rather than despair, and discovery over dread.
 
For both anthologies, they pay $5 (USD) per 1K words and will accept anything from flash fiction length up to 12K words. These submission windows are open until filled.
 
For more information on both call-outs, go to jayhenge.com.
 
As you know, I don’t know these publishers, I’m only sharing what I’ve found in the wilds of the internet. Whoever you choose to submit to, always run a check on Google for reviews and comments, and read the terms and conditions of publication to ensure they suit you.
 
Right, I hope that’s enough to get your creative juices flowing, and don’t forget to come back for dragon-related things in the eleventy-first episode.
 
Until next time, go forth and be inspired!