Author: Alexander Fawn

The man looked as though he was about to give a sermon.

Despite the gloomy atmosphere and poor light, the man who sat listening could see the strength and purpose written on the other’s face. The man standing in front of him clasped his hands in a somewhat religious manner and began to speak. He was saying that when death comes to a person it should be a noble thing. It should be seen as a meaningful and worthy end; something to celebrate. He explained that the respect that accompanied it was important, if for no other reason than the fact that the opportunity to do so only presented itself once in a lifetime. He pointed out that he was a good choice when acting as a mentor on the subject.

He said he was willing to concede that the man in the chair may not have known what it was that he had run over, considering the fact that it had been dark at the time. He was willing to accept the possibility that he hadn’t even been aware of the bump. However, considering the other’s situation, brought about entirely by his own actions, he went on to say that he wouldn’t recommend that he allow his immediate expectations to get out of hand.

The man in the chair began to wriggle and grunt again. The tape across his mouth was making it difficult for him to breathe and his wrists began to burn even more from his continued struggling.

As the man removed the revolver from under his jacket.

He explained that Tiddles had been his world…

The being watched the man walk into the park with his lunch box.

Its mission, like so many others, was simple. It had been sent to obtain information about the level of advancement made by this person’s company’s medical research team. The man eating lunch was only an assistant, but he had access to every department within the building. The alien was a specialist; it had performed hundreds of these short-term habitations. They usually only required a few weeks of possession, sometimes only days, just enough time to find out whatever it needed to discover. Its race had been training and deploying beings such as this on a regular basis over the centuries. Information gathering was what it was all about. Having no visible form, it drifted closer. It looked into the man’s eyes for a moment, before travelling swiftly to his house to wait.

Compared with most of its assignments, this was an easy one. The target was a middle-aged bachelor with no children or pets. He lived alone and had very few friends. He was not a healthy specimen of humankind, and since the lift to his apartment had broken down months ago and had never been repaired, climbing the stairs to the twentieth floor each day didn’t help. Regardless of this, the being would take over his corporal form while he slept. Tomorrow was a work day. It may be possible to obtain enough information about the research being carried out, and to return to the craft, before the end of the following day. It liked quick jobs.

As predicted, it was only two days later that it prepared to leave the human’s body. It had all of the research material it had been asked to get and was waiting for him to drift off to sleep. Once he was completely unconscious, the being could exit.

That’s when the whole thing went pear-shaped. It had heard of this happening before. This failure, this malfunction, was very rare. The leaving process was simply not working. It was stuck. It was captured inside one of these human bodies, and as far as it knew, going on past events, it had never been figured out how to fix the problem when it occurred. It was trapped inside this dreary individual for the remainder of its miserable human life. Not until that time would it be released.

The situation was one that this entity, this being from such an advanced cosmic level, would have to endure, and with absolutely no way to prevent the ghastly inevitability of it. It was slowly coming to terms with the horrible truth that it was a prisoner, residing inside this rather boring individual who spent his life doing odd jobs around a research facility, day in and day out, who had hardly anybody he could really call a friend, who didn’t even have a pet for company, who had never married… in other words, this person, was as dull as ditch water!

There was only one way out.

It opened the window and jumped.

Nobody really knows what happened to the unwanted stranger.

The events took place quite a while ago now. Time has passed and things have moved on and most people have forgotten all about him. At the time, at least at first, he was simply regarded as one more foreign party visiting the place on a tourist visa. The pandemic was in full swing back then and everybody was getting jabbed. Fortunately, most people were vaccine protected when it happened. The story goes that he came from overseas and turned up from another part of the country as a tourist. It soon became evident that he was unvaccinated and had visited several public venues over a relatively short period. He tested positive to the virus.

Well, you can imagine, it caused quite a stink at the time.

He infected a number of people as he moved around, and his actions caused a sudden transmission of the disease around the community. Because of the registration system that was being widely used at the time, the culprit was soon identified. They knew who he was, what his name was, when he had arrived, and the location of the guesthouse he was staying in. They were able to trace where he had been. Quite naturally, people who were doing their best to protect themselves and others by getting a vaccine jab were very angry about the whole thing.

It came about that owing to the fact that there was so much going on in the community at the time, nobody noticed the fact that quite suddenly, he disappeared. Nevertheless, after a while people started to ask questions, but officially there were never any answers. All sorts of rumours started up about what had happened to him. It was as though he had never existed.

