Author: Alexander Fawn

It was such a great story!

It had come to her in a most exciting dream. She would have to get it written while it was all crystal clear in her head. The longer she left it the more chance there was that the detail would begin to fade. In order to capture the whole thing she would have to focus on the one and only activity of writing it all down. With this in mind she went straight to her laptop. To her annoyance, the thing was dead. She had forgotten to charge it and she’d left it on all night. She realised that she had a dictation app on her phone and this would allow her to get the story told and she could type it up later. When she picked it up she saw this too was dead.

Becoming angry, she raced around looking for a ballpoint pen. She found one, but it had dried up completely. Out of frustration she took out her expensive fountain pen, only to find it had run out of ink. She was out of ink and needed to buy more. She needed to write a note to remind her, but she had nothing to write with. She was pretty sure she hadn’t any pencils, after more searching she confirmed the fact. She thought about chalk. She could write it all up on the kitchen wall. She had seen a small piece of blue chalk somewhere around the house, but that was some time ago. She hunted around anyway and came up with nothing.

She felt sheer desperation gripping her, when suddenly… she woke with a start.

Wow! She thought. What a frantic dream. All that running around looking for a way to capture that story. It must have been one hell of a story. She lay still for a while.

The story itself?

She had no memory of it.

The observatory’s newly installed telescope was far more powerful than their old one.

In fact, with the latest technology being applied, it was probably the most powerful in the world. So much so that every Tom, Dick and Harry wanted to look through it. Of course, this only applied to staff, but even they had to book times when they could jump on for a short session. This process of registering beforehand was introduced in order that the ongoing business of the observatory could be maintained. However, as a result of further budget cuts, it was realised that the idea of booking time slots could be used to open it up for the public. It would only require one staff member to be on duty to supervise and answer any questions. Charging a fee for people to spend fifteen minutes using the telescope was proposed. The program, aptly named SEE FOR YOURSELF, operated for a two-hour period during the middle of the day (when most people were at lunch) twice a week. This would bring in sixteen customers a week.

This highly lucrative money-making program went well for several weeks, with word getting around and a waiting list growing longer every day, before an unexpected incident caused it to go terribly wrong for many more ways than one.

It happened when one of their regular attendees called the supervisor over with a question.

“When did we land on Mars?” he asked. “I didn’t know we did.”

With a smile on his face, the supervisor said, “No sir, of course not, we’ve never been to Mars,”

“OK,” said the customer and tapped a key and brought the image up.

“OK. How do you explain the can opener?”

He sat in the lotus position on a mountain, somewhere in Europe, probably.

Maybe it was meditation, maybe it wasn’t. He was completely alone. Alone with his thoughts. He was thinking about nothing in particular. It was not a thought, but a feeling. Maybe an emotion. Something that was always there. It was meant to be there because it was eternal. It was a feeling that got under his skin and in his head and in his heart. It was all-consuming. It was insidious and it was inside him. He felt it all the time. He knows it is not a panacea to be used in an uncertain and threatening world. Yet he knows that both darkness and suspicion may reside within it. It went with him to his dreams. As inseparable as his shadow, it never leaves him.

Was it a feeling of guilt or joy? There! He’d asked the question. He didn’t know. And did it make sense that he didn’t care? There was no known method of meditation that could cure it. That was perfectly fine as he didn’t want it cured.

Whatever it is, he chooses it to be.

He certainly hadn’t expected the call.

At the time it had been quite a buzz having his old school friend Stinker make contact. This was despite the fact that all that time ago he had stolen the Stinker’s girlfriend. Maybe it was only him that remembered it. As childish as it was, there had been bad feeling between the youngsters at the time, but this was obviously something that could be safely left in the past, were such things belong. The caller had been working overseas for a couple of years and was now back, getting in touch, and eager to catch up after a long absence. After a long chat, he noted the name of the club, apparently the best possible place to meet up in, with rave reviews being posted. He agreed to be there at the appointed time on the following evening. The caller said that would be good as he was leaving the next day.

