Author: Alexander Fawn

It had been a terrible morning.
It was supposed to be one of the happiest days of their lives. Many months had been spent planning the wedding. On the morning of the big day a number of events had unexpectedly taken place. It started with the violent storm that raged through the whole district from first light. The power outage meant that the organ couldn’t be played and candles were set up around the church’s interior. It was as though some unseen force was trying to prevent their marrying.

Meanwhile, all three hired cars broke down, the photographer showed up drunk, her dress got ripped as she got off of her brother-in-law’s motorbike and she was poked in the eye by the umbrella, held for her while getting into the church in the downpour. The best man lost the ring when he fell and broke his leg while jumping off the bus and was replaced by his cousin. In the church, babies started crying and unhappy children started fighting. A candle went over and started a fire in the vestry and a wasp nest was disturbed near the church entrance; several people were stung.
The unlucky couple finally stood together in front of the priest, who was in the process of asking the couple if they wanted to postpone when he had a sudden heart attack.
They had been nodding
Some people just don’t see omens.

What is meant by everything?
A thing that’s never seen,
That no one can claim full knowledge of.
What does it really mean?

Is the concept meaningless?
Do we say it just for fun?
What is it that this word encompasses,
When all is said and done?

Is it true that everything changes,
Through the fullness of time?
Taking into consideration,
These are assumptions in a paradigm.

Every single molecule,
Every single breath,
Every single birth,
Every single death.

Everything ever created,
Everything ever destroyed,
Everything ever hated,
Everything ever enjoyed.

Is it everything ever done,
Or everything ever said?
All things living.
All things dead.

Feeble attempts to make it known,
To give the word a life,
When no one really knows,
With a lack of understanding rife.

So many questions hanging there.
No answers to the quiz.
It’s just a convenient way of summing up,
While nobody knows what it is!

The elderly man took his usual evening walk after tea.

He’d been doing it for years. In fact, so often that his way through the trees using the narrow well-trodden paths was hardly noticed anymore. Before she passed away, they had always done it together. It had been a ritual. He knew that his decision to carry on with it was in memory of her. As a couple, they’d been bonded since childhood. The illness had taken her slowly and they had often talked about whether there was an afterlife. If there was, he promised he’d find her. Now, like her, nature was allowing many of its trees to slowly shed its leaves and on this particular evening, he was walking over a carpet of fallen maple leaves. Being such large leaves, they tended to overlap when they hit the ground, covering and partly hiding the path.

He was suddenly aware of a large leaf drifting down so close by that he was able to easily put out a hand and catch it. It was a beautiful example of its kind, despite the fact that it was dying. He moved off the track to a fallen tree trunk and sat down with it. After a while he let it drop. It would lay there and rot, he thought.

It would break down and disintegrate slowly. It would become one with the soil and the compost, along with all the other leaves, would enrich the earth and allow other things to begin anew as the season changes.

He thought of her again and smiled.

After all, wasn’t rebirth just an ongoing cycle?

This is a story about a poem, a painting, a statue and a concerto.

…and it came to pass that in England a playwright writes a love poem, in Amsterdam an artist paints a baroque portrait, in Italy a sculptor crafts a marble figure, and in Austria a composer writes a music score.

An Australian schoolgirl is in France on a student exchange program. It is day’s end and she is in her room lying on her bed, reading. She has been given a homework assignment to choose a poem from the schoolbook she’s been given. The book contains a variety of classical works. She has to give an assessment and critique of the piece she has chosen. She has discovered a beautiful poem that she has not read before. She is so taken by it that she begins to read it a second time…

A Canadian art student is on a backpacking tour through Spain. Although he is taking a break from his studies, he intends to visit as many art galleries as he can. He has entered a room and finds an oil painting that shows a portrait of an elderly man sitting in a chair. The student is not sure whether he has come across it in any of his books, but is taken by it and after walking around the remainder of the gallery he returns to it. He settles on a seat opposite and spends time enjoying what he sees.

A Japanese family is on holiday in New York. During their stay they take a pre-booked day trip to Buffalo. The coach parks and the passengers are given time to visit Delaware Park, with its lakes and gardens. The daughter is a keen photographer. She is excited to find a bronze replica of her favourite statue. It is of a biblical figure. She takes several photos and can’t wait to show her friends back home. She stands back looking at it, dreaming of the day that she intends to visit the original.

A Swedish businessman pays a short visit to Finland. He takes a morning flight to Helsinki, where he has a number of business meetings scheduled for most of the day. He intends to speak with several companies that he has been dealing with, then stay the night at a hotel and return the following morning. On arrival, he settles in and confirms his booking for a rental car for getting around the city. He goes over the details of what he intends to discuss with each of the company representatives and the times that have been arranged. On his way to his first meeting he listens to a music program on the car’s radio. As a lover of classical music, he is captivated by what he hears. It is a beautiful piece, a concerto that he doesn’t think he has heard before. He arrives at his destination and parks. Quite regardless of his schedule, he stays in his car to listen to the rest of it.