One version of the events that occurred around that time seemed to have some merit. The story goes that he was taken from the guesthouse one night and murdered. According to this version he was found behind the guesthouse partly hidden in the shrubbery. When the police were called, it became obvious that there had been no real attempt made to hide the body. Again, it was only surmised that at that point the authorities covered it up. The death was never officially recorded and the incident was never reported in the press. The notion was that some sort of suppression order had been made.

Put simply, the authorities were concerned about reprisals. Maybe it was thought that if the news broke that this had occurred, this activity, this idea, this solution may well have spread leading to copycat killings of people not doing the right thing by the rest of the community.

Nobody really knows the truth of it. The only thing anybody knows for sure is that he just simply disappeared…

Of course, this is just a story, and none of this actually happened.

His phone had been clogging up with messages.

These were not from his friends or in response to alarms or reminders that he might have set. No, they were from everywhere else! He was really sick of receiving all this unsolicited stuff, like you’ve won a grand prize or there’s a refund pending or a bitcoin opportunity or a package to collect or a tax office problem or a false message from a family member in need or you really need to verify something, before it’s too late! There’s so much to look out for… There are so many different kinds of frauds, like credit card, health care, charity, telemarketing, business, internet auction and investment. There are schemes that involve spoofing and phishing, skimming, advance fee requirements and that old time favourite, the pyramid scheme. There are scams like reverse mortgage, online accounts, internet shopping, great opportunities and false dating sites.

It seems like there are always golden opportunities to be found like the lottery, sweepstakes, competitions, charity, medical, gambling and employment. There are things like anti-aging products, illegal sports betting, counterfeit prescription drugs, but of course, there was always identity theft! He really was so tired of it all.

Anyway, this all changed for him on that particular morning. He was on the train, going into work when it happened. He found this special program on the internet while he was playing with his phone. It was guaranteed to put a complete stop to all this. He had time sitting there to read through the entire site; the instructions for setting it up, reviews by other users and an article by those that wrote the software program and how the whole thing had started.

By the time he’d finished reading it all, he was fired up and tempted to set it up on his phone as soon as he got into the office. Having time to think about it, he realised this wouldn’t be a good idea. What if he was in the middle of what looked like a fairly complex installation and he was caught doing it? What if he was interrupted and did something wrong, creating a problem with it that he was unable to undo? No, definitely not, he would wait until he got home.

But he knew exactly what he would do when the time came. At the finish of the installation, when the command line opened, he would type in the words: ‘unless it is really important, don’t text me.’ He imagined how good it’ll be to see that become part of the program…

There was a metallic squeal.

Then he woke up.

They stood looking, bewildered by the vast array of paint cans.

She had announced that their plans to redecorate had been put on hold for far too long. He wasn’t too sure what she had in mind, but it could be mostly doors, walls and ceilings. Although initially overwhelmed by the sheer variety of colours, she began working her way along the shelves, murmuring as she went. He noticed that she seemed to be placing a lot of emphasis on what they were called. Trying to help, he picked up a sample colour card. It was pale lemon.

“This might be a good colour for the door at the end of the hall,” he said.

She shook her head. “Not really, that’s a sour colour, don’t you think? Here’s a nice blue for the bedroom walls.” She held up a card.

It was a very strong colour, so he found something a lot lighter and softer. “This might be nicer.” The card read, ‘Blue Mist’.

She frowned. “Blue Mist, I don’t thinks so. I don’t like the cold or the humidity, you know that!”

“How about Lavender?” he said, holding up another card, not to be put off.

“Oh! No! Don’t you remember how I had that terrible fit of sneezing when we were at that lavender farm last year?”

Hiding his sense of confusion, he said, “That’s right, of course.” He was beginning to wish he was somewhere else. He decided to give it one more go. He found a very attractive, subtle orange. It was a gentle colour that he thought would look good in the kitchen. He waved the card. “This would be a nice colour for the kitchen, don’t you think?”

She came closer, nodding, looking interested. She took the card. Her nodding changed to shaking. She looked up at him with tears forming in her eyes. “Begonia,” she whispered. “They were my mother’s favourite.” She took a tissue from her bag. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

“Sorry, dear,” he said in a low voice, “I might be better at checking out brushes and rollers and things…”

Taking out another tissue, she smiled and nodded.

With great relief he went off to lose himself among the brushes…

He’d had the flu for three weeks!

