Author: Alexander Fawn

From the get go, he had always been a precocious child.

When young, his father had been much the same. He had spent a lifetime dabbling in the mystic arts. He always hoped the boy would follow in his footsteps. Although very bright, the boy had quietened down a lot after his rabbit died. It was buried in the garden. They seemed to have had a special bond and the loss was obviously taking its toll. His parents had offered to get a replacement; anything he wanted they said. It made no difference; at the time he just wouldn’t be consoled. That’s why it was good to see how much brighter he seemed that evening.

His father watched him get down from the table, he said, “Don’t you want dessert, son?”

The boy said, “No. I need to get back to my book.”

“Yes, your mother told me about that; any good?”

“I would have to say it’s most enlightening. I managed to morph myself into a moth before tea.”

“Well, that‘s something, I must say.”

“Yes, indeed. I’m going to try another one now, and I don’t want to be disturbed.” With that, he went to his room and closed the door.

His father raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Where’d he get this spell book, anyway?”

His wife started to clear away the plates. “Jumble sale”.

“Really?”

“Yes. We called in after school. Didn’t cost much, and it’s really big; huge actually.”

“Not sure I approve at his age. Meddling with that stuff can be dangerous before you’re ready for it.”

His wife sighed and shook her head.

A little later they sat watching television when strange sounds came from the boy’s room. The father said, “I’ll go.”

When he opened the door he found a large, fluffy rabbit, gnawing and scratching at the carpet. “I guessed as much’, he said. “You’d rather be a rabbit, right?”

The animal nodded.

He returned to the lounge and said to his wife, “He’s turned himself into a rabbit. I think he’s hungry.”

He just knew she’d start screaming.

The old man had hardly slept at all during the night.

It had been a dickens of a cold night. Snow had been falling in the city for days and the cold had got into his house. To make things worse, he woke with most of his coverings on the floor. Something had happened during the night. He didn’t know what it was, although he had some fading recollection of being visited by spirits; three of them! His stomach was giving him the gripes as he struggled to get up. He quickly wrapped a dressing gown around his frail body and put his slippers on. He staggered across to the window and looked out. Everything was white. A young lad came into view in the street below.

He opened the window and called down to him. “Boy!”

The lad looked up. “Yes, sir.”

The old man’s hearing was poor. “Come closer, boy. I need you to run an errand for me.”

The boy took a few paces, still looking up. “Yes, sir?”

“Do you know where the butcher’s shop is in the high street?”

“Oh! Yes, sir, the one with the prized turkey in the window, sir.”

“That’s the one. Good lad. There’ll be half a crown in it for you.”

The boy tugged at his cap. “Why, thank you kindly, sir.”

“Well done, lad. I’d have you go to the apothecary’s shop opposite and get me a bottle of stomach medicine, and tell them to put it on my bill.”

The lad looked perplexed. “Beg pardon, sir?”

“Stomach medicine, for the gripes, lad. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, but…”

“What’s that you say?”

“I thought sir would be asking for the turkey, sir.”

He was becoming irritable. “The what?”

“Beg pardon, but I thought you’d be asking for the prized turkey, sir.”

He stepped back. The boy’s an idiot, he thought. He’d have to get dressed and go himself. He returned to the window and shouted, “Forget it!”

The lad wandered off, disappointed.

He slammed the window. “Bloody kids!”

He had always liked reading shorts stories.

On this particular evening he was sitting at his screen searching for something to read, when he came across this simple little blog that consisted mainly of very short stories. The one that he began to read was told in three hundred and ninety five words. He was intrigued by the opening words that said the author, being the main character in the story, had been getting off a bus when he saw a man in a chicken suit standing outside a supermarket holding a placard for free-range eggs. He was excited by what he saw. He was so struck by the spectacle that he immediately found a quiet spot in the street, and using the voice recorder on his phone, made a note that he had seen a man in a chicken suit standing outside a supermarket holding a placard for free-range eggs.