Back in the day… in England, William Shakespeare wrote ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’ This being the eighteenth of his one hundred and fifty four sonnets. A piece that describes the consistent attributes and beauty of a beloved.

In Amsterdam, Rembrandt painted the ‘Portrait of an Old Man in Red’, a self-portrait showing him to be sitting calmly, yet showing a lifetime of wear.

In Italy, Michelangelo created a masterpiece of Renaissance sculpture, this being a larger-than-life marble statue of the Biblical figure David.

In Austria, Mozart composed the Clarinet Concerto consisting of three movements, shortly before his death. It was the last major instrumental composition he composed.

Meanwhile, eons of varying length drift away toward the now.

Could any of them fully conceive the legacy that they would leave behind?

There was so much talk about the planet dying and how to save it.

The young man, not long out of school and into work, was particularly worried about the newspaper reports and scientific articles on the subject. Then, he came across a piece about the Doomsday Vault. He read that it was a huge depository in Norway, where all of the world’s seeds were kept safe. It was with a great deal of excitement that he began to think a lot about the upcoming doomsday. He realised that this predicted scenario could be used to make otherwise impossible improvements for mankind and the world to come. He formed a plan, and with it, he saw himself as a futurist. He knew you could get just about anything on the black market. So, after a great deal of Internet research he managed to order a visitors pass for the vault. This came in the post a few days later. He booked a flight and took time off from work.

The day he entered the vault, he only carried a bag full of seeds along with a second, empty one. He made his way down into the main storage area and began searching for the thing he had come for. After a long time spent working through the systematically organised sections with their printed labels, he came to the container that held seeds for spinach. After emptying the seeds into his spare bag, he replaced them with similar looking lettuce seeds.

Mission accomplished, he knew he had sown the seeds for a better world!

On the surface he was a decent sort with sober habits.

He had always been kind to children and dumb animals, and had often been actively involved in a variety of volunteering projects for charitable groups. His past would give no guide as to what he had become. He grew up in a happy home and was always treated with kindness. In short, he could only be seen to be a really nice bloke. However, the fact is, he liked to, well… bump people off.

It started when he was a kid. His closest friend had told him he had spooky eyes. It meant very little to him, when a couple of days later, out on a picnic, he sent the boy over a cliff. He watched him tumble over and over before reaching the bottom. The sense of euphoria that swept over him as he watched, delayed his next move for several long moments. Eventually, he began running around shouting the boy’s name and getting the attention of the adults.

These activities carried through to adulthood, where he would regularly give an unseen nudge, push or trip. He always made sure that he was screened by plenty of people; crowds were his favourite. It was most often a fall in front of a car or train. He had never even been suspected. He knew that he had honed his skills to such a high level that he could probably rank himself with the likes of a professional assassin, although he would never do it for money. It would remain a hobby. Falls from high places were his favourite, but more difficult to set up.

On the domestic front, his own personal troubles concerned his current girlfriend. Their relationship had been going down the gurgler for some time. The truth of it being that he had grown really bored with her.

Happily, all this came to a head recently, when she told him that she wanted to go skydiving…

The church was nestled among aging trees at the quiet end of the lane.

Located on the outskirts of the village, it sat unattended and forgotten. He imagined there had been a time when its location, somehow separate from the bustle of comings and goings, would have been a welcome respite and sanctuary for those who had gone there to pray and give thanks. He stood eyeing the scene. There was a comforting beauty in what he was seeing. Then, he realised he’d been looking at the building for a long time, hardly moving. He loved the trees and the gravelly surface of the paths, but there was something… he stood back a little. Yes. He had it! He wasn’t happy about the roof tiles, they needed more moss.

With a smile, he added small blobs of blue and yellow to his palette, and with his brush he began mixing.

The woman entered the psychiatrist’s office and approached the reception desk.

Before she had a chance to arrange an appointment the shouting began. It was coming from behind the door of the consulting room. It fact, it was more than shouting. Someone was screaming, with threats to kill. This was followed by the sounds of a scuffle with furniture being knocked over. Seeing the panic button light up, the receptionist immediately called the police. It was obvious that a violent fight was going on, no doubt between the psychiatrist and a patient. It sounded as though the medical man was pleading with the patient to drop a knife. The woman was feeling nervous and was considering whether or not she should leave. The receptionist saw the look on her face.

In a cool voice, the receptionist said, “It’ll be all right, the police are usually very quick.” Then, with a reassuring smile, she added, “They’re only a couple of buildings away.”

