Author: Alexander Fawn

There could be little doubt that his present situation was responsible for his musings.

She would be coming back soon. He had been laying there for days, coming to terms with what the future had in store for him. The bed was comfortable and the staff were very nice. He had nothing to complain about. He was in the best possible place. During his first visit to the hospital several months ago he had been given a conclusive diagnosis. This had given him some comfort at the time. It was good to know what he was dealing with. This time though, he knew that his condition would only worsen. Naturally, his age would be against him. He was resigned to the fact that his time was running out. On the subject of time, he checked his phone. The nurse would be coming back soon.

She had been going on and off shifts since he arrived. He liked her. He didn’t know her, how could he? What he could see was that she was always content with her work. Always bright, without putting on any artificial happiness. He wondered about her, what would her future hold? She’d be no more than in her mid-twenties. She could be married; she had no ring. Maybe nurses have to take them off while on duty; he didn’t know. She may even have children; no way of telling. Did she grow up here in this town? What are her hobbies, her passions? How much of these things will dictate the sort of life she’ll lead. Where will her next job take her? What opportunities are in the offing as her life rolls on? How will…

His reverie was shattered by the clatter of the trolley coming in. With a brief smile and an announcement about his vital readings being taken, she began to attend to him. He was sure she was coming to the end of her shift. What would her immediate future bring? Home to a husband and children; a meeting with friends in a local pub, a pop concert with her boyfriend, a movie with friends, a visit to her parents or a quiet night in? All possible futures looming, with prospects and possibilities far more varied than his own.

When she was done, she hung the clipboard back on the end of his bed. She smiled again and gave him a little wave as she left, saying she’d see him tomorrow.

Ah! He thought, tomorrow…

To say that he didn’t like his boss was a gross understatement.

The years of working for him had taken its toll. You could say that it had reached a breaking point the day he put his cunning plan into action. The money that was accruing for the firm’s Christmas do was building up. The boss’s secretary kept it in the desk in her office. He had to be careful with the timing of things. It was late afternoon when he saw his opportunity. Opening her desk, he found a plastic beaker with coins and a plain envelope stuffed with notes. He left the change and took the envelope. It contained well over a thousand. Down in the underground carpark he carefully jimmied the boss’s door open and hid the envelope under the passenger seat.

The next day the theft was discovered. There was a hell of a stink, of course, and the police were informed. It was arranged that a detective would attend the scene the following morning. That evening, an anonymous tip was made by phone saying that the general manager had been seen taking something suspicious to his car. The frame-up had gone like clockwork.

Of course, our disgruntled employee had no way of knowing that on the following morning, as arranged, the manager traded his car in for a new model.

Further, needless to say, the man who carried out the detailing of second-hand cars for the car yard regarded it as a bonus!

All was silent.

…and they went together to a sheltered place where they found food. Above, there was a murmuring. Between them they prepared a meal, then divided it, placing it on two plates. And the plates were made of gold. The murmur grew louder and became a roar. It came from an ever-darkening sky. Two more gold plates covered the meals. And they came away to the sound of a million voices, full of fear. They left the place until their hunger brought them back. With both fear and hunger, they came again. At the shelter, they removed their food. And they ate. And the great cacophony of voices rang out again.

Once fed, they emerged to a bright, opening sky and listened. The great call of the anguished voices fell away to one.

It said, “My children have eaten. All is well.”

They left… and the silence returned…

As soon as she arrived at the airport she got a shock when she checked the departures board.

The display said that her flight had been delayed by an hour; a whole hour! In an agitated state, she thought, how does a plane get delayed for an hour? Was it some technical issue that required some last minute maintenance? Did they have a problem with a passenger that held the thing up? She didn’t know. She only knew that it couldn’t have come at a worse time. She felt her whole body trembling as she went looking for a seat that had a direct view of a clock. She settled down and tried to calm herself by checking all of her travel documents again. It wasn’t working. Her hands were shaking and she felt a cold sweat on her neck and forehead. She attempted to dab herself with a tissue without drawing too much attention to herself.