When he got home he went straight to his laptop, and after listening to his note about seeing a man in a chicken suit standing outside a supermarket holding a placard for free-range eggs, set about writing a short story about a man in a chicken suit standing outside a supermarket holding a placard for free-range eggs. However, although seeing a man in a chicken suit standing outside a supermarket holding a placard for free-range eggs, was a strange sight to come across while getting off a bus, he struggled hard to put the event into a story. He thought about writing the shortest of stories, going something like: ‘Today, while getting off a bus I saw a man in a chicken suit standing outside a supermarket holding a placard for free-range eggs’. He did a word count. He saw that this was only twenty-four words. No, that wouldn’t do.

After a lot of deliberation, he decided to write a story that contained the incident of a man in a chicken suit standing outside a supermarket holding a placard for free-range eggs, and how he as a writer couldn’t find a way to make a story of it.

At this point, the reader thought about it. If he had been getting off a bus and seen a man in a chicken suit standing outside a supermarket holding a placard for free-range eggs, would he be able to write a story about it?

Probably not.

He came out and joined his friends in the garden.

It was a pleasant enough evening, with a gentle breeze rustling leaves. The three of them just sat; at one with nature. You would have to say they were doing nothing more than minding their own business. They certainly weren’t bothering anybody. The light was failing with dusk coming on. In one respect, you could say that they were all night owls, of a kind. All of them would be busy later.

Then came the sound. They all knew what it meant. It was happening again and they didn’t know why. It had always been this way. It was them, the others, with their attitude. The idea that they had no right to be there, although none of them had ever entertained the idea that they were trespassing. It was some kind of ingrained behaviour that ran through the DNA of the others…they supposed.

There it was again, a great whooshing sound; closer this time. It brought with it a quite familiar, yet extremely nasty smell that wafted towards them.

Tiny legs moving fast now.

All twenty-four of them, going like the clappers!

He approached the hospital reception desk with his forms.

Luckily he’d been able to find them all on the hospital’s website and download copies, then fill them all in at home. He hated filling in forms, and there seemed to be so many of them!

The woman took them.

“All filled in, are we?” She began looking through the paperwork. “Medical number and health insurer, allergies, brief history…” she mumbled, as she read. “Ah! Yes. I see you’ve made out the political preferences statement.” She looked up and smiled. “Always good to know.” She looked down again. “And you’ve provided us with a list of your preferred charities; good. And any family members that currently work in the medical profession. None, I see. Yes. I’ll get you to sign here at the bottom.” She pushed the paperwork back and handed him a pen.

He took the pen. “I couldn’t help wandering about some of them”, he said, almost apologetically.

“It’s for in the event of any unexpected difficulties, when difficult decisions have to be made, that sort of thing. If the hospital’s Medical Ethics Team have to review your ongoing treatment, you see? It’s nothing to worry about, most of the time.”

She lowered her voice. “However, we are running a touch low of oxygen at the moment.”

He woke in a tangle of bedding and a complete sweat.

It was as though his entire night had been spent being inside a nightmarish world where there were ugly, eight-legged creatures everywhere. At every turn, these disgusting things could be seen creeping up on him. His alarm went off and he jumped with fright. He knew he was in a bad way. He lay there wondering if this had anything to do with having to walk past the Spider House, the day before. As it turned out, on that one occasion, he couldn’t avoid passing it. He looked at the clock, he was now running behind. The boss was a stickler for punctuality. It was hard getting out of bed. He felt positively twitchy as he made his way into the kitchen. He noticed that his hands were shaking as he filled the kettle.

He hadn’t even had his morning cuppa when the phone rang.

He picked up. “Hello?”

It was the head keeper. “Morning. Thought I’d better give you a heads up. Just had the boss on the phone. Bit pushy he was, considering he’s come up with some last minute work. He wants it done today.”

He stood listening in silence.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” he replied.

The other went on. “OK. Apparently, Creepy Joe’s off sick so it’s down to you to fill in for him. The boss wants the Spider House emptied, with the inhabitants relocated to the store facility while I go in and give the place a thorough clean.”

Silence.

