Author: Alexander Fawn

She couldn’t remember a day in the office that had been as busy.

She was feeling completely overwhelmed. There were meetings to attend, minutes to type up, reports to send out, emails to answer, accounts to check, numerous spread sheets to update, and, naturally, endless phone calls.

She turned her face to the window and squeezed her eyes shut. In her head, she shouted, for pity’s sake make it all stop! The phone rang.

When it was time to leave, she joined the rush to get out of the carpark. She battled her way through the crowded city traffic and finally entered the freeway. As she entered, a sign lit up saying, ‘EXPECT LENGTHY DELAYS”.

Within minutes the traffic in all lanes came to a complete halt. Everything had stopped. In the distance she could see a bunch of red flashing lights.

Within just a few short moments her frustration melted away to a sense of pure tranquillity.

Her prayer had been granted.

He found her lying in the street.

He was on his way home at the time. Having just got off the bus, he was taking his usual short cut to the back of his apartment block. It was a quiet street with poor lighting, but he saw her as soon as he turned into it. She was dressed in some kind of thin, white dress; not enough to keep the cold out; that was for sure. He knew that laying there on such a cold night meant the she had to be unconscious. As he crouched down beside her, he could make out dark patches on the back of her dress. As he leant over she opened her eyes and smiled. He helped her up.

“What happened?” he asked, with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

She seemed a little dazed. “I fell,” she said.

He shuddered with the cold. “I’m right here,’ he said, pointing at the building.

She nodded.

He had a ground floor apartment and they were soon inside; her sitting, him boiling a kettle. “I’ll make us hot drinks,” he grinned, “and I won’t ask too many questions if you don’t want me too.”

Again, she only nodded.

He was arranging cups when he said, “There’s a shower through there. It’ll probably make you feel better.” With a degree of awkwardness, he put a hand to his heart. “I promise, you’d be perfectly safe.”

“I know,” she said. She got up and made her way through.

He called out, “There’s a heavy dressing gown on the back of the door, please help yourself,”

He would wait until she was out before making drinks. He sat, listening to the shower hissing and trying to imagine how it had all come about. He realised that he hadn’t asked her if she was hurt. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask.

The shower stopped and a few minutes later she returned, dressed in the gown and looking better. She sat down, saying, “Thank you for your kindness.”

He went back to making drinks. He called out, “I should have asked; how’s your back?”

There was silence for a beat. “You saw?”

“Yes, patches of something. If needed, I can get you to the hospital.”

She said, “No, thank you.”

“OK. Or a doctor, if it’s just something that needs to be looked at.”

“No, I’m fine,” she called back.

He brought the drinks through and without thinking, lifted the collar of her gown back. What he saw made him freeze. The great gashes running down her back! The congealing blood! He knew what he was looking at.

He sat down and looked hard, for the first time, into her lovely face. “I know,” he said. “I know what you are… the gashes; where the wings have been ripped off.” His eyes watered, “You’re a fallen angel.”

She lowered her head. “Yes.”

“How?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“You committed some sin?”

She nodded.

“It must have been something terrible.”

She looked up. “No. Not really. You wouldn’t think so. You have to understand, we have much higher standards than you.”

“Can’t you make amends in some way?”

She shook her head. “That’s not possible.”

He leant forward. “What happens now?”

She leant forward as well. “It’s best if you don’t know; it’s best if you don’t know any of this”. With a smile she said, “Thank you again for your kindness.” With that, she tapped the back of his hand…

…as he turned into the back street, an icy wind hit him. He paused shuddering. He walked on faster.

He couldn’t wait to get in.

Word had got around that the new treatment was a panacea.

It was regarded as a miracle cure. One simple jab and whatever the patient was suffering from was fixed. It simply went away. There had been such a lot of publicity about the clinic opening and the new drug being made available that a large crowd had formed outside the building they had hired in order to begin their programme of instant wellness. The miracle man, that being the term used by the press, had set up a room for a speedy turnaround of patients. They were being ushered into the room and seated, while his assistant provided a constant supply of syringes, topped up with the amazing liquid.

However, on the day the clinic opened its doors, things didn’t go so well.

“Next,” said the miracle man, and the assistant brought in the next patient. After settling him in the chair, the injection was administered.

Within seconds of receiving it, the man fell out of the chair, twitched momentarily, then lay still.

The miracle man said, “Drat! Not another one.”

The assistant, kneeling next to the body, said, “He’s not breathing.”

