Author: Alexander Fawn

None of the boys knew exactly what it was that lived in the cave.

It was quite common to hear strange growling sounds coming from deep within it. It was probably some wild animal that had made its home in there. Nobody knew for sure. All three of them stood at the entrance. They peered into the dark tunnel as far as they could see, which wasn’t very far. They were debating who should go in first, just to check it out. As none of them were actually volunteering, they decided that the oldest of them should do it. After some hesitation, the boy made his way in slowly, while the others looked on. Gradually he disappeared into the blackness with only his footsteps being heard. A minute or so passed before they heard the growling. Then it stopped, followed by a distant conversation.

After a few minutes the boy re-emerged, inviting them in, as the old man and his dog never minded visitors.

As astronauts go, he had always been regarded as one of the best.

Despite this, when the ship’s electrical systems began to fail a couple of weeks ago, he found himself struggling to compensate for some of the strange readings that were coming up on the screens. None of the readings had made any sense. Then, a short time ago, things got a whole lot worse. He was fiddling with one of the compass controls when all monitors suddenly went blank. He wasn’t sure; maybe he had pressed something. In short, he had no idea where he was and no idea where he was going. He remembered what his old flying instructor had told him all those years ago. He said that if the cockpit’s instruments play up, go back to basics. Look out of the window to see where you are and to orientate yourself.

He stretched across and lowered the radiation protection blind and looked out. He saw a whole lot of black with a lot of twinkly specs. He noted that some of the twinkly specs were more twinkly than others. He couldn’t see how knowing that would help. As he settled back into his seat, his clumsy space boot kicked something. He looked down at the bottle. In that moment, the irony of knowing more about the drink that came in that bottle, than what he knew about what any of the ship’s backup manual navigation controls actually do. He knew, for instance that the amber fluid that he had polished off was an eighteen year old single malt whisky that had been matured in Spanish oak. He knew that!

Looking down at the empty whiskey bottle, the one he’d smuggled on board, he remembered what his first motor vehicle instructor had said. He had made a point of stressing that one of the fundamental basics regarding driving a car is, don’t drink and drive.

He giggled.

He was running late and would probably miss the bus.

The wintery air was chilly and he was walking into the drizzle. He didn’t fancy having to wait around in the wind for the next one. But, sure enough, at a distance he watched the bus turn up. A few people climbed aboard and it moved away slowly. As it did, he became aware of a woman rounding the corner. She too had missed it. She didn’t look at all happy. She was rugged up against the weather as he was. He stood across the street knowing that he had no choice but to stand around in the cold for several minutes. As he crossed, he saw the woman huddling in the shelter. Ducking in beside her he smiled, saying, “Never mind, there’ll be another in ten minutes.”

She smiled back.

The day in the office had been tiring and she was hanging out for five o’clock.

When the time came she packed up quickly and caught the earlier bus. On the way home she thought about the story she was reading. It was definitely what you’d call a cliff-hanger, but she was determined to have an early night. No television, she decided. She would read another chapter, then go to bed. She had tea and cleared away quickly. She made herself comfortable and went back to reading her book. When she opened the place at the bookmarker she had a job reading the print. The type face seemed to be faint. Was it her eyesight, did she need glasses? Just tired, she thought. She moved around on the couch so that the book was in the light. That was an improvement and she read for a while before going to bed.

In the morning she was tempted to take the book in with her, but she decided against it. She’d never been comfortable with that, so she left it. It would be something to look forward to when she got home. It was an exciting story, full of surprises, some of them quite disturbing, but she couldn’t wait to see how it ends. That evening she watched TV for a bit, then went to bed with the book. She decided she’d read two chapters. When she opened the book at her place, it happened again! The print was pale grey. Although her bedside light was strong, she could hardly read the words. She had no idea what made her do it, but in her frustration she shook the book. To her amazement the print on the page turned black!

This went on over the next few days; turn the page, shake the book, read some more, turn the page… it was disconcerting to say the least, but the story was really good, so she persisted until it was finally finished. She had decided she wasn’t going to mention the problem she’d had with the book. Would anybody believe her? On the evening she returned it to the library the woman at the counter said what a great story it was with all its twists and turns. She had agreed, without saying any more.

As she left the library she wasn’t completely comfortable with the woman’s comment that the book had shaken her up!

G is for gulls, always sailing above.

U for unwinding and flexing the quill.

I for ideal, the word sums up the time.

