Author: Alexander Fawn

She was weeding out the back when she became fully aware of its presence.

She had heard an annoying whine around the garden for several days before she actually spotted it. It was a drone, no bigger than a teacup, with a tiny camera mounted at the front. It was obviously a top of the range, extremely expensive piece of technology. She had seen these things advertised on the internet. She knew that their price tags could run into thousands. The moment she saw it she knew that it had been spying on her for the last week. She couldn’t help wondering about the mentality of a sick voyeur that wanted to spy on her while she was hanging out clothes or pottering around the garden. She also wondered whether it was a neighbour or somebody even further away.

Wherever they were, they would either have a screen on their control device so they could watch her live or the thing was recording stuff to be viewed later. Either way, she realised that she must not let the pervert know that she is aware of the intrusion. She made a great effort to avoid looking at it.

At the time, she had only intended to pull out a few more weeds and to do a bit of watering, but her plans were changing as she continued to put on a show for the camera. She was aware of its location. It hovered in one spot. To be that far away and see her, she thought, it must be equipped with some sort of zoom or something. It was amazing just how sophisticated these expensive models could be. She stood for a while, staring down at the area she’d just cleaned up. She looked as though she was admiring her work… she wasn’t. Although it had been a few years since she played tennis regularly, she had always had a really good backhand.

She strolled across to the shed where she found the shovel. She was aware of the tiny machine moving in for a closer look. She returned to an open patch of soil and began to dig. As she worked on the hole, she was keeping both her anger and her building excitement in check. When it was nice and deep she suddenly stood back, feigning surprise. As predicted, the thing drew closer.

With one swift movement, now looking directly at the drone for the first time, she used her backhand stroke. Sweeping the spade across her body she made contact with it, sending it flying across the garden where it hit the side of the shed with a loud bang. It fell to the ground, not moving.

She walked over and picked the crumpled remains of the filthy thing up. She didn’t like touching it, despite the fact that she was still wearing her garden gloves. She took it to the hole, dropped it in, filled it in, and with a well-deserved smile on her face she patted the soil down. She put the shovel back, removed her gloves, and took one last look at where she’d been weeding.

She then went back in and put the kettle on.

There could be no doubt that he was highly respected in the community.

He was widely regarded as a moderate and considerate man. Most saw him as a community leader. He received a tacit deference wherever he went and it was known that the city elders held him in the highest esteem. He was damn near worshiped by so many. To use the term ‘celebrity status’, would not be very wide of the mark. All of this is true. However, such things can be maddeningly transitory. They can disappear in a moment. They can all go in the twinkling of an eye. Sadly, this is how it went with our illustrious community member.

He really stuffed everything up big time the morning he ran over and killed the mayor’s dog.

It was late in the evening when the first phone call came.

He was in the ensuite bathroom brushing his teeth before going to bed, when he heard it ringing downstairs. He knew it was late. He pushed open the door and looked at the bedside clock; nearly midnight. He never received calls at this time of night and could only think it was bad news of some kind. No matter how urgent, there was no way he could get to it before it went to voicemail. He had the voicemail set to come on after thirty seconds; that was the devices maximum delay. This had been done on account of his recent fall and broken ankle. He would have to struggle back down and listen to the message, no matter how inconvenient. It really could be something serious.

He stood, biting down on his toothbrush, listening. It stopped, but no message followed. At least, he hadn’t heard one. Could he hear it from up here? He didn’t know. It had never happened before. He’d have to go down and check. He scowled at the thought. His ankle was certainly getting better, but it was still uncomfortable and slow, going up and down stairs. The doctor had suggested he take extra care on account of the fact that he lived alone. He took his time. At the machine he saw that, as he had guessed, no message had been left. He was laboriously making his way back up when it rang again. He moved back down as quickly as he could, quite convinced now that it was something that needed his attention. He picked up.

“Hello?” he said, in a whisper. Then stood wondering why he had dropped his voice. Maybe because it was now gone twelve. “Hello” he repeated, louder this time.

The voice on the other end said, “Are you there? I can hardly hear you.”

He cleared his throat, saying, “Yes I’m here, it’s just that it’s rather late and I wasn’t expecting…”

He was cut off. “Rather late? Look here, you’d better get your act together and quick smart. I’ve had to call you twice as it is. Have you got a pen and paper handy? You’d better write this down.”

“No. but…”

“Look! I’m only going to say this once. Get something to write this down and but me no buts… and be quick about it!”

“Yes. OK. I won’t be a moment.” He hobbled away and found what he needed. He came back, saying, “OK. I’m ready.”

“Good! I’ll read this out and I’ll speak slowly. Fifty thousand in used notes, all in fifties. Wrapped in newspaper and put in a black plastic rubbish bag, tied off with a double knot. Place it behind the rubbish skip at the rear of the furniture store in the high street between eleven-thirty and midnight tomorrow.” There came a slight pause. “And before you complain about the short notice, don’t bother, we know all about you. We know you can do it. Get this, don’t contact the police and come alone. We’ll be watching. Any mistakes and she dies!”

Having no idea what the caller was talking about, he said, “She dies? Did you say, she dies?”

There was a deep sigh and the phone went dead.

The one thing that should be said about her was that she was an extremely private person.