It would be the sort of understatement that you’d only hear from a politician who was being really nice to someone he really hated from an opposing party, to say that he was sick of it. Once more he came home from the pickle-canning factory, and a day of having a runny nose and watery eyes. At least the masks they wore, the ones everybody was compelled to wear, disguised the fact that he was highly contagious. As he entered the lobby, his perfunctory collection of mail from his box was brought to a halt by a surprise. This came in the form of a small, heavily-padded package, covered with important-looking stickers. It was an advertising gimmick, no doubt, and it was over an hour and several tissues later before he examined it again.

On closer inspection, it was from a Chinese herbal medicine company. When opened, he discovered a tiny pill box containing only four tablets.

This in itself was intriguing enough, but reading the enclosed paperwork was an absolute show-stopper! According to this, the consignment, which had been paid for, was valued at twenty-thousand dollars!

Now, blowing his nose yet again, he was staring at the pills. The incredible fact that each pill was worth five thousand dollars, was slowly sinking in. He looked back at the address. It read 42, not 24. It had been misdelivered; meant for someone else in the building. Yes… that kindly old Chinese couple that live up on 42. They were nice, he’d often spoken to them.

He kept reading. The leaflet explained that each tablet would provide perfect health, guaranteed for a decade. He needed to think very carefully before taking the next step. What he was looking at, was obviously the closest you could get to anti-aging.

Several days later, his bank account was cleaned out and he had sold off several of his personal items.

On the bus to the airport, he took all three pills with a swig from his water bottle.

The committee needed to redraft the application form.

The five members sat around the table reviewing the current document. It had been in use for some time, but recent changes in the law meant that this version was no longer appropriate. They needed to remove those sections that were unfairly biased against gender and race. They also needed to consider the fact that nothing should remain that would potentially discriminate against any applicant based on socioeconomic factors. With this in mind, they read through the categories, these being date of birth, educational requirements, graduation date, race inquiries, citizenship, criminal history, salary history, military discharge information, previous sick days used in employment, and social security number. Then they considered which of the categories of information applied and which didn’t. They spent the better part of the day working on it.

Finally, all sections of the original form that dealt with such things were removed. The outcome of this being a blank sheet of paper, except for the heading ‘Application Form’. After deciding that the heading was entirely appropriate, it was agreed that they leave it in.

Following a protracted period of discussion, based on the group’s agreement that the primary purpose of the form was to collect relevant and required information from the applicant, it was decided to place the following instruction beneath the title.

‘Please use this form to provide information that is both relevant and required’.

Simply put, there is nothing remarkable about it; this unobserved journey having taken place so many times before.

It begins in the dark canopy, a tiny unseen severance, a snap barely heard. An invisible movement, unlit by the merest sliver of moon. It tumbles with others to the forest floor.

For a while the twig lays still.

Through the long dark hours of night it tumbles occasionally, tossed around in random patterns with others of its kind. As the morning wind rises with the sun, its progress towards the river bank increases. The gentle waters that snake through this wooded place will eventually take it.

Day by day it is swept across the forest floor, along with other finished pieces of nature. At the appointed time it is swept down the bank and taken by the water. A narrow stream that glides slowly through its allotted passage.

It floats now, snagging occasionally, each time freeing again to move on. Many more days of this pass before the widening river meets the sea. There, it is taken out by the tides, to be swallowed by the vast waters.

There, to be forever lost in the great ocean.

There is nothing remarkable about it; this unobserved journey having taken place so many times before.

–

…or, one may say…

It is, by its very nature, an iterative event meaning very little or nothing at all to most that walk this world.

Why is this so?

Should all of humankind be taking notice?

Should they want to know its every stage?

Is it generally considered to be of little importance, with nothing remarkable about it; this unobserved journey, it having taken place so many times before?

It begins in the dark canopy, a tiny unseen severance, a snap barely heard.

How powerful would be the feeling, the experience of being close enough to hear the sound made, amid all others, way above the forest floor.

Meantime, it continues. An invisible movement, unlit by the merest sliver of moon.

It tumbles with others to nature’s floor.

For a while the twig lays still.

To be there at that moment, as it settles, would be for some, precious.

Then, to witness, as through the long dark hours of night it tumbles occasionally, tossed around in random patterns with others of its kind.

To be there, as the morning wind rises with the sun, and its progress towards the river bank increases.

From moment to moment this could be seen.

The gentle waters that snake through this wooded place will eventually take it.

A patient observer would watch and wait.

Day by day it is swept across the ground’s scatterings, along with other finished pieces of nature.

The onlooker would have no concern about how much of this random time is taken.

