Author: Alexander Fawn

He felt a good deal of relief when directed towards the queue forming at the Pearly Gates.
When he finally reached the front, Saint Peter removed a sheet from the file. After looking the man over, he began to read, “A lot of rudeness as a child, several cases of very bad swearing, several speeding fines, instigating a bar fight, stealing money from a locker at a sports centre.”
He sighed and read on. “Theft of a vehicle, burglary, forgery, arson, distribution of illegal drugs and attempted murder…”
He looked up with raised eyebrows. “I must say, there’s been a lot of leniency shown in your case. I’m surprised, we normally avoid bias.”
He looked back down.
“What’s this repetitive item that’s been flagged here?”
He found a footnote at the bottom of the page.
He read, “…continually leaving the toilet lid up.”
He looked up. “What is it with you people?”
The man shrugged.
The reject stamp hitting the paper made him jump.

Whenever he wanted to listen to the news he would load a cassette into his player.
He would listen when he was on the train on his way in to work and often during his lunch break. He liked to keep up with events, both locally and around the world. Most of the time he would use his Bluetooth ear piece, but on those occasions when he was on his own he would use his player like a radio. He was on his midday break doing this, in his corner of the office, when the receptionist happened to walk through. She was intrigued with the item she heard that involved a young boy being rescued from a rocky part of the coast, where he had fallen in. She approached him about the news item.
“Hi!” she began, “I heard that news item about the boy being saved, I hadn’t heard about it. Where did it happen?”
He put his sandwich down and wiped his mouth with a tissue. “I’m not really sure, exactly, but it was local, I know that.”
“Wow! That’s interesting. When did it happen?”
He tilted the player so he could read the label. “About three years ago, I’d say.” He saw the puzzled look on her face. “Ah! OK. I should explain. It’s not live news. I like hearing the news, but I stopped listening to the regular broadcasts because so much of it was bad. Bad news, I mean.”
She was smiling and nodding slowly. “So, this is a compilation, is it?”

“Right on!” he said. He opened his case and held up a cassette. “At first,” he went on, “I just handed them out to any family members or friends that wanted one, but after that word about them spread and they became popular, so I started charging.” He chuckled to himself. “I’ve been collecting good news items almost daily for the past five or six years. You know, people being rescued, like this one, mutually successful trade agreements between governments, improvements in health delivery, advances in technology, peace agreements, successful trials of new medications, and so on. Then, I load them onto cassettes. There’s quite an extensive range of them now. I have a website. They’re selling like hot cakes!”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll buy one.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I won’t?”
Handing it to her, he winked and said, “No. For you, it’s free.”

This morning, like other mornings, he is in the kitchen with his mug.

He is subliminally aware of what he’s doing. He carries the mug, warming his hands. The computer boots with his favourite scene. A holiday with the family. The beach, the trees, the cliffs; a great photo. Emails need to be checked; a few minutes only. He glances out the window. He appreciates the view of the garden and smiles at the thought that it is maintained by the hands of others. He opens his favourite card game. He loses some and wins others. The morning goes quickly and he feels hunger. He eats and considers a stroll outside. He decides not. The afternoon passes in similar fashion. He notes the hour on the clock on the nearby wall and he rises.
He leaves the office and makes his way home.

It was just another day in the city.
She had woken early that morning, for no apparent reason. This usually turned out to be an omen, telling her that it wouldn’t be a good day for her. On the way in, she had to wait for a second bus; the first was full. This was some kind of confirmation. Although in her early twenties, she had learnt to listen to these feelings and validate them. She had always had premonitions, small ones, not something to go around telling people about. When she found a notice on the coffee machine, saying it was out of order, that was the clincher. She filled her mug with water and went back to her desk. She was looking through a backlog of paperwork when the manager appeared.

He coughed. “A touch late.”
She smile up at him. “Sorry. First bus was full.”
He nodded. “OK. You look as though you have a bit of catching up to do. I’ll leave you to it.” He gave a quick grimace and left.
He was generally seen as a pompous little man who could do with going on a diet by those around her. He wasn’t liked. Although, she had never personally had a problem with him. She liked her job and wanted to keep it. She carried on shuffling papers, setting her priorities.
After a few minutes of handling work she looked out at the city. It happened to be a great view. She was lucky to get a window seat. The weather looked good, but… she didn’t know what she was feeling, but she knew not to dismiss it.
She whispered to herself, “Somethings wrong out there,” and carried on with her work. Only a few minutes later, she stopped and stared out again. She wondered if she had left something on, back in her room, or whether there was something she had forgotten to do, maybe out there, shopping or something…
She was still gazing out when the manager came back. He gave another cough. He was looking down at the paperwork spread out across her desk. “You don’t seem to be making much progress. Is there something wrong?”
Before she could stop herself, she said, “Yes, something.” She looked around, suddenly aware of his presence. She clasped her hands together. “Sorry, had a feeling… that something was wrong.” She pointed at the paperwork. “I’ll get on with it,” she said resolutely. He sighed and walked away. She made an earnest effort to catch up with her work. She told herself that she wouldn’t look out of the window again until her desk was clear.
This all changed a little later.
Everyone in the office ran over to the windows when the first tower was hit.

