Author: Alexander Fawn

He became frustrated because his doctor didn’t seem to be fixing his problems.

When he got home that evening, in a desperate state, he sat down in front of his computer screen. He began to search for alternate medicine sites. He found quite a number and was surprised to find one in his home town. It was a natural healing shop that only saw patients for a consultation who had made a phone booking. He did this and a week later he attended his appointment. It was only a small shop that mainly sold herbal remedies. The young girl at the front desk checked the appointment book then ushered him through to a room at the back. It was a pokey little room, just room enough for a desk and two chairs.

However, the thing that immediately caught his eye was the beautiful splash of colour on one wall. It was a mandala. He had always been fascinated by these, with their intricate geometric configurations. This one was particularly captivating with its radiating red and blue leaf-like construction. It hung on the wall behind her.

The old woman at the desk asked him to sit down and explain why he had come to see her. He had a job keeping his eyes off the art piece, but he nevertheless managed to give the woman a detailed account of his conditions. There were two things that troubled him the most, a constant ringing in his ears and early hair loss. The old lady cackled a little and told him that would be easy to fix. She had a tablet for each of the ailments and explained that they were very fast acting medications and needed to be taken one week apart.

Shaken from his reverie, he was surprised to find the old lady’s wrinkled hand being thrust at him. She was holding two tablets. She explained that the pink one was for the ringing in his ears and the orange one was for his hair loss. He was told to pay the girl at the front desk on his way out. Taking one last look at the mandala, he thanked her and left the room. He paid the girl at the front. It wasn’t cheap, but it was dawning on him that if the old woman was right, his problems were about to be fixed.

When he got home, now in a pretty excited state of anticipation, he filled a glass with water and sat down at the kitchen table. He carefully placed the two tablets, side by side in front of him. One of them would fix his hair problem and the other the horrible ringing in his ears. He asked himself which of these did he want to put right first? He felt there was little in it. Then it dawned on him that he had no idea which tablet did what! He couldn’t remember. He simply hadn’t paid attention. Well, he thought, I want them both fixed, don’t I? So, he scooped them up and swallowed both at once with the glass of water.

In that moment, the ringing in his ears grew very loud and all his hair fell out!

She always enjoyed her morning medication.

She went to the cupboard and conscientiously took the box down and placed it on the kitchen table. At the tap she filled a glass with water. Sitting at the table, she carefully opened the container.

A pill for maintaining optimum blood pressure, a pill for infection control, a pill for weight control, a pill for better sleep, a pill for better self-control, a pill for the alleviation of stress, a pill for stronger motivation, a pill for greater patience, a pill for better listening skills, a pill for good judgment, a pill for improved creative thinking, and a pill for the eradication of toxins.

A pill for improved goal setting, a pill for greater self-awareness, a pill for increased empathy, a pill for improved social skills, a pill for improved flexibility, a pill for improved problem-solving, a pill for easier decision making, a pill for better conflict resolution, a pill for stronger self-discipline, a pill for good judgment, a pill for moral rectitude, and a pill for greater calmness.

She swallowed it and washed it down with water.

Sighing with satisfaction, she said, “How good is that? All that in the one pill!”

She sat in her car, not wanting to go home.

Although the young woman had left the office later than usual, she had barely got halfway across town, when she pulled over. Now, she was running through the familiar and predictable upcoming events in her head. They had all happened before; many times. It didn’t matter that she was running late. She could sit here for as long as she liked. She’d be home long before him. It was his so-called darts-team night. He’d go straight to the pub and start drinking from the moment he arrived. He will play darts and drink for an hour or so, then come home drunk, he’d start an argument, and he’d get angry…

With a jolt, it came to her that she’d been sitting there for an age, when the blue flashing light in her rear vision mirror brought her out of her unhappy reverie. She watched as a policeman climbed out of the vehicle and slowly walked towards her. He walked a short distance past and pointed up at a no standing sign right in front of her, then strolled back and leaned in.

“Sorry Miss, you need to move on.”

She looked up smiling. “Yes, of course,” she said, and quickly pulled out into the main road.

She was still smiling when she whispered to herself, “What a good idea!”

It happened the day his old friend called in for a quick visit.

The man used to be a neighbour before he moved away. They hadn’t seen each other for a while, so after a call to let the man know he was in the area, he made his way back to where he used to live. He was met at the door and shown in. When his visitor walked into his friend’s lounge, he froze. He stood staring at the huge art piece that filled the corner of the room.

“Wow!” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like that!” He stepped a few paces closer. Obviously impressed and with a look of amazement, he turned to his friend and said, “If you don’t mind me asking, who made that?”

The other proudly replied, “It’s by a local artist.”

“However did you come across them?”

The other smiled. “As it happens, my neighbour’s son…”

 “Your neighbour’s son? He did this?” His friend blurted.