She checked the time again and squeezed her eyes shut. She took a really deep, slow breath. She told herself… just get real!

It’ll be days before they discover his body…

The toddler lay there looking across the room at his parents.

He couldn’t help wondering how he managed to come into the world. How did these guys ever get together? He asked himself, what were the chances? Him, with his messy hair and his shabby clothes and his cracked spectacle lens. Her, with her meticulous make-up, fashionable hair do and smart outfit. Him, spending most of his time laying on the couch scratching himself. Her, continually dusting, window washing and generally keeping the house in good order. What were the chances, him being an itinerant farm labourer, busing into the city to buy warmer socks. Her taking time out from her legal practice to have her nails done. Him going for a coffee to make his trip just a little bit special. Her using a quiet corner of the café to consider the case notes she’d copied to her mobile. Him gazing around wondering whether he could afford a sausage roll. Her looking around at the café’s clientele, estimating the annual turnover. His and her eyes meeting.

What happened then? What caused that magic spark, that moment of euphoric attraction, that inexplicable element that put it all in motion? Just what were the chances? He thought, again. And how in heaven’s name was he, at his age, able to consider all of this so comprehensively.

It’s likely to be some unseen aspect of a minimum probability amplitude, he thought.

It was one of his favourite things, watching the ducks flapping around on the pond.

His Dad used to sit here, just like this, when he was alive, watching the birdlife in the park. There was always something peaceful about being here.

The tranquillity of it was suddenly broken. The kids came out of nowhere, shouting and laughing. He felt a little uncomfortable being a solitary figure just spending quiet time. Maybe they would leave him alone. Local kids had picked on him in the past. You could never tell whether they were going to cause trouble or just go on their way without issue. As they drew near it was obvious that they weren’t going to leave him alone. It started with them calling him names and commenting on his looks. They were shouting at him, saying that he was scruffy and didn’t belong there. Then, one of them, the oldest, picked up a stick and threw it at him.

That was enough!

To their great surprise he stood up and began running at them at a surprising speed. They all began running, but he managed to catch up with the older boy who had tripped and fallen. The boy yelled when the bite came. He managed to get to his feet and was led away by his friends. As they disappeared from view the calming atmosphere of the place returned. He settled back down to watch the flapping.

No one should be cruel to dogs.

The box was full of stuff ready to throw out.

His wife had been sorting bits and pieces, with a view to clearing unwanted stuff out. He found it on the kitchen table and was idly sifting through it, picking up the odd item before dropping it back in. He noticed a piece of blu cloth and tugged it out. He couldn’t believe what he was looking at! It was one of his favourite t-shirts of all time! It was the one he’d worn when they took that long summer holiday, the one that always goes so well with his light blue cargos, the one with the handy pocket. It has to be a mistake. Just as well he found it. He went looking for her.

She was in the laundry. He walked in holding it up. He said, “I just found this.”

“Yes, from the box, I suppose.”

“That’s where I found it,” he said, hugging it to his chest.

She sighed. “And you’ve come in here to talk about it have you?”

“Well, of course. This is just about the best t-shirt I’ve ever owned.”

“Not any more it isn’t.”

“What?”

“Just look at it. It’s so old. It’s got stains under the armpits I’ve never been able to get out. It’s so thin around the neck that it all sags out of shape, and it has five small holes in it, I’ve counted them.”

He held it up to the light. “They’re very small holes,” he said. He shook it and spread it across his chest and asked, “What do you think?”

She pulled a face. “I think it’s a rag.” He went to speak. She carried on, “Honey, you have to face it. Right now, what you’re holding is a piece of rag. It is so thin that you’d have to say that it’s not even a useful piece of rag. There is no way you can wear that.”

He looked crestfallen, but seemed to be resigned.