He felt a degree of childish excitement as he got off the bus and made his way to the rendezvous. It was hard finding the place at first and he had to check that he’d typed the address into his phone correctly. Eventually he found it tucked away in a backstreet. The bouncer on the door had given him a funny look and seemed reluctant to let him in at first. This was resolved by him explaining that he was meeting somebody. When he entered, he was surprised to find that the place’s décor, and the clientele for that matter, weren’t at all what he was expecting. The crowd seemed to be a rough looking mob and very rowdy. A silence fell as he made his way to the bar, looking around for the one who had invited him. He was nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town his old school friend was looking at the time and wondering if the other was having trouble finding the place. He waited a while longer before trying his phone. After several attempts, each time finding his calls were being rejected, he started to think. There was that time at school, when they had fallen out. This had been payback! He felt foolish, he’d been kept waiting for well over an hour. He would go back and pack, ready for his morning flight.

Back at the other club… well, not exactly the club, but the rubbish skip in the alley behind the club, he slowly regained consciousness. He moved rubbish bags to one side and looked up. The container was large and deep. He wondered how difficult it would be to climb out. He became aware of the bruising to most parts of his body. Trying to sit up was painful, so climbing up and out wasn’t an option.  He had only a vague recollection of being approached by a woman at the bar just before being struck on the head from behind. He could remember nothing after that. He would call for help, but his phone was gone, along with his wallet, and his shoes! They were his favourites and very expensive, so he wasn’t too surprised. He would wait until morning when there’d be people about. Then, he could cry for help. He started to think. There was that time at school, when they had fallen out. He felt foolish. This had been payback! He would try to get some sleep before daylight.

Neither would ever know…

He was finding it impossible to put the previous evening’s events out of his head.

When he thought about it, settling into his seat on the bus, he realised they were not events as such, but a conversation. A very long and excruciatingly drawn out dialogue between him and her. As for telling her, well, wasn’t this admission a very personal and private thing? It had been a case of self-effacement, or maybe self-deprecation. He sat wondering about that before bringing out his phone and looking up definitions. Had it been effacement or deprecation? After a few clicks he read; effacement, this was about wiping something out or erasing it. It was about keeping oneself in the background. Then, he read that deprecation was about being involved an earnest disapproval or belittlement. He felt confused. Had he got it right? He decided that it was a matter of both.

It had started just after dinner. The conversation, a perfectly normal exchange between them, had changed radically when he made the statement. It had been a simple statement; simple but true. He had told her that on that precise topic being discussed, he was absolutely no good at such things. In fact, he was unquestionably hopeless. He had followed this with an apology. It was at this point that she had said that this was nonsense. The look on her face when she said it came back to him. He felt his cheeks reddening as he went on considering the lengthy conversation that had followed.

He looked out through the vibrating window and asked himself, was that true, what he had told her, what he had said? Yes, it was. It had always been the case with him. Surely, a thing like this should be respected. After all, he didn’t have to openly admit to that particular failing. It was a personal weakness. A flaw that had always been there. It wasn’t easy, laying himself bare like that. Then, in a quite illogical twist, she had accused him of being self-centred. This was tantamount to saying that he was selfish! Surely, despite the fact that it was his original declaration that had started the whole thing off, such an admission on his part would have to indicate the complete opposite!

Although, he had to concede that his announcement had been basically all about him, and to that degree it had quite obviously been all about himself… His head was spinning as he saw that he was getting close to the city.

He blew his nose furiously. That usually worked to clear his head; it did.

By the time the bus pulled into his stop, he had worked it all out. It would start with him booking into a hotel for a week, then he would call her after a couple of days, out of politeness if nothing else.

She really should have listened to his self… self, whatever it was!

An upgrade from our daggy digs;

Comfort and function here combine.

The clock, right more than twice a day.

All previous dwellings this does outshine.

A proper place to sit and write,

Where time and harmony both align,

Where unhurried thoughts can flow,

An upmarket move… not before time!

–

Club and café close at hand,

Menu, service, both are fine.

The café with an ocean view,

The club, ideal to relax and dine.

–

The water running always hot.

Of pesky ants there is no sign.

Spacious bathroom, comfy beds,

No head-banging upper-bunk in mine.

–

No shower-curtain on the table.

From the upper deck a view sublime.

No more digital isolation.

Internet now online.

–

A room for quiet contemplation,

With atmosphere divine.

