Author: Alexander Fawn

She was dusting the photos along the shelf when she picked one up and paused.

It was a picture taken of her uncle just a few weeks before his funeral. She had never been one of his favourites. She remembers how he would bring a small present, all nicely wrapped, for her older sister, whenever he visited. Never anything for her. He would give her sister pocket money sometimes, saying that she was a little too young for that yet. Although, as time went on, this didn’t change. Always something for her sister, and nothing for her.

A sneer crossed her face. She spat on the picture, then cleaned up the glass with her cloth. She thought about him. He had died of some sort of food poisoning. It was never really determined what it was that killed him. She sighed and thought about it. Thought about how he was quite old when it happened. She shook her head.

She should have done it earlier…

It has to be said that he had an obsession with taking selfies.

This, in itself, could almost be regarded as normal behaviour, but what he had discovered by trawling through the dark web was something else entirely. The apparatus he ordered was more than just the regular infinity mirror, which was basically just a couple of mirrors that faced each other. When you stood between them the reflection would not only become smaller and smaller, but gradually ebb away into what seemed to be infinity.

There was a room like this on the pier. People walked in through a series of cleverly positioned mirrors. However, what he was looking at now was not like this. No, this was different. This promised the ultimate selfie. If the instructions were followed carefully and to the letter, he could move beyond the image, way past the restraints of three dimensional space and time, move into the limitless expanse of perpetuity and the boundless continuum of endless infinitude.

When it arrived he spent a lot of time reading through the complex series of instructions before considering how he could put it all into practice. Then, it came to him. He realised he could take the device into the photo booth at the end of the pier. Nobody would take any notice. Visitors to the small seaside town were always popping in for a holiday snap. Who would notice him using it? Who would care? Nobody. He would need to strap all the paraphernalia to his back. He needed to build a simple harness of some sort.

When all this was done, he made his way to the end of the pier, passed the amusement arcade, looking like any other holidaymaker. He casually entered the booth. It took a few minutes to set it up. Then, with mounting excitement, he pressed the button.

The flash was much brighter than usual.

He never came out.

The boys were identical twins.

Nobody could tell them apart, not even their parents. They had always had great fun pretending to be one another. They often used this to trick people, especially their teachers and school friends. It was this constant sharing of these playful deceptions that brought them close together. For this reason they deliberately combed their hair the same way, wore the same outfits and more generally maintain similar body language to the degree that it made it just about impossible to say which one was which. These deceptions, many of which went by unnoticed, were played out over a number of years. Being activities that gave them both a lot of entertainment, they happily kept them going. Over the years they shared this common goal of keeping people guessing.

However, the enjoyment and the camaraderie that these pranks afforded them came to an abrupt and troublesome end when they were in their middle teens. One of them, it has never been established which one, asked the other to buy a lottery ticket for him while he was at the shops. When it was drawn, the ticket that had been purchased won first prize; a huge jackpot figure. It was a life-changer for one of them. It should have been a time of celebration. Instead, it became an issue that would cause a great deal of anxiety and anger for their parents, many of those around them, and themselves. It was never determined which one of them actually paid for the ticket.

As deceptions go, it did bring to light the fact that, for them, sharing has its limits.

Hub-a-tub tub,

Three drunks in a pub,

What are they each about?

A plumber,

A slater,

A crane operator,

Throw all the boozers out!

He received a letter.

It was from the PC Section of the Motor Vehicle Division within the Department of Transport. It said that he was required to attend their offices for a brief appointment owing to an administrative issue regarding his motor vehicle licence. He was asked to take documentation to confirm vehicle ownership, his current licence and three forms of personal identification. He knew only too well how ‘Johnny Public’ was being hit with this kind of irritating bureaucratic red tape. He felt that there seemed to be a lot of this sort of thing going on of late. Anyway, regardless of how he actually felt about it, he presented himself at the nominated time. First, his paperwork was checked and after refusing the offer of tea or coffee, he was ushered into a small waiting room. He was the only one there. The appointment would indeed be brief.

After a few minutes he couldn’t help noticing that the building’s heating system must be playing up, as he was beginning to sweat. It was at this point that he got up and used the cool water dispenser in the corner of the room to fill a small plastic cup. Checking the time and muttering to himself, he sat back down, drinking it. He quickly fell asleep.

What actually happened after this, within the confines of the PC Section, was a threefold series of activities. First, the body bag, followed by the unmarked delivery van at the rear loading bay, and finally the missing persons notice being issued a few days later.

It was only a few who knew that PC actually stood for population control…

She knew how much her son liked jumble sales.

The trouble was, he tended to wander off. There was always the fear that he would do it one day and get lost, but today she thought he was old enough to walk around on his own. She said he could do this, but only if he stayed inside the building and looked to see where she was from time to time. With this agreement, he began looking at all the things laid out on tables around the room. There was such a lot to look at. If, as in the past, he found something that he really liked, she would sometimes buy it for him. He moved along to a table that was covered with small items. An old man with a white beard stood behind the table and watched him pick up a small box and look inside. There were several rings in it. He took them out one at a time. They were all far too big for him. He had a large brass ring that only fitted loosely over his thumb, when the man said. “Do you like it?”

The boy said, “No… I don’t think so.”

“Is that right?” came the reply.

The boy shrugged.

