A group of writers in Chichester coming together once a month for inspiration, collaboration and sensation
In the deepest darkest jungles of Peru they found a toad. A toad with almond shaped eyes that swirled with fiery amber, the Hypno Toad, Derren-Brownus Wartus to be exact.
The cage is empty, disappointed the boy presses against the glass.
“Sixty quid for this! Last time I let you decide what to do on your Birthday you maggot!” Bulbous and blotchy, in his anger the man clips the boy roughly round the head. He slumps onto a bench and takes swig from his hip flask. He scratches himself, hands creep to the necklace round his neck and the tarnished wedding ring that matches his own. He promised he wouldn’t drink today. He promised, but he always breaks his promises.
A bunch of kids run past shouting.
“Did you hear the Hypno Toad escaped?”
“Yeah it made the giraffes walk backwards!”
Something small and green hops out from a bush behind the boy’s father. The boy sees it and knows what he must do. Closing his eyes the boy seizes the toad. He taps his father on the arm and thrusts it into his face, hoping his Birthday wish will come true.