At the appointed time it is swept down the bank and taken by the water.

This watcher follows.

A narrow stream glides slowly through its allotted passage.

Look on.

It floats now, snagging occasionally, each time freeing again to move on.

Watch.

Many more days of this pass before the widening river meets the sea.

See this.

There, it is taken out by the tides, to be swallowed by the vast waters.

Here, lost from sight.

There, it is swallowed, to be forever lost in the great ocean.

Can it really be that there is nothing remarkable about it; because this unobserved journey has taken place so many times before?

It sounds rather silly, but he had a crush on her when they were both five years old.

Well, it was something far more than a crush, really. All through their school years his obsession with her grew. Every chance he got he would make himself known and often expressed his undying love for her. He hoped that she would regard his persistence as something special and return his feelings for her, but this wasn’t the case. When they left school, he studied economics before taking a position with a Management Consultancy firm, while she filled shelves at a supermarket, before she left and spent time selling drugs before taking up prostitution. Despite their different callings, he continued to make contact with her as often as he could, still maintaining that they could have a very happy life if they spent it together. On each occasion she made it clear that she wasn’t interested.

Of course, this didn’t deter him and he continued, year after year, beseeching her to share her life with him. This was the case until she felt that she had no choice but to report him for stalking. Regardless of the police knowing her background, she was supported the day she reported him as a stalker. The case went to court and a restraining order was issued. For a long time following this, she was free of his unwanted attentions.

However, this situation changed the night she was with several friends in her favourite nightclub. It was a full house on the night of the incident. She would have had no idea that he was there, staying well out of sight, but watching her nevertheless with a burning passion and a never-ending infatuation. She was happily dancing when the fire started; they all were. It quickly spread to the ceiling and the panic ensued. He saw this chance to save her and was fighting his way through the chaotic crowd when the ceiling collapsed.

A dozen or more people died that night, including them. They were staring at each other in disbelief, having been ushered into an empty waiting room by two attendants with walkie-talkies. On the far side there were two lifts. It was evident that one went up and the other went down. One of the attendants, no doubt receiving orders, began to gather a small number in front of the down lift and pressed a button. After a few moments, the doors opened and the group was herded in. Just as the doors were closing, the unrequited lover jumped in after them.

It was at the Gates of Hell that the whole thing ended badly for him.

They wouldn’t let him in!

Sometimes being different is seen by others in different lights.

This undeniable, if somewhat obscure aphorism, may not have helped the girl from the village, had she thought about it. We’ll never know. As a person, she was much like anyone else; a bit brighter, maybe. Because she was known as such in the small community, it was no big surprise when she was awarded a scholarship. This would undoubtedly assure her of great prospects and a wonderful future. For her, this turn of events had the downside of being packed off to a normally extremely expensive private school. This was not seen by others. It was there, in a town far from home and in short order, she was seen as being different. Of course, in the whole scheme of things, she was!

The only thing that made her at least look like the other girls was what she regarded as a starchy uniform. Beyond this, she was nothing like the others and their attitude towards her as a newcomer kept in place this feeling of being generally not belonging and in fact unwanted. As the first few unpleasant weeks dragged by, the sniggering and avoidance slowly became overt ridicule. Her humble beginnings were often alluded to.

When the very much anticipated time came for her to return home, the level of excitement was something she had never felt before. The break would probably give her time to adjust somehow. Maybe see the situation from the outside looking in? She wasn’t sure. She looked forward to catching up with the friends that she had been separated from over that first period away. She was surprised to find that for many, their attitudes had changed. Even her best friend had strange ideas about how she just wasn’t the same. How could she be? Her elevation to a posh school was often alluded to.

On her return to what was generally seen as the better school, she found that a far greater tendency was to keep herself to herself. As far as her studies were concerned, she no longer had the drive and enthusiasm for the learning process that was there in spades in her former life. Her poor performance in this respect added to the derision and the feeling of alienation. She was becoming acutely aware of the two worlds that she was living between. Neither of which accepted her and in neither of which she belonged.

She knew that as a person, she was much like anyone else; a bit brighter, maybe, but knowing this didn’t help. It didn’t ease the anguish that now built steadily or the interminable loneliness that she now felt in this separate world. Over a traumatic period she tried to claw back that former person that she was comfortable with. She tried really hard, but failed.

Back home, at her service, those private feelings of annoyance over a girl that had waisted such a wonderful opportunity were unspoken.

It was so hard to understand why she would do such a thing.