He sat in his comfy old armchair with his eyes closed.

In the hall, the noisy timeworn clock put out a sombre tick-tock, tick-tock. A sound that for him declared a sad, ‘come-back, come-back’. It had been this way since she left. With every cycle of the unseen mechanism came the haunting mantra. Its message was for her. He heard it clearly. ‘Come-back, come-back.’ Each time it repeated the same request, the same pleading chant. It was a hopeless toll that offered no promise, no consolation. There was no comfort in it, only a heartfelt plea. A yearning to turn back time; to make everything right again. More than three decades had passed since everything was right. ‘Come-back, come-back.’ He had never understood why she left.
If she ever returns… he’ll ask.

The figure behind the dumpster stirred.
He made his way to the park. He liked the park because he often thought how much it reminded him of home. Which was strange, because he had no memory of where that was. He found people were easier to remember than places. He passed a man opening a packet and lighting up. He didn’t bother asking. People don’t come up with cigarettes so easily anymore. He checked his pockets for money as he ambled. Found nothing. He remembered the day paper money was pressed into his hand by a complete stranger. People were funny.
He mused a lot.
The pizza shop across from the park smelled as good as ever. He crossed the road as quickly as he could, avoiding the smell. He would do his best to ignore his hunger. Two days ago he found chicken and chips in a cardboard container. There may even be a few chips left. He’d have to check.
He found a bench and had a lie down.
He pondered over the time some random guy had asked him how long he’d been living this life, and how he couldn’t tell him. The guy didn’t believe him. Seemed really disappointed. Tough! On that occasion he had turned and walked away quickly. In the main, other people didn’t bother him. Most of the time they ignored him; they saw that he was there, that he existed, but then, having summed him up, they ignored him. That was fine. He was ok with that.
He sat up.
A woman saw him scratching and glared. He thought nothing of it; went back to musing. He had a vague memory of owning a dog once. It must have been a long time ago. His stomach rumbled. He ignored it. He had half a cold hamburger yesterday; that should hold him. He would have to start begging again; money was running out. Not today though. Today was… what was today? Probably weekend; lots of kids about.
He walked on.
He realised he was rubbing his eyes a lot. His hands were pretty dirty. He should find somewhere to at least rinse them off. He remembered how his mother had lots of eye trouble. A kid went by holding three balloons. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever had a colour test. He wasn’t sure how good his eyes were. He decided that there was a lot of greyness around.
He could feel his body aching.
He sat down for a spell on a low wall. He tried holding his breath while he counted up to fifty, or towards fifty; he lost count and tried again. He did this twice; he finally gave up. He did a bit of panting, just for fun. He looked on as a teenager operated a small boat with a remote control. He stared at the ducks, gliding on the pond. He tried counting them and gave up. He thought about how he would never have a grave stone. Ever since he was a kid he’d wanted one. He pulled a twig off a bush and scratched some random marks in the flower bed.
He got up.
On his way back he tried to make a couple of philosophical points with a traffic warden. The attempt failed. He wasn’t sure why he bothered. He knew he did it from time to time, with perfect strangers. He didn’t know why. For him, the hours of the day pass quickly. He noticed that the town was starting to empty. He’d done the park and the pond and a couple of local streets. Pickings hadn’t been very good at the local bins.
With another day done, he went back to his spot behind the dumpster.
He was exhausted.

He had heard that the agency had a reputation for providing high paying jobs.
He sent them a copy of his curriculum vitae and made an appointment. On the day, he put on his best clothes and turned up a few minutes early. He was determined to give the best possible impression. At the reception desk, the woman made a note of his attendance and told him to take a seat. She said the manager would be out to meet him in a few minutes. He sat looking around. It certainly looked like a high-class establishment. Moments later, the agency’s interviewer appeared and called him into his office.
Once they were both seated, the man explained. “As you’re new to the agency, I have to ask, what sort of work are you looking for?”
“OK. As you can see from my curriculum vitae, I do have an impressive skill set, I think my best fit would be to move straight into a senior role.”
The interviewer looked back down at the CV. He picked it up and began reading through it carefully, nodding slowly. “Yes, I thought so,” he said, adjusting his computer screen. “Just give me a minute,” he said, as he began tapping on his keyboard.
After a while, he said, “Here it is. This is a senior role with a most prestigious company. It comes with a high salary, a generous executive bonus scheme, a company car and an excellent medical cover scheme.”
The interviewee was speechless for a few beats, before blurting out, “Wow! You’ve got to be kidding!”
As the interviewer slumped back in his chair, he said, “Of course I am… but you started it!”

