Gary's Massive Head Shouting Forever — Part One
By Kieran McCaffrey
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Happy New Story Sunday, Daily Tomorrow readers! This week, we have a hugely cerebral story, straight from the immense brain of Kieran McCaffrey, Scotland’s newest great master of the form. I hope it blows your mind. —The Editor
Gary's Massive Head Shouting Forever
By Kieran McCaffrey
Gary steps into his open-plan living area and finds his own head staring back at him, but massive, blown up so huge the kitchen island and all four stools are lost to its insides.
The apartment’s in an old school building with high ceilings. Gary looks up. Yep, on it goes.
He swears, runs a hand through his hair. Nobody should see their face this big. What’s worse is he’s been captured in a fury, mid-shout, the cheeks in high colour and eyes squeezed shut. Gary can see right into his own mouth. It’s not great. He should go to the dentist more. Invest in a tongue scrubber.
The image is so startling it takes him a moment to wonder why this has happened. It’s Fajar, is why. His wife. She’s gone mad.
Gary steps round the side of it. Good god, his ear hole’s an actual hell hole. All that hair. Is this what Fajar sees when she looks at him? Ear hair and wrath?
They had a blazing row last night, before she left the safety of New Ayr’s dome for an overnight on the space station. She’s meeting potential employers happy to wormhole in but unwilling to travel the last few miles to the surface. Gary’s pretty sure he’s looking at that row, at a moment from it—precisely, the moment he lost his rag and screeched FOUR GENERATIONS! at her.
She must have filmed the whole thing, must have converted it to 3D after he’d gone to bed in a huff then installed projectors in the ceiling to display it. Huh. How did she even have time?
Gary looks up, finds three little black dots way up there, solid light fanning out from them. Fajar works as an acrobat, has no fear of heights. Gary, quite the opposite. She’s absolutely done him here.
He finds his phone and calls her, but of course she doesn’t answer. He taps out a message—Are you fucking kidding with this shit?—but it elicits no response.
A sudden thought occurs, plunges through Gary like a sword. He races to her wardrobe, flings it open.
Kieran McCaffrey lives in the west of Scotland and writes stories and music and captions for the telly. His work has appeared in State Of Matter and has been shortlisted for the 2025 Cymera Prize. Find him at kieranm.bsky.social.
Copyright © 2025 Kieran McCaffrey