Author: Alexander Fawn

It was while they were holidaying in the country in a rented chalet that he proposed.

For the remainder of the week they discussed wedding plans; dates and places. It was going to happen very quickly. Arrangements would be put in place soon after their return. Then, quite unexpectedly, on their final day, it happened. They were going over the list of guests again, sitting on the front porch, when something clattered to the floor inside. She was the first to go back in. At first, she could see no reason for the smashed cup to be on the floor. It had been on the table, nowhere near the edge. It was a warm, sunny afternoon, but with hardly any breeze; certainly not enough wind to blow it off the table. After standing quietly looking around for a minute or two, she sensed movement behind the kettle. She stepped to one side and saw a small field mouse sniffing the surface. She stood watching it for a while before he joined her.

“What was it?” he asked.

Without taking her eyes off it, she said, “It’s him… or her.”

“Damn!” he groaned, and began walking around the room.

She was puzzled. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something to hit it with.”

“Hit it? Why would you do that?”

He paused. “Oh! We don’t want the thing bringing disease into the place, do we?”

She stiffened. “It’s not a rat, it’s a field mouse.”

He sighed. “It’s just the quickest way, that’s all. Better than chasing it around.” He looked angry. “We’re in the middle of something more important than this thing, whatever it is.”

She took a deep breath, wondering about the value that he put on the life of the small animal. “It’s a field mouse and I’ll take care of it. I’ll join you in a minute,” she said firmly.

He shrugged. “OK.” He sneered at the mouse, still moving around sniffing things. “Try not to spend too much time on it.” He went back to the porch and the list.

She watched him go, before opening cupboards until she came up with a plastic bowl with a lid. She moved forward and carefully placed the bowl over it. Then, trying not to hurt the tiny creature, she slid the lid underneath. She picked it up, listening to the scrabbling noise coming from inside. Pushing the back door open with her shoulder she went out, holding it as steady as she could manage.

The chalet, being part of a farm property, had a large field behind it. Slowly walking into the centre of it, she sat down with the upturned bowl between her knees. “This is where you live,” she whispered. She lifted the lid and smiled as she watched it scamper away to become lost to view in the thick grass.

It was pleasant, sitting there in the sun. She sat lost in thought for a while. She looked at the time and worked it out. From the time the cup fell, she estimated ten, fifteen minutes, no longer. She thought about that; it wasn’t long. It wasn’t long compared with a year or a month, or maybe just a week or two before she found out about his attitude towards life. Not his life or hers, but life…

She got to her feet. She stood for a while, not seeing any trace of the mouse, but thinking about how by breaking the cup it had given her an insight into the management of her future happiness. These thoughts she would keep to herself. They would finish the list. Fly out tomorrow. Go back to their separate lives for a day or two before letting him know how their plans had changed.

Enlightenment was his speciality; he was just one of those ‘did you know’ people.

They were sitting together on the settee, half watching a show on television.

“Sleeping burns more calories than watching TV” he says, casually. He was doing it again.

“Did you know that a French pig was actually hung for murder?

Her head wagged slowly. “You don’t say.”

“Yes, and not only that, pigs can’t look up at the sky.”

“Wow!” she whispered.

“Not many people know that coconut water can be a replacement for blood plasma.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, and the Japanese think crooked teeth are attractive.”

“They do?”

He smiled and said, “It’s hard to believe that you have to pick blueberries before they ripen.”

She grunted, her eyes were beginning to close.

He went on. “Did you know that the French can legally marry dead people?”

She mumbled something and fell asleep. She began snoring almost instantly.

Good Lord! That was quick, he thought. She’s snoring, that’s OK. She does that a lot. Anyway, it’s not a problem.

“Did you know”, he says, addressing the empty room, “that a person’s sleep isn’t effected by snoring until it goes above forty decibels?”

Despite receiving no reply, the silence in the room was familiar.

This was the part of his work that he enjoyed the most.

The chief inspector had asked all six members of the household to gather in the manor house’s living room. There was the mistress of the house, now a widow; the butler, who found the master shot dead in the library; the maid, who was upstairs dusting at the time; the gardener, who was pruning in the back garden; the cook, who was stewing fruit in the kitchen, and she was joined there by the chauffeur who had come in for a cup of tea. On the face of it, none of them where in the library when the gun was used. All of them were at home when the fatal shot was fired. They all seemed to have alibis, but the inspector was about to blow the lid off the case.

He looked up from his notebook as they assembled. He counted five. “We seem to be one short,” he said, then asked, “Where’s the maid?” The mistress raised her hand, saying, “I’ll get her,” and hurried out. The inspector caught a brief smile that passed from the cook to the butler. He assumed that it wasn’t unusual for the maid to get behind with things. They all sat waiting in silence. After several long minutes, the inspector asked the gardener to go and fetch them so that he could move forward with the case. He was getting impatient, but he tried to remain professional. When even more minutes had ticked passed the chauffeur gave an impatient grunt and got up saying he’d go and give them a big hurry up. After even more waiting the cook hurried out without saying a word. The inspector, now left alone with the butler and wondering what was going on, went to say something, but was stopped when the butler said he would get to the bottom of it, and left.