“Put him with the others,” came the reply.

With that, the miracle man went to the door and shouted, “Next!”

Since his school days he had been a keen photographer.

His website was continually being updated with photos. The site was devoted to flowers in the main. Occasionally he would take pictures of bushes, trees or even landscapes, but his love was for examples of flowers in bloom, with their bright colours and delicate shapes. He would spend time getting the lighting and the focus just right. The result of this being that most people in his street and beyond would know of his site and would often tell him how interesting it was. These admirers included the couple next door, especially her. She was known to continually gush about how beautiful his photos were. This, in itself was not a bad thing. However, listening to her did have its down side.

Whenever the woman said something really complimentary about his images, she would invariably end with the comment, ‘you must have a good camera.’ Over time, this phrase became nothing short of infuriating. Being neighbours, he had always managed to let these things pass.

This was the case until he was in the front garden considering whether a particular flower was ready to be captured when the couple turned up in their car. Getting out, they came to the low dividing fence and began chatting. It didn’t take long before compliments began to fly about a series of shots taken at their local park that had recently been posted. Inwardly, he readied himself for the inevitable. It came as she turned to go into the house.

When she had gone, he leant on the fence, and said, “I bet your wife is a good cook.”

Somewhat taken aback by the comment, the man hesitated briefly before proudly stating, “Oh! Yes, she is.”

The other nodded, and as he turned to go in, he said, “She must have first class kitchen utensils.”

He went in quickly, leaving the comment hanging…

The new woman joining the hospital’s records department was being shown the ropes.

The morning was taken up with the department’s manager explaining the clerical duties for the records clerk. During their lunch break, the manager suggested that she gave the new staff member a tour of the grounds. After a long walk they found a bench and the two women sat down to eat what they had brought out with them. The new woman gazed out across the expanse of lawns and gardens.

“Nice grounds,” she remarked.

“Yes. The new gardener is very good.” After a short pause, the manager said, “The last one was a bit of a grump and to be honest, a lousy gardener.”

The woman was surprised. “Really?”

“Yeh. He was with us for over thirty years, can you believe that? Hardly did a thing. Every time brown patches began to show up on the lawns they had to talk him in to doing some watering. Which amounted to him bothering to turn the reticulation on. He was hopeless.”

She stopped to bite into a sandwich.

“He hardly ever did any weeding,” she continued, “and the flowerbeds looked awful. As far as I know, in all the years I’ve been here, he never did any pruning or hedge trimming. The new guy has been busy trimming them all. They look nice, don’t they?”

“They do.”

The manager looked around.

“When he passed away, he left a very generous donation in his will, well over a million I’m told. He requested that a memorial for him be placed in the grounds.”

“Oh! I don’t remember seeing that.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” She dropped her voice. “That’s it over there.” She nodded back over her shoulder.

The other woman peered around.

“It’s the compost bin in the corner. If you look closely you’ll see his initials scratched on the lid.”

The doorbell rang every few seconds, constantly.

The elderly homeowner, not known for having a happy disposition, finally staggered to the front door in pyjamas and dressing gown. He dragged it open slowly and found a young man holding up a leaflet. The local council elections had come around again and a number of enthusiastic volunteers were canvassing the neighbourhood. This particular caller was new to the work, but felt he could bring a new and refreshing slant to the way people are approached. He let the slim pamphlet flutter a little in the air.

“This leaflet is all you’ll need, to make the right choice!” he crooned, grinning big time.

The man scowled. “You woke me up for this?”

Undeterred and still grinning, the other said, “Absolutely, it’s vital that you are part of the decision process.”

“As I say, you woke me up,” he grumbled.

The other checked the time and raised an eyebrow, “Are you sick or something?”

“Not sick… but I have a condition.”

“Condition?”

“Yes, it’s called old age.”

The younger man scoffed. “Look, you can’t use that as an excuse, this election is important. We all have to pull our weight, you know?

The old man’s face was colouring up and his eyes began to water. “I… I…” he spluttered, too exasperated to form words.

“I’ll just leave you a leaflet then, eh?”

“No! I don’t want a leaflet.”

The young man looked amazed. “Surely, just taking a leaflet isn’t going to do you any harm.”

Pushing the door to, the old man said, “Just go away!”

The door slammed.

The volunteer waited a full minute before ringing the doorbell again and pushing a couple of leaflets through the letterbox.

Things had been a bit shaky between them of late.