She gave him a loving smile and said softly, “That’s life for you, sweetheart. Get used to it, my darling.” She stiffened. “Just pop it back in the box, there’s a love.”

He nodded and slunk away.

Poems rarely get personal.

It’s not in their nature at all.

But a few of those least favourite things,

Are not at all hard to recall.

–

Like those people that drive too close,

Or dogs that bark in the night.

Those with beards, not kept trim,

Or a joke that gives one a fright.

–

People in big hats, looking silly,

Having nowhere to park,

Unsubscribing over and over,

Treading on a snail in the dark.

–

Shop assistants with faces glum,

Fast food that’s horribly slow,

A Polly telling a bare faced lie,

A screw left over with nowhere to go.

–

Eggplant, spinach and cabbage,

A lack of detail in TV mags,

Biscuits that don’t have chocolate,

False smiles and holes in bags.

Plastic forks and stairs without rails,

Late trains and very long queues.

Personal, but there all the same,

Simply things I wouldn’t choose.

It had been the worst three years of his life.

Things had kind of piled up on him during his youth. Then, finally, it had all caught up with him. The conviction… it was this that had brought home to him the undeniable fact that he had taken the wrong path, but now… he was out! Out from the cage that the authorities had held him in. During those final few months, he had made up his mind to leave his old life behind. Could he really turn it all around? These were the thoughts that swamped him as he rode the bus into town. The world beyond the window looked so good, so inviting. Could he stay out there, living an honest life, knowing right from wrong, choosing the right path?

As he stepped down from the bus, he was amazed at how busy the streets were, with people hurrying along, all going about their daily lives. Lives that didn’t involve crime. Simple, happy lives. He enjoyed being jostled along by them; being with them, being part of a normal society. His head was swimming with such thoughts, together with the joy he felt for his new found freedom as he turned the corner. So much so, that he hadn’t seen the elderly woman fall while the contents of her shopping trolley tumble out into the gutter.

Helping her up was easy. She was frail and light. He managed to weave their way through the foot traffic to the steps of a building. She sat their patiently while he retrieved her trolley and gathered up all of the scattered items.

It was several minutes before he returned to her. The old woman was beside herself with praise for his prompt action. He was beginning to feel almost uncomfortable with the constant thanks he was receiving from the old dear.

Finally, she was up and on her feet, on her way, pulling her trolley behind her, waving over her shoulder.

He stood watching her for a while, as she disappeared, mingling with the crowd. He reflected on how easy and natural the whole thing had been.

He was surprised at this … together with his newfound moral judgement.

Conviction.

He woke up on this particular morning with a desire to improve his before school routine.

The aim was to build something that would make the business of making absolutely sure that each day he had everything he needed in his school satchel before leaving home. His initial thought was that it wasn’t a big ask. Anyway, that’s how it started. Over a period of several weeks, he gradually gathered together what he needed. It wasn’t always easy and he had to take a few liberties in the doing of it. That, in itself, wasn’t a problem. He enjoyed the furtive aspect of the accumulation process. He was well aware of the fact that most would find it a sheer nonsense. That in no way deterred him.

So, between the bathroom, the laundry, the kitchen drawers, his mother’s wardrobe, his father’s toolbox, his uncle’s shed, and the skip behind the local hardware shop, he managed to put together what he needed.

He found two strips of blue tack, a wire coat hanger, three fridge magnets, a plastic thimble, an assortment of tyre pump washers, the spring from a clothes peg, half a dozen bamboo kebab sticks, the lid from a large instant coffee tin, a packet of tintacks, a heavy duty elastic band, tweezers, safety pins, pop sticks, a nailfile, an empty yogurt container, several large nails, a small quantity of talcum powder in a pot, a number of emery boards, a lemon, a sachet of mayonnaise, a brown paper bag, rubber gloves, an old toothbrush, and a huge number of paperclips, too many really.

Of course, it really was sheer nonsense, and needless to say… it didn’t work.

It was the full impact of this sudden and shocking realisation that woke him up!