The inspector was left on his own in the room, and as though it was perfectly natural, was still there when he looked at the time several minutes later. With a great sigh, and feeling more than a little foolish, he left the room in search of any one of them. After checking all of the rooms, from top to bottom, he found himself back downstairs and listening to a series of muffled noises. When he entered the kitchen, he heard something that sounded like giggling, coming from the pantry. He opened the door and the butler stepped forward, trying really hard not to laugh. “I’m sorry, inspector,” taking on a more serious and apologetic voice, we shouldn’t have done this, we know that.” He looked around at the others, who all stood nodding and looking like naughty school children. “It’s just that, well, you know how it is, the big manner house, the police inspector solving the case, gathering everybody in the living room, naming the culprit, making the arrest, all of that.” He looked around again at the others. “We knew who did it before we telephoned…” he giggled, then suppressed it, “it was the groom!”

The inspector stood gobsmacked for a while, trying to take it all in. “Groom? What groom, you don’t have any horses!”

“No, not our groom, he’s from the farm further down the lane. He and the master were always having words,” he looked back again and they were all nodding, this time seriously, “sometimes they would get into shouting matches,” he went on, “usually about money… we think the master may have owed him.”

They all slowly made their way out into the kitchen, while the butler explained.

“The gardener and I wrestled him to the floor, tied him up, gagged him and put him in the cellar.”

“Cellar? You don’t have a cellar.”

“Ah! Beg pardon, we do, sir. The cupboard under the stairs leads to a secret passage, with steps down to a small cellar. We tied him up pretty thoroughly.” Again he looked around at the others who were nodding at one another and smiling with obvious pride. The inspector made a brief note in his book and said, “Show me.”

They all trooped out into the hall and filed through the door under the stairs and down to the cellar. As he’d been told, the groom was not only securely bound and gagged, but tied to the leg of a table.

Back upstairs, with the man in handcuffs, the inspector called the station and arranged for the culprit to be taken into custardy. When this had been done, the inspector suggested they all return to the living room.

It was there that the inspector explained that his report would show that he, and he alone, had successfully caught and arrested the culprit, and in return he would not be laying charges against any of them on the grounds of perverting the course of justice.

As he left for the station, he considered himself lucky that no one had asked him who he had intended to name…

The girl who served behind the counter made his heart beat faster every time he went in.

There was no doubt about it; she was a stunner! He had to admit that it was just the thought of seeing her again that made him use the same café regularly. It wasn’t just her looks. She had a lovely personality, so open and friendly. Her simple uniform was always crisp and clean, and as for her smile!

He was reading his paper when he heard the scrabbling noise. He looked up and gave out a brief scream as he came face to face with the most hideous creature. It was crouching, right in front of him. Its black eyes bored into him. Its disgusting pink body was covered with huge wrinkles. It didn’t seem to have any hair. It looked menacing. The repulsive thing just sat there staring at him. He’d never seen anything like it. It was something straight from hell.

His cry of fear had gained the attention of other customers. He was considering rolling his newspaper up beneath the table and clubbing it, when the girl of his dreams approached.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, as she picked the filthy thing up.

He shuddered as he watched her stroking the underside of the revolting creature’s chin, causing the ugly body wrinkles to ripple slightly. “What is it?” he managed to stammer.

She flashed a smile. “Oh! This is Archie, he’s a hairless rat. He’s really quite harmless.” She said this as though it was perfectly normal to hold such a gruesome thing against her body.

A wave of disgust swept over him. He knew some sort of horrid contagion was at play, without fully understanding what it was.

She was still smiling, but it didn’t have the same appeal as before.

He did know that there were other cafés in town.

She was determined to get her own back.

There was absolutely no doubt about the fact that the woman who lives at number seventeen was responsible for her mother’s death. As far as she could tell, she had been the only witness. Now, it was only a matter of biding her time. She planned her retribution carefully. She was aware of the woman’s routine. Timing was everything. There was no hurry, she could wait for the opportunity to present itself. She would make her move at night, or better still in the early hours of the morning. It would be swift, with multiple attacks. She would strike when the guilty party was in the deepest of sleeps.

When the moment came, she struck.

In a way that only a mosquito can!

She was watching people come and go.

All sorts of people came through. Sometimes, a man, other times a woman, but mostly small groups; families. They were all interested to see what was on offer. Of course, the place was primarily about rescue. However, not too many of them looked as though they were in any way desperate to be rescued. It was quite annoying to watch them stroll past with only a mild sense of desperation about them. She considered that many of them were just going through the paces. Anyway, the centre would be closing soon and the nice girl would appear from somewhere out the back with their food.