Each day allowed him time to continue with his latest story.
This was going to be another bestseller. The worldwide success of his books and his international reputation, as a much read writer, allowed him to live in luxury. This book would maintain his current lifestyle. He continued writing… The house was in darkness when he arrived. She said it would be empty. She was right. Before he could enter using the key, he would also have to disarm the security system. Following her instructions this all went well, and within minutes he was standing in the front hall. His torch went on. It was a large house, but there was only one room that interested him. Upstairs, third door on the right. The master bedroom. The walk-in robe with its hanging plastic shoe pockets. Fifth pair of men’s shoes down. Brown brogues. Right hand shoe with the written combination for next time the house owner had a mental block with regards the safe’s combination. This was something the woman said was happening more often, now.

He had no idea how those who had hired him knew so much about the man’s affairs, but he didn’t need to know any of that. He just needed to get in, remove the jewellry from the safe and leave without disturbing anything. She had assured him that the place would stay empty for several weeks.
He was startled by a sudden…
The writer thought he would leave it there for a while. He clicked on save. The typing stick fell from between his teeth onto the table and he sipped water through a straw. He looked at the clock. Shower time soon. The only time he was free from his straightjacket.

They usually caught up, at least on one day of the weak.
When he had called at his house that afternoon he was out. His wife had told him where he was. They chatted briefly before he left. While there, his wife had told him that her husband had taken to a new mode of worship. Knowing that they were a religious couple he thought nothing of it. As he made his way to the church he thought about how intense his friend’s considerations were, regarding religion, compared with his own. When he entered the church he saw that only three people were there. He found his friend at the back of the church, deep in prayer. He sat off to one side for a while. He felt uncomfortable with the idea of interrupting him.

A few minutes passed and the man in prayer seemed to straighten up. He rolled his shoulders and looked around. He looked surprised to see his friend sitting close by, but his face soon broadened to a smile. The other quietly moved across and sat down beside him.
“I called in and was told I’d find you here,” he said.
“Yes, sorry. I wanted to make the most of it here, while it was quiet, I mean.”
“I thought it was a bit unusual. Your wife mentioned that your level of worship had changed.” He grimaced. “My words, not hers.”
“No. You’re right. It has changed.”
“How’s that, then?”
He looked around furtively. “I’ve found a new deity,” he whispered.
His friend was surprised. “A new one, you say.”
“Yes. It’s very exciting. Who would have believed it? I mean, I was just praying, the way I normally do, nothing out of the ordinary, when I found myself communicating with a completely new and unknown deity!”
“OK. Tell me more.”
The man shrugged. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, like what’s the name of this deity?”
The man looked around again. “It doesn’t have a name. Don’t you see? There is no name. If there was, it would mean that anybody could worship it.”
With raised eyebrows, his friend said, “Fascinating… I suppose.”
“Oh! Yes, fascinating, as you say. The thing is, you see, apart from me, no one knows of its existence. Nobody else worships it because they don’t know that this deity exists.” He smiled and touched the side of his nose. “My mode of prayer is completely private.”
After a short time of silence, the friend whispered. “I’ll call on you later this week, but in the meantime I’ll leave you in peace. OK?”
“OK,” said the man, closing his eyes and bowing his head.
He left the church quietly and made his way home.
As he walked, deep in thought, he was slowly coming to terms with the idea of a nameless God!

It had been a month since the blast.
When it came, using the newly developed destruction technology, the super-atomic blast set off a chain reaction that no one could have predicted. It set in motion a fiery wave that over a couple of days enveloped the planet. It left the entire surface incinerated. No buildings were left standing and no vegetation survived. The devastation was complete, with bomb shelters across all continents proving useless against the global destruction… save one.
Theirs was deeper than any of the other structures that were described in the brochures. He’d hired a bobcat and created a pit three times deeper than the foundations of anything else on the market. Maybe it was just a case of simple paranoia on his part. Either way, she had let him spend months doing it.
After several long discussions about whether it was safe to emerge, they made the exhausting climb up the rungs inside the tube that connected their shelter to the upper world. They came out confronting the wasteland. It was dusk, but the landscape was visible enough to let them know what they were dealing with; what they would have to do to survive. If survival was at all possible. The stars were still there! Despite there being strange odours in the air, they had no problem breathing and the temperature was reasonable. For this reason they decided to lay on the blackened soil and sleep the night.
The next day, with the sun rising, he went for a walk. This being his regular habit before mankind had ruined the world. On his return he found her awake and told her of his discovery. She was intrigued, and happily followed him to the spot where he had found it.
A tree! A solitary tree, standing in the vast grey desert that the holocaust had left behind. Even more remarkable was the fact that it bore a piece of fruit!
“That’s amazing,” she said.
“I know,” he replied. “It’ll make a nice change from all that canned food. We’ll share it.” He went to pick the shiny apple.

“Hold on,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“I’m not sure…” she said.