There can be no doubt that anonymity was her primary goal, along with maintaining a low profile, thus flying under the radar. She’d always gone to great lengths to keep her private life, private. In short, inconspicuousness was her middle name. Although this personal attribute was partly responsible for the path she trod, it’s hard to believe that the entire affair began with the woman simply waiting for a bus. As it turned out, the bus never came. A second look at the posted timetable told her that she had another hour to wait. Since she was in a town that she wasn’t familiar with, she decided to go for a stroll to kill time.

None of this really mattered, she had no other commitments that day, besides, nobody knew she was there, or why. In fact, she had gone there that day because the internet had told her that this town’s branch of her favourite bookshop had a copy of the travel-guide she wanted. Having this in the bag she was carrying meant that her trip was successful. Wandering through the town for a while suited her fine, after all, visiting new places was very much the thing she liked to do.

She had been meandering through a number of the town’s minor streets when she came across the small, second-hand shop. She decided to enter and look around at the curiosities that these businesses often had on offer.

As she walked in, her attention was immediately caught by a small, round, shiny, bright blue object. She had barely picked up the stone when the strange creature appeared at her elbow, giving it a gentle nudge.

“I’ve been trying to get rid of that for an age,” she said, in a thin, croaky voice.

She turned to see that the apparent owner was a small individual dressed in black, very thin and extremely old.

The old crone cackled and said, “Yes. This is unlucky for some and lucky for others. I think this might suit you, my dear. It is very cheap; for you it is very cheap”

Shrugging off her sense of repulsion, she asked, “What is it, exactly?”

At this, the owner replied, “Let’s call it a talisman. Yes, a talisman. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose so. What does it do, this talisman?”

The shop owner grinned. “Ah! There you have it, you see, there you have it.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Held in the fist, this will take you anywhere you want to go!”

She stood, turning the thing over in her hands, when the owner went on.

“You could go to any of the places in your book.”

Startled, the other said, “Book?”

“Yes, dear. The one you just bought, dear. The one in your bag. But don’t let any of this distract you. There are things I need to tell you, before you leave.”

It was at this point that the owner turned the sign over in the window and locked the door. She explained fully how the stone could be used. How, wherever in the world she wished to travel to, this had to be done without being seen. She recommended choosing isolated locations, such as a desert or a forest, but arriving in a busy crowd was best. When she wished to return, this too needed to be a private thing, such as a room in her house.

Considering the woman’s personal temperament, keeping things private came naturally. Her constant desire for remaining inconspicuous meant that the rules being imposed would not be difficult to follow. Agreement was struck and money changed hands.

A couple of hours later, back at home, she realised something… although the thought of such future travel adventures excited her, it wasn’t until she considered the practical nature of it that she realised that the book she had bought would be a wonderful source for choosing places to go, with lots of pretty, coloured pictures, but in itself, it wasn’t enough. To be able to arrive somewhere else, a precise somewhere else, would require something more than a simple travel-guide. She needed something with coordinates.

That evening she paid a visit to the library. After an extensive search on one of the provided laptops, she noted three such books. The best of them was The Book of World Geography, boasting precise information about time and climate zones, with latitudes and longitudes. She was told that it was a reference work only, to be read in the library and not taken out. Only under special circumstances could it be removed from the library. In such cases, a relevant form had to be filled out on the understanding that late fees where set at a much higher rate than for other books.

After pleading her case, based on how important it was for her research, the librarian produced the form. Although reluctant to fill it out, giving her personal details, something she normally avoided at all costs, she knew that it was going to be needed. When it was handed back, she was told that she could borrow it for the maximum period of two weeks, but no longer.

That night she used the guide, along with further information found on the internet, to create a list of all of the places she could visit. It would be just one day at a time, maybe taking the odd day off, with each visit being enough to take in the sights. That’s what it would be, an incredibly comprehensive sightseeing tour of the world!

By the early hours the list was complete. For the time being, she no longer needed the borrowed book. Her detailed notes contained more than sixty destinations, everything from Rome, Italy to Perth, Australia. She had earmarked the first seven or eight trips during the following twelve days. Absolutely dizzy with excitement, despite a short sleep, she was determined to start the following day. So, that is what she did. Over the eight days that followed, she managed to take in six countries, enjoying the wonders and sights that each had to offer.

Sadly, it was on that eighth day that things went awry.

It just so happened that she was in North-eastern China, on a cable car, gazing out at the beautiful landscape and the river that ran below, when she rather impetuously felt that she’d had enough and decided to return unobtrusively to her room at home. She retrieved the amulet from its reinforced pocket and held it tightly in her fist. It was at this very moment that the cable car lurched violently to a shuddering halt. As a result, like many others, she was thrown forward causing her to make a grab for the safety rail. Unhappily, this sudden movement, together with a tiny nudge of her elbow from a fellow occupant, had her unclench her hand and release the stone.

She peered down and watched in horror as the precious thing fell silently the great distance to the mighty river below, where it could be barely seen making a tiny splash.

It was this single incident that brought her wonderful travel adventures to an abrupt end. However, this calamity, being pretty bad, had other repercussions.

Despite her passion for complete anonymity, any inconspicuousness that drove her became a pipedream when it transpires that the weekly accrual of fines for not returning the book by its due date will, in time, accumulate to such a huge amount that both this figure, together with her name will inevitably take its rightful place in the Guinness Book of Records.

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.