The owner shook his head. “No. My neighbour’s son works backstage as a sound technician for the state orchestra. He and the second cellist were recently engaged. She has a cousin who works for the man who manages the bakery in the high street. His brother-in-law, the baker’s, not the manager’s, often does casual work as a roadie for a local pop group. They were performing in a club when he met the woman who runs the local estate agency. She had met the artist while she was on holiday in Ibiza.

She happened to be in the same dentist’s waiting room when we got chatting. By chance, she still had one of his business cards. It was she that told me about this local artist. She recommended him.”

He smiled again.

“He did it!”

There is wonder in the void,

The vastness of it, daunting.

There is mystery in the void,

The conjured image, haunting.

–

Its existence in the universe

Or deep within the brain,

Seen as something missing,

Shows neither loss nor gain.

–

It is neither dark nor empty,

No colour, weight or heat.

A glimpse of comprehension

Shows a nothingness complete.

–

A space full of absence,

Its parameters hard to frame.

It is both within and without,

They are but one and the same.

–

Seen as two quite separate states,

For ease we divide it.

The only way to see it all

Is to huddle up beside it.

There had always been a suspicion that he was being unfaithful.

He promised her that he’d changed his ways when she agreed to let him move in with her. It all went along quite well until she came to do the weekly wash. She was checking pockets before loading the washing machine when she found a piece of paper. It said, Bella – 8:30. After promising her that he was a new man and wouldn’t stray again, he was obviously seeing someone. In the hours between finding the note in the morning and his getting home from work that day, she worked herself up to the point where she wanted to throw him out. In fact, the moment he walked through the door she handed him the note.

“Who is she? You promised!” she blurted.

He took the note with a frown. After reading it, he began to chuckle.

“This is nothing to laugh at!” she shouted.

He shook his head. “Calm down, will you. The guy in the office gave me this. It’s just a tip.”

She calmed a bit, and said, “What kind of tip?”

He grinned at her. “Silly! It’s a racing tip. That’s the name of a greyhound and the race time.”

She sighed and started weeping. He held her for a while. She apologised and said she was sorry for not trusting him. He said he wouldn’t do anything that came between them. He explained that their happiness meant a great deal to him. They both agreed to put the whole thing behind them.

On the following day, he arrived home to find all of his belongings piled up against the front wall. On top was a note pinned to a piece of clothing.

It read: Your greyhound rang and I informed her that you no longer live here.

He was admired by many for his passion for learning and his long hours of study.

He was coming to the end of his second year at university where he was taking a master’s degree in Applied Positive Psychology, with a special interest in methods of discovering the nature of happiness and how happiness itself makes people thrive. He spent a good deal of time outside of regular university study hours to meet up with volunteers, who would contribute to his happiness studies. These were people willing to discuss their own personal experiences regarding the things that made them happy.

He usually met his subjects at a bar or in a café where they could spend time in private discussion. He kept a simple, unobtrusive, spiral bound notebook for the purpose of taking notes. It would be back in his flat the he would type them up and file them, as part of his study project. The files he was building would be the backbone of his final thesis. They contained a most varied and comprehensive catalogue of what above all made people happy. Most of his contacts spoke quite openly about what made them happy, while others had a more difficult time of it. Much of these cases caused embarrassment as there was a great deal of shame attached to what made them happy. He was totally non-judgemental with what he was told and his assurance of anonymity helped to ease the humiliation.

Finally, his thesis was submitted, gaining excellent marks, and his degree was bestowed. In the months that followed, he made no immediate efforts to find employment using his newly awarded qualification. Instead, he concentrated on a system that would provide a steady income as time went on. Over a period of two years he had gathered a sufficient number of future clients. From these, he carefully selected a number of them that would receive simple instructions on how to avoid exposure…

He was just doing his job when he heard it.

The plumber from the hospital’s maintenance department had fixed the tap and was walking back through the ward when he heard the groans. He stopped and looked in. An orderly was adjusting a patient’s elevated leg. It was raised up at a forty-five degree angle and covered with plaster. The patient was obviously in a lot of pain. He just stood there watching for a moment when the orderly looked up and grimaced. He came out and joined him in the hall.

The plumber nodded at the man in the bed, saying, “Looks nasty.”

“It is.” He lowered his voice, “Poor guy. He suffers from Pica.”

“What the hell’s that?”

“It’s a psychological condition. My mate’s kid had it when he was young. I’m no expert of course, but it’s a compulsive eating disorder.”

He looked back in at the leg. “What kind of disorder?”

“People like him eat things that aren’t food.”

The other looked surprised. “What sort of things?”

“Dirt and clay mostly, but it can be a whole lot of other stuff in some cases.”

“Other stuff?”