L for lagoon, so shallow and still.

D for the dunes and the stretch of the beach.

E for enjoyment, while setting the pace.

R is for river, winding in from the land.

T for the town that gives a temporary base.

O is for ocean and its calming sound.

N is for never tire of the peace that’s found.

The whole business began with contact being made through the dark web.

It was then that his extensive evenings of research had finally paid off. When the cloaked messages between him and the other party, who referred to himself as the ‘Mystic’, where finished, he knew that all he had to do was wait. He was happy to do that. He had found the service he required… for a price. It would be worth it; just to see her again, to be with her for that precious time before the accident had taken her life almost seven years ago. He was told what to expect. A blue envelope with a birthday card. On the back a number of precise instructions. He would need to read the instructions carefully, place the cash in the envelope with the card, reseal the envelope and take it with him.

It arrived a few days later. The information typed on the back of the card was quite specific. It gave the numbers of two bus routes, with times. These would take him on an hour and a half journey across the country to a town he was unfamiliar with. It said that the mystic would be doing the same. He was to walk from the appointed bus stop into the town’s main square where he would find a telephone booth near a chemist shop. He needed to open the directory at the beginning of the v-section, find and take the packet and replace it with the envelope. He was then told to walk back to the bus stop, the one that was indicated as being the start of his return trip home.

On the way back he found it impossible to resist repeatedly taking the tiny package out of his pocket and turning it over carefully with his fingertips. It was a folded square of stiff, white paper, not much bigger than a postage stamp. It was sealed closed with clear sticky tape. It would contain a small amount of white powder. The details for mixing this with water had been carefully memorised. It would be that evening… that very evening, that he would go back, he would reverse time itself and go back, back to the time when he held her in his arms… His heart was pounding.

That evening, he sat looking at the mixture in the glass tumbler. It had turned cloudy when he slowly stirred the powder into the exact amount of water. It sat on the coffee table in front of him. He had to pause. He had to think about the incredible leap he was about to take. He sank back into the armchair and lit a cigarette. He knew that once drunk, there would be no stopping the process. That had been made clear. Suddenly, giving way to an unexpected impulse, he picked up the glass and took the contents down with a series of full gulps. He sat back again and waited.

Nothing happened for several minutes. The clock on the far wall kept its steady ticking. It seemed to be louder than usual, but he put that down to imagination. He began to feel warm. In fact, he was sweating. The first thing he noticed was the smoke rising from his cigarette resting in the ashtray. He was sure it was drifting up more slowly. Then it was the ticking of the clock. It was definitely slowing, with the ticks becoming further and further apart. Then, his heartbeat pounded in his ears as the ticking stopped and the stream of smoke froze in mid-air. For long moments nothing changed. Then, the second hand of the clock slowly began to creep anticlockwise. At the same time, the smoke began to fall steadily back down. As the long drawn-out minutes passed, the ticking returned to its normal rhythm and the cigarette sat unlit in the ashtray.

It was at this point that he whispered the shockingly ludicrous question to himself, “Just how long is this going to take?”

She’d been using the dating site for a few months.

This was after finally getting rid of her ex. That had been a nightmare that had gone on for almost two years. He was such a pig! It was her flat, but he showed no respect for her property. He had so many disgusting habits. Too many to mention. In the end she had completely snapped and thrown him out. Now, she trawled the ‘Romance is Just a Click Away’ website, regularly. PF217 sounded interesting. There was no photo, but she would read about him, anyway. All the stuff on his ‘About Me’ page was ringing bells. Then, it dawned on her. It was him! She shuddered. The clincher… she easily recognised the phrase he liked to use a lot: ‘Let’s make music together.’ Yuk!

So, this was how the site matches you up with the perfect partner? She’d delete it and look for another one.

With another shudder, she couldn’t help wondering if he still picked his nose.

The kindly old gentleman from up the street would often stop and chat.

He knew the parents and sometimes spoke to the boy. Not often, the youngster was very quiet. His interaction with the family ceased abruptly the day he spent a few quiet moments with the boy. The afternoon that it happened the boy was sitting on the front wall reading a book when the man came passed. Seeing this as a rare opportunity to speak to the lad, he greeted the boy and asked what he was reading.

The boy looked up and studied him briefly before replying. “Nothing of any real significance,” he said.

This precocious reply surprised him a little, but he persisted. “Ah! And school, how is that going?”

“It is generally regarded as necessary,” he replied, without hesitation.