She had her suspicions, that’s all she had, but that all changed the day she was about to put a load of washing on and found the receipt. He had always been a bit clumsy. This was a perfect example. Leaving it, screwed up, in his trouser pocket. She sat down with it. It was from the most expensive jewellers in town, and the price! She knew who it was bought for. It was the girl from human resources. He thought she hadn’t noticed the looks they were giving each other at the Christmas party. She’d had enough! That afternoon, on her way back from the shops she called in at the hardware store and bought a bottle of sulfuric acid drain cleaner.

He knew things had been a bit rocky between them recently. He had considered taking her out for a surprise dinner one evening, but he wanted to do something more immediate. Something to show just how much he really loved her. He had found the pearl neckless during a lunch break. He knew she would love it. On the way home, he just couldn’t wait to give it to her. As he went through the front door, a waft of delicious cooking smells hit him. Lasagne! His favourite. He loved the way she always spiced it up with a bit of curry. He suddenly realised how hungry he was.

Maybe he’d eat first.

How naturally they enter the mind’s realm,

Lending shape to spirit and soul.

Some from within, some from without.

Some bring comfort, some fear.

Some have been known to change the world.

Some, far better left unsaid.

–

Thoughts and feelings bringing reason.

Bold or foolhardy they come.

Some checkered, others not.

Hatched somewhere before they enter the mind,

And all bringing their own questions.

–

Do they invoke some gravitational pull to clarity?

Is their value only deemed?

Can both the strong and the weak have the same intrinsic value?

Does their equity prove their worth?

Each being born from knowingness.

Some never flowing into words.

–

Can they be a beacon in a darkness of thoughts?

Does the mind shape these, or do they shape the mind?

Do they shape the world?

Or does the world, as it is, shape and give life to them?

Through the complexity of the brain, do they unify?

Do they, not people, rule the world?

His life seemed to be one continuous stream of disappointments.

Some people say that life is full of disappointments. If anybody knows how true this is, he does. For him, his entire life has been one thing after another; an endless string of things going wrong. The latest ignominy was when they sent him here to this place. He didn’t like it. He wanted to stay in the house. He was comfortable there. He could have taken care of himself; he told them that, over and over again, but they wouldn’t listen. They kept saying that a home is the best place for him.

So, here he is, wriggling around in an uncomfortable bed and looking around at a room that he really didn’t like. They said this was the best they could find. He had grave doubts about that! On top of it all, just to make matters worse, that potty woman in the next room was playing her horrible brass band music again.

All of a sudden, it stopped.

In fact, the whole place went eerily silent. Something must have happened. He struggled out of bed and got into his dressing gown and slippers. Out in the hall, he listened for a bit. Not a sound anywhere. Every room he passed was empty. He soon found that the whole place was empty. He made his way along to the common room. Nobody there!

He stood thinking for a minute. Maybe there had been a fire alert and he hadn’t heard it. Maybe everybody had to evacuate the building. That would explain it. If that’s the case, where did they all go? He went to the notice board, there should be something there about where the muster point is. No, but he spotted the death notices. He squinted at it shaking his head.

They’d spelt his name wrong.

He was driving through town when he heard a loud knocking noise coming from the car.

He instinctively slowed down and was about to say something when a schoolboy ran across the road in front of him. He braked and watched as the boy disappeared down the street. At that moment a police officer suddenly approached the car and tapped on his window. He was smiling and gesturing for the driver to lower his window.

He did this and asked, “Is anything wrong, officer?”

Still smiling, the policeman said, “On the contrary, sir, I have observed your driving manners and have to compliment you on your community attitude.”

The man, taken aback, let out a surprised, “Oh?”

“Yes,” the policeman went on, “as you are no doubt aware, this is a school zone and not only did you begin to slow down just before the zebra crossing, but you braked in time to allow that boy to cross. Of course, he was not crossing the road safely by using the crossing, which is only a short distance ahead, but your actions as a conscientious driver allowed him to get across without harm.”

At this point the policeman straightened and took out his notebook. “What you won’t be aware of, sir, is that we are carrying out a child safety drive at the moment, as part of Child Care Week. We are handing out Driver Safety Awards. They come in the form of a five hundred dollar award token, and I am writing one up for you now, sir. You have definitely earnt one.” He opened his notebook and was asking for the driver’s name when there was more banging coming from somewhere at the back of the vehicle.

The policeman hesitated and moments later a young voice shouted… “Daddy, please let me out! I promise, I won’t do it again!”