Friday Fictioneers: The Enigma of Sigfig

P NewYear, i’ve been away learning how to deconstruct my mind, emptying it of all the things I knew from the past 23 years of doing cool stuff outside, so hence i’ve been absent and aloof, thank goodness for Rochelle who is still here, holding the fort and being super cool under the pressure of everything. So Thanks to Roger Bultot for the photo, pretty grim it has to be said. Think I’ve got just the ticket. So…

On My Marks…

Get Set…


Sigfig was a filthy soul. He wandered the dark alleyways sheltering in bins during the winter but slept in the parks and gardens in the summer.

If you saw Sigfig you probably wouldn’t see much else afterwards; he had a fondness for sinew and tendons with which he flossed his teeth.


He found a deserted basement and decided to move in, with his plastic bag of meagre tatty possessions; a child’s book, a pair of threadbare children’s mittens, lots of rubber bands and a worn photo of two folks and a child.

Sigfig was also terribly glum and sadly discombobulated.

There we are, the sad tale of Sigfig, all in 100 words, I’ll let you make up your mind as to his singularities…


    • Thats what I’m thinking, a dirty man, living rough for the most part, possibly due to a tragedy in a past life. I watched a Miriam Margoyles programme a few nights back and she was in Australia asking people about class, she spoke to a homeless man about the path which led him there, and sadly it was through a mental breakdown, having been a university genius and chemist extraordinaire, but was now sleeping rough. The book should never be judged by its cover I think. Thanks for reading


  1. Chilling how if you see him only… So creepy! Reminds me of Jethro Tull’s song, “Aqualung.” “spitting out pieces of his broken luck” (and other unsavory things.) Maybe he will have better luck in his next incarnation. Good storytelling, Shrawl!

    Liked by 1 person

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