Moments later, two large officers burst through the front door. The receptionist stood and pointed at the relevant door. They stormed through into the room and slammed the door behind them. There was a lot more yelling and commotion. It took the two policemen a while before getting the knife from the patient. Eventually, they appeared looking dishevelled, either side of a deranged looking man in handcuffs, who was still screaming and kicking out wildly. His eyes were ablaze with a frightening degree of evil. She stood well back to let them pass. The ear-splitting shrieking could still be heard as they left the building.

“May I help you?” said the lady behind the desk, still remaining calm.

“Actually, I wanted to make an appointment,” she replied, shakily.

The receptionist nodded and began checking her book, when the psychiatrist appeared in the doorway. His glasses had a broken lens and his hair was standing up on end in places. Buttons were missing from his shirt and white jacket. One eye was swollen and he had several bruises to his face. He raised a hand to the receptionist.

In a perfectly professional manner, he smiled and said, “Since I won’t be seeing that gentleman again, would around this time on a Wednesday afternoon suit?”

Ever since the night she met her secret boyfriend in the park, she made sure it was kept safe.

Although she wasn’t completely sure why she found it necessary to hold on to it, she knew that it represented something special. Meanwhile, life, for her, went on without boyfriends; she had no need for them. Her initial experience concerning their duplicity was enough. Put simply, she just didn’t trust men. She had a few select friends and that suited her social needs. Besides, her study was far more important, and having completed her course and qualifying with honours, she could only move forward. She very soon landed a well-paid position with a reputable company, enabling her to leave home and move into her own apartment.

Along with her regular belongings, she carefully transferred it from the far corner of her highest robe shelf, still sealed and taped in a plastic bag, then into her main case. It then went into a similar hard-to-reach spot at the top of a cupboard in her new place.

She quickly settled into her new life. However, as strange as it may seem, it took less than a year for her to meet and become fond of, a young up-and-coming professional, who worked in the same building. It came about that within a few months he moved in. All her ideas about how untrustworthy men were, seemed to fade away.

This was the case until the night she came home late from working overtime; something that rarely happened. For some reason her new boyfriend had decided to forage through her belongs. He said he only wanted to know her better, but had stopped looking when he found the heavily taped bag. He had opened it up and examined the contents. He was sitting on their couch holding it when she came in.

Saying that she was happy to explain why she had it, if he was prepared to listen to her, he agreed with growing interest. Sitting beside him, she took it and held it up…

So much happened after this. The police, the trial, the verdict and the cell.

As for it, it resides in an even more secure and tagged bag, in a large cardboard box in a basement evidence room.

Of course, it offered up two different traces of DNA.

It had come on so quickly!

She managed to get him into bed and make him comfortable. Most of the agonising contortions had passed and he was laying still, breathing with increasing difficulty. The bedroom was dimly lit. She sat on the edge of the bed, holding his hand. He was trying to say something.

She leant forward. “What’s that, dear?”

“Ambulance,” he gasped.

“Of course dear.”

He managed to say, “My mouth tastes funny.”

“Really? That’s interesting. That’ll be the syrup, dear.”

“Syrup?” he hissed.

“Don’t you worry about that now, dear. Just lie quietly.”

He groaned with the sudden racking of his body. “I may not get through this…” he croaked.

“I’m sure it’s just an allergy.”

His eyes widened and he made a great effort to speak. “Just in case, I can’t go on without telling you. Our savings, your cruise, the one you always wanted to take. The one we’ve spent a lifetime saving for.” He winced again with the pain.

“Oh!” she said, softly, “You mean Rome, the Colosseum, the Pantheon, Saint Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City, the medieval towns of Tuscany, Athens, Barcelona, Venice, Dubrovnik, the Greek Islands, and of course, the holy city of Jerusalem. Is that what you mean, dear?”

He frowned, looking puzzled.

“All gone,” she whispered, gently stroking his forehead.

“You know?”

“All evaporated away with your secret visits to that silly casino…” Her voice was almost singsong. “Your stupid poker games in the back room.”

“What…”

“Yes,” she went on with a comforting tone, “It’ll show up as an extremely high pollen count. A fatal allergy. You do spend so much time out there in the garden, my love, when you’re not gambling.” She chuckled. “It only took a teaspoonful of that special syrup. Well, I doubled it, to make sure.” She took a deep breath and shook her head slowly. “If you only knew how much trouble I went to. All that cloak and dagger stuff, and it was expensive!”

His throat seemed to be closing, but he managed to gasp, “Ambulance.”

“Of course, dear,” she repeated. “A little later. Not long now.

She bent closer and whispered in his ear, “Rome would have been wonderful!”

With a shrug, she got up and left the room.