The man went on with a small voice, “What you have there, my lad, is a ‘future-ring’. There are not many of them around, I can tell you that.”

The boy’s interest was piqued. “What does it do?”

The man chuckled. “It shows you the future. That’s what it does!”

The boy looked confused.

The man held out his hand. “Let me show you how it works.” He took it and raised it up to his old, smiling face, saying, “You hold it like this. You hold it up to your eye and look through it to see the future. It doesn’t work every time, mind you. You have to get it just right.”

He handed it back and the boy looked at it more intently this time.

“Tell you what,” the man said, “that one’s free today.”

The boy was thrilled. He looked up and blurted out, “Thanks.” He rushed off to find his mother.

When told about it she looked back at the old man and gave him her own wave of thanks. They were running out of time, so she said she would have a good look at it when they got home.

When they arrived back, she made a cup of tea for herself and a fruit juice for him. Then, smiling at her son’s obvious excitement about his new treasure, she clapped her hands, softly. “Now then,” she began, “tell me more about this wonderful thing that the kind man gave you for nothing.”

He showed her. “The man said it was a future ring.”

“Oh! Did he now?”

“Yes.”

“Does it work?”

“Sometimes.”

“Let me see.” He handed it to her. She put it to her eye and looked through it at her son. She smiled as she gave it back and gave him a big hug.

When she’d finished squeezing him, he asked, “What did you see?”

“The future,” she said.

It reposes unseen.

It sits quietly in the forest, a lasting reminder of the Buddha, neither disturbing nor being disturbed. It looks as though it has been here a long time, but nature has been kind to it. Soft green tendrils lay across its shoulders. Its round face beams. It has been placed here, quite deliberately, beneath this ancient tree. The statue sits in silence under its great expanse of branches and shade giving leaves. It is a place of tranquillity, where it rests peacefully in silent harmony with nature. No doubt it has weathered all seasons as they passed. The changes have only heightened this thing of beauty. It has probably watched generations come and go.

Very few visitors come through this piece of aging woodland, with its thick entanglement of undergrowth. If they do, it may have briefly glimpsed humanity’s endurance. It has not been discovered.

It remains unseen.

This wasn’t his regular library, but he needed to keep up his reading. He was looking at the blurb on the back cover of a book, when a group of customer’s came in together. At least he thought they were customers at first, but they seemed to be together. This was despite the fact that their dress was so individual; each being radically different from all the others. The six men wandered into the central open area. He watched them as they settled around a table, then looked across to the front enquiry counter and raised his eyebrows. The man behind made a similar face and cautiously beckoned him over.

“Strange looking mob. Who are they?”

“Debating Club.”

“Wow! That’s interesting.” He looked back at them. “What do they debate?”

The librarian’s face fell. “Religion.”

“Oh! So, they’d be from different religions then?”

“They certainly are.” He produced a clip board. “Of course, I shouldn’t give out their names, but let me see… yes, they represent Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism and Atheism.”

“Well, I think that’s marvellous!”

“You do, do you?”

“I guess so; people of different belief systems coming together like this. There should be more of it.”

“Ha!”

“What, you don’t think so?”

The librarian grimaced and shook his head. He moved closer. “They’re on notice.”

“On notice?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

The librarian spoke softer. “Yep. Last month it got ugly.”

“It did?”

“Caused a lot of damage. Had to call the police.”

“Oh!”

“They’ve been given one last chance.”

“Right,” said the man, looking over at the group and seeing that they had started their discussion. A hand came down on the table with a loud slap.

“It’s started,” said the librarian.

“You know, I don’t think it ever stopped,” said the man… and left quietly.

The two men had always gone on their adventures together.

The fact that one was blind and the other mute had never impeded their friendship. In fact, between them and together, they adequately managed most of life’s difficulties. Their latest adventure is of particular interest here. They were in Greece looking for a cave. Apparently, a place where no locals would dare to venture. When they found it, the blind and the mute entered the cave. As they went deeper into the cavern holding hands, Mute leading Blind of course, they became aware of a strange rustling noise. This, they both heard, naturally. They stood very still, listening to a sound that seemed to be coming closer.

“Can you see what’s making that sound?” Said Blind to Mute.

No answer came, obviously.

“Tap my shoulder if you can see anything,” said Blind.

No tap came. Mute now stood; a column of stone.

Blind stepped forward with an extended arm. To his surprise, he caught hold of a hand. It was quite small and soft.

“Well now,” said Blind, “what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

She stood stirring the pot; this was her final solution.

It had been a rollercoaster of a day. First there was the big rush to get him to the airport. His usual bad temper, as though she was to blame for him running late. She had driven him there as quickly and as safely as possible. Naturally, he had rushed off without a thank you.

Then there was the item all over the radio on the way home and the television news coverage about his plane coming down not long after take-off. There were no survivors.

She had sat, staring at the screen, sobbing. No more sudden anger. No more slaps followed by profuse apologies. She had curled up on the sofa and let the tears of relief fall.

Then, there was his phone call from the airport.

He had missed his flight and was heading for a taxi. There was the same old anger in his voice.

She returned the small blue bottle to the garden shed then came back and laid the table.

He’d be so pleased; homemade Mulligatawny soup, his favourite.

She looked at the clock and went back to stirring the pot.