Time enough for random musing.

All this, at number fifty nine.

They had been having relationship issues for some time.

The latest disagreement ended up with a shouting match. He was a lot louder than her and most of the time he wouldn’t let her get a word in. There was a sickening repetition about the way he swore at her before slamming the door as he left. Letting him move in with her was a mistake. The tea that she’d prepared for them both would go to waste, again. She stood, wiping away her tears. It was all so predictable. He would head for the pub and spend the whole evening getting drunk with his mates, and when he came home late…

After reheating her meal, she peacefully sat down to it. She felt better after eating. She put the plate in the sink and looked at his cold, unwanted meal. Would she cover it and put it in the fridge? No. She took it to the waste bin and scraped it off into the waste bag. That’s when it came to her…

She pulled out an old suitcase and filled it with all of his stuff, put it on the front step and called the twenty-four-hour locksmith.

The old lady had lived in the cottage paying a small rent for a number of years.

It was one in a row of six small buildings and her pension allowed her to live there in reasonable comfort. It was a regular thing that her grandson, a teenager and someone who doted on his granny, called in at least once a week for a visit. He would do shopping for her occasionally, if she didn’t feel up to it. She was always happy to see him and hear how he was getting on with his medical studies. She was so proud of the way he had been willing to give up so many of his evenings to go over his course materials, ready for each coming exam. It was just a day after his last visit that the rent collector had called in on his fortnightly schedule with some disturbing news. He explained that the owner had decided to double the rent!

This came as a terrible shock to the old woman. On the following day, talking with her neighbours, who were likewise given the bad news, she learnt that the owner had been approached by a developer. He had made the owner a handsome offer because he planned to demolish the row to make room for a small shopping centre. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that, like her neighbours, there was no way she could stay there. She began to think about what her future would hold for her.

When her grandson came a couple of days later, she broke down and cried as she gave him the news. He sat expressionless as she told him about the visit and how unexpected it was and how she had spoken to others that were told the same thing and how it had come out that the owner had been made the offer and that the cottages were to be demolished and replaced by shops.

When she had finally finished and had sat dabbing at her eyes with tissues for a while she looked up to see that his stony expression had changed to a gentle smile.

“You obviously haven’t heard then?” He said.

She gathered herself. “What do you mean, dear?”

He went on. “Something about a burglary going wrong. Someone breaking in to the owner’s house. Him being knocked unconscious and having his carotid artery cut and him bleeding to death in only a few seconds.”

“Oh! Good gracious.” She said, really quite shocked. “I didn’t hear about that. When did it happen?”

“Tomorrow night.”

The corpse sat up, causing the sheet that had covered it to fall silently to the floor.

Naturally, the forensic pathologist was shocked by this unexpected event, but at the same time intrigued. After all, it was his job to play a most important role in the investigation of any death by examining the body of the deceased in order to determine the cause of death. It was all part of assisting with the reconstruction of the circumstances in which any such death occurred.

The dead person, and the thing now sitting sideways on the metal trolley with legs dangling, certainly looked like a dead person, began to mumble.

“…was boiling potatoes…,” Then came a long pause. “…pain in chest…” Another pause. “…left the hot plate on…”

In a soothing voice, the pathologist said, “I’m sure the ambulance personnel would have seen it, if anything was left on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Quite sure. Can I get you to lay back down?”

It went back into a lying position, whispering, “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” he replied, as he casually felt for a pulse, finding none. “Yes,” he repeated, “but I’ll have that checked for you.”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

He heard a murmured, “Thank you.” as he pulled the cover up.

That evening the pathologist went home early.

In the large room at the front, they were looking out of the window. It was a strange sight. The creatures outside were milling around, displaying the most peculiar behavioural patterns. They seemed to be exhibiting a mixture of curiosity and stupidity at the same time. It didn’t help that they had such weird body shapes.

The two of them remained staring out for a long time.

Eventually, one said, “I don’t like the look of it.”

“Nor me,” said the other

A little later, after all of the required recordings were completed, one of them said, “I don’t know, it all looks a bit dodgy to me, let’s keep moving.”

 “Agreed,” said the other.

With that, the saucer rose slowly.