Then, it happened. A woman, in her late fifties, nicely dressed, but looking quite forlorn. She had the look. Yes, definitely on a serious mission. A person that, without doubt, could very well suit her.

She approached directly. No hesitation. She asked someone if she could hold me. Moments later, the girl appeared and the woman was cradling me in her arms and softly whispering to me.

I purred as loud as I could.

She looked at the girl and nodded with a smile.

One more lonely human rescued.

She was looking down at her newborn.

He was such a beautiful baby. She was filled with the sense that she knew so much about his future; what he would do, what he would accomplish. Although only a short time into his life, she knew that he was destined for really great things. He would have a way of making those around him happy. His wisdom would know no bounds. He would be a peacemaker. He will have the knack of bringing people together. He may even become a leader in society; possibly the world! She knew these things because they are things that only a mother is given to know.

She looked up to see the surgeon enter the room.

He smiled and said, “Good morning, Mrs T. Everything went well. How are you feeling, now?”

“Perfectly well, thank you, doctor.” Looking back down, she whispered, “I think I’ll call him Donald.”

Her computer was giving her problems.

Searches on the internet were coming up with strange results. She had tried to fix it herself, but this hadn’t helped. Then, asking questions on the internet, she was given a great number of solutions, many by users with the same problem. Regardless of this, nothing worked. As time went by and the problem grew worse by the day, she considered simply buying a new one. That, she figured, would be the simple answer. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t afford it. Only one other avenue was open to her, although she didn’t like to dwell on the idea. She could contact her internet provider.

She had never actually done this before and was extremely reluctant to do it now. The idea of somebody poking about in your computer while you sit and watch had never been something she felt she could tolerate.

Eventually, she decided to contact the provider as a final attempt to put the computer right.

She is speaking to a woman who seems keen to fix things for her.

The woman is saying, “OK. I’m pretty sure I can fix this for you.”

“That would be good.”

“I just need your password.”

“Pardon?”

“Your password; I need it.”

“But… you don’t give out your password. I mean, you just never divulge it, do you?”

“Well, in this case, yes.”

“Are you sure.”

Silence for a few beats. “I am sure, yes. I need to use it to gain access to your computer’s connection to the internet.”

“I’m sure what you are saying makes sense, but I thought it was a given that computer users should never share their password with anyone.”

“Generally, that is true, yes, but not in this case.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am, yes.”

“It’s a matter of trust, I suppose.”

A sigh, followed by, “If you like, yes.”

“Can I trust you?”

A groan, then, “Look madam…”

Click!

In the evenings he made sure he spent time surfing the internet, despite the ads cluttering up his screen.

He knew that all this nonstop advertising on the internet, the stuff that was continually popping up every time he went online to look something up, was targeted at him. It appeared as a result of his past searches. It came about through the information he had previously provided during his explorations on his computer. Because he was used to this, he normally didn’t stop to look at any of it. That was the case before he saw an ad show up for a rather expensive bottle of perfume, several times. This was something he’d never looked for. Why would he? That’s when he started taking notice of them when they popped up on his screen. Apart from the perfume, there were ads for flower shop delivery services, the latest movie reviews, and shops that sell expensive boxes of chocolates.

This unexpected situation remained a mystery to him until he remembered a conversation he’d had with his latest girlfriend. They had just come out of the cinema and were in a café drinking coffee and talking about the film. They both agreed that it was one of their favourite pastimes, along with other hobbies. After parting for their home they had agreed to catch up again soon.

It was then, that he remembered that one of her hobbies was computer hacking!

It seems that the whole of humankind is constantly going in and coming out.

An ongoing transition from one to the other; a smooth and unstoppable segway of there and back. He is going into the bathroom to shave. She is coming out of the laundry to hang clothes. They are going into the changing rooms to shower after the game. He is coming out of the study to answer the doorbell. She is going into the bedroom to change the sheets. They are coming out of the stadium after watching a match. He is getting on a train to go to work. She is getting off a bus having done her shopping. They are going into the booth to take photos. He is coming out of the bus station to walk to work. She is going into the phone box to make a call. They are coming out of the courthouse after an adjournment.

He is going into hospital for a hip replacement. She is coming out of the library with a new book. They are going into the church to be married. He is going out to the garden to prune bushes. She is going into the kitchen to toast bread. They are coming out of the fire station at the end of their shift. He is going into his classroom at school. She is coming out of the post office with a package. They are going into the hotel with their luggage. He is coming out of the club rooms after playing golf. She is going into the clinic to get a blood test. They are coming out of the temple after prayers.

To and fro we go, seemingly without end.