Taken aback by the boy’s response, the old man felt obliged to push a little harder. “So, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

This caused a sudden change of demeanour in the boy. He straightened up and closed his book. “What I want to be will play no part in my future. It is what I will become that matters.” At that moment, the boy’s eyes flashed red.

Despite the shock, the old man was about to say something, when the front door opened and his father called out. “Time to come in!”

The boy obediently jumped down and walked swiftly to the house.

The old man shuddered as he watched the door close.

She was certainly more enthusiastic about wearing fancy dress than he was.

The idea that they would arrive at the party together excited her. She had taken her cat costume into work that morning and she would get changed before she left. It was only a short walk through the office to the back of the building where her boyfriend would be waiting for her in a taxi. This way they wouldn’t have to go in public dressed in animal costumes. It would also ensure that they went in together. That was the plan.

However, he wasn’t there. After waiting a few minutes, and because his mobile phone wasn’t answering, out of desperation and annoyance she rang a friend, who agreed to come and pick her up and get her to the party. As she waited, she figured that he had probably changed his mind and couldn’t face telling her that he wouldn’t show. He’d never been keen on going anyway. This would be the last time they’d do anything together, that was for sure.

Although she only lived a short distance away, her lift hadn’t shown up after several minutes. She was now looking at the time and getting anxious. A few more minutes passed and her friend rang to say she was held up in a traffic jam. She said there were lights flashing and sirens going ahead of her. She said that a man that was walking back away from the scene told her that some idiot dressed as a chicken was flagging a taxi down when he got run over.

The fact that this most unusual island existed at all was kept a closely guarded secret.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, this knowledge stayed within a relatively small group of scientists. It was their intention to carry out ongoing studies without interference from the outside world, particularly the media. They well knew that if word got out their continuing investigations would be severely hampered or even brought to a halt. It was obvious that the unique nature of the island would create intense international interest. As it was, any vessels that passed through that part of the great ocean would see only a heavily forested island, some two kilometres long and one wide. In other words, one among thousands.

It was a keen botanist who had started it all. Despite it being an extremely hot day, he was willing to hack his way through the thick forest to find out more about the peculiar looking fruit, which were in fact not fruit at all, large clusters of which were growing on every tree. He was so amazed with his findings, these being the result of simply going in for a quick prod around, that he was careful to only share his discovery with a group of like-minded specialists. These were experts that he felt could properly analyse the conundrums that the island presented. This specialist team grew to around twenty, and it was these that set up a small private research station some distance away on the mainland. This became their research facility, while using small motor boats, teams of researchers made daily forays out to the island to gather material.

There were two main forms of life on the island; plem trees and the gerbinks. The trees bore fruit-like pods that looked much like a cross between a plum and a lemon, hence the name, plem. When ripe, these burst open and release a small number of eggs that would fall to the ground. These small brown spheres, looking much like birds’ eggs, then lay on the forest floor incubating for a day or two before hatching. The second lifeform, being the gerbinks, were the creatures that emerged from the eggs. These remarkable animals are so named owing to them having a head and facial features similar to that of a gerbil and the body markings and tail like that of a skink, hence, gerbink. These portmanteau, or hybrid words were concocted by the scientists enabling their studies to progress. They would no doubt figure out what the proper scientific Latin names were, once they had figured out what they were dealing with.

At first, their investigations indicated that there was a definite imbalance on the island. From the beginning it was apparent that tree growth was heavy and overcrowded, and later it could be seen that the animals were finding it hard to survive in the congested environment. Over time it was shown that their numbers were dwindling. It was during a meeting, called specifically to address this problem that the news came. The team’s hydrologist, who had been out taking water samples, came back to announce that the island was no longer there. Within a few minutes, every member of the elite body of professionals were lined up along the shoreline scanning the horizon. Without doubt, the distant green image of the tiny island was no longer there.

All of this is a complete nonsense, of course. This became evident when the botanist, the original botanist, the unhappy, amateur botanist, who had only considered clambering onto the island for a quick prod around, woke up in his boat, drifting some distance from the island. After taking several large gulps of water, he slowly straightened from his slumped position. He stared, bleary-eyed, at the tiny island covered with trees, none of which bore fruit.

After spending a long time going back over these apparent events, together with several long periods of self-reflection, he realised that there were better ways of reducing the symptoms of his depressive disorder. He could hardly believe how truly powerful were the latent after effects of LSD.