“Yep. Chalk, string, cloth, charcoal, even pebbles and rocks.”

“Wow!”

“Right! This case is pretty sad. It’s mainly something kids go through, but sometimes it carries through into adulthood.”

The plumber looked into the room again. “OK, but if it’s psychological,” he said, “why is he in a hospital bed?”

“Oh! I see what you mean. It seems he was on an overseas holiday when it happened. He was biting the ear off a sandstone statue in the town square.”

“Sandstone? You said some patients have been known to eat pebbles and rocks. Sandstone’s not so bad, is it?”

The orderly shrugged. “The statue was on a plinth; he fell from a height of over eight metres. That’s how he broke his leg.”

It was an ongoing issue for him.

She was forever coming to his rescue whenever they were socialising. Of course, she meant well, being protective and all that, but she did it so often. Too often! It had been going on so long. Finally, after an evening out with their friends, they returned home with him thinking he would have to broach the subject once and for all. He knew he had to speak up. He had no way of knowing how she would take it. After all, she was probably not aware that she was doing it. They had been home awhile and he considered they were sufficiently relaxed for him to bring the subject up.

“Honey,” he started, “I don’t know how aware of it you are, but you are forever saving me.”

She looked confused. “Saving?”

“Yes, you know, coming to my rescue when in fact I don’t really need it.”

Her eyebrows raised.

He took a deep breath and went on. “You really don’t have to protect me all the time.”

Going back to a frown, she said, “Do I do that?”

He smiled. “Yes, my love, you do. I mean, you’re like an umbrella.”

She went to speak, but he went on, “It’s wonderful to have an umbrella when you need it, but your umbrella…”

Her head wiggled. “My umbrella?”

“Yes, your umbrella. It’s, well… it’s like one of those that has a button you can press that makes it open immediately. With just a quick press of the button it automatically pops up. It’s really handy for emergencies.”

She sat listening, with a look of uncertainty.

He continued. “The fact is… well, your umbrella has a faulty button and it pops up unexpectedly. When you don’t really need it. If you see what I mean.”

She sat thinking.

He smiled lovingly at her. “However, I should point out that apart from the faulty button, it’s a really beautiful umbrella…”

You might call him the suspicious type, most did.

He was always on the lookout for problems, errors, hazards and the like. Despite what others thought, his feelings had paid him dividends a couple of times. He never expected others to understand. However, such thoughts weren’t in his mind as he drove into town in search of a new car. He was excited; he had been planning this trip for several months. He already knew as much as he could about the vehicle he was going to test drive. It was getting rave reviews on the net. A revolutionary car, new on the market. Despite its relative cheapness, the main feature was the introduction of a radically different fuel injection system. It was much simpler than anything car manufacturers had developed before, and far more efficient. He had come to the conclusion that it was this feature that brought the price down.

Meanwhile, two towns to the south, a young car enthusiast was washing this exact same model on his front lawn. It was less than a week old and his pride and joy. He too had been counting the days before they came on the market. Unlike the man to the north, he did know a fair bit about the internal combustion engine, being a recently qualified car mechanic. Understanding that the fuel injection system is made up of a low and a high pressure component. He could see that by using a high pressure system that included the fuel tank meant that the manufactures could do away with the need for a fuel supply pump altogether. It was simple, high pressure from tank to injector nozzle. Today was going to be a full-on test for this new technology. When it was washed, he’d let it stand in the wind to dry. He would also leave it ticking over, so that the engine was fully warmed up prior to him putting it through its paces.

Meanwhile, two towns to the north, the man parked and entered the show room. It didn’t take long to arrange a test drive. It handled beautifully. After having his current vehicle checked, he was offered a generous trade-in. His mind was made up. Back in the office they began working through the inevitable paperwork.

Meanwhile, two towns to the south, the young car enthusiast was looking for his new driving gloves when he heard the explosion. It was an enormous blast. Although the house was set back some distance from the front lawn, several windows were blown into the front rooms. Looking out, he saw that the car was a great ball of fire with a huge plume of thick, black smoke rising up and being swept away by the wind. Within only a minute or two the ash-filled trail of smoke had travelled way out of sight.

Meanwhile, two towns to the north, the man who was about to purchase his dream car was standing in the car lot walking around, admiring it, waiting for the final documents. He came prepared to pay by cheque. They were happy to let him drool over the vehicle that he didn’t yet own. The salesman appeared and spread the documents out on the hood. As he took out his chequebook and pen, a shadow passed over. They looked up. They realised that it was not cloud, but smoke. The pungent smell grew stronger. In the poor light, he opened his chequebook across the documents and clicked his pen. As he went to write, a spot of ash landed and made a smudge as he went to sign. He looked at it for a long beat. He closed the book and apologised.

He never expected the salesman to understand.