He paused, then he went on. “That should only take me a couple of hours. Then you need to return them all.”

Silence.

After another pause, he said, “He wants the whole thing done in a day. That should be doable, don’t you think?”

Silence.

“Don’t you think?” he repeated.

Silence.

“Hey! Are you still there?”

“Hello?”

“Hello?”

After much careful planning, he managed to escape.

He no longer believed in what the group stood for. He was glad to get out of it. He never really held the same views as the other members. It all sounded so reasonable at first, but as time went on he found himself doubting that any of the things he was being told, the main principles that they all adhered to, were actually valid or to his liking. More and more he felt himself becoming an outsider.

When the opportunity presented itself he saw it as his way out and he leapt at it. In fact, exposing their activities had actually benefited him financially. He knew it was going to be a struggle to get out and start a new life for himself.

He looked down at his hand.

Thirty pieces of silver would give him a start.

He was middle-aged, healthy, and a very successful business man.

In fact, he had built a substantial empire. This had grown to the point where his factories, shops and transport company were all being managed by people he had put there. From his point of view, the whole thing ran itself. This level of success meant that he was no longer required to take a hands-on role. Through the years of going from strength to strength he often thought of the one man who had played such a big part in putting him on the straight and narrow. Having lost his parents when he was in his late teens, as a result of an airliner coming down, he had lost his way. He began a lifestyle that would have lead him down the long road to nowhere. That’s when he met the man. The man that would turn his life around.

This life-saving mentor was a social worker. He became a father figure, a teacher and a friend. This man had actually made him feel good about himself. Looking back, he found the powerful impact the man had on him over such a short period still amazed him. He remembered how sad he had felt when, after just a few short weeks, the man was suddenly called away. Despite that, he had embraced a new and positive view of the world and began to see how much better his future was going to be. Running through all this yet again in his mind he suddenly realised that he was in a position to fulfil a lifetime wish. He had often felt the desire to find him and properly thank him for what he had done. He realised that a lot of years had passed and tracking him down may not be easy. For this reason he hired the services of the most prestigious detective agency in the city to trace him.

It was about a month after this that he received a call from the agency to say they had found him. They asked him to call in to collect their report. He asked if they were positive it was the right person. He was assured that because of the photos, one was of him and his mentor together, and all the other information about the man they were given, there was no doubt that this was the person. When he asked for more details regarding their findings it was explained that such information was not given out over the phone as part of their own policies that dealt with confidentiality. In fact, they much preferred their clients to call in and collect the report in person.

“Where is he? I would very much like to meet him.”

“Well, I see in the report that he made a similar request to meet you. However, I suggest you need to read the report first.”

“That’s OK, presumably you have his current address?”

“Yes, it’s in there, but…” he hesitated.

The other jumped in. “Look, if for any reason he prefers to come to me, I’d be perfectly happy to pay his fares.”

The agency man sighed and shook his head.” I don’t think he’d be free to do that.”

“Oh! He’s a busy man, then. I wouldn’t be surprised, he was very gifted.”

The man creased his face in frustration. “Look. Strictly speaking I am only obliged to ensure that I’m handing this over to the correctly identified client.” He picked up the envelope and opened it. ‘I think in this case it’s better if I read you just one line from the report. He flipped through several stapled pages until he found what he wanted.

“Yes. Here we are. I’m quoting now. ‘…and is currently serving time for kidnapping, child abuse and three counts of murder.’”

Ride, ride, ride the bus,

Neither king no queen.

Happily, happily, happily, happily.

Something in between.

He gave the latest anti-snoring gizmo a try, without success.

It wasn’t a case of him not giving it a go, he did. The whole business was just too complicated. She had been very patient with him, but at the same time she was constantly suggesting some other contraption that he could try. The whole problem revolved around the fact that she wasn’t getting a good night’s sleep. It all came down to his snoring. Naturally, he felt bad about it. Anyway, the solution suddenly popped into his head out of the blue one day. With no idea where it came from, he decided to try it out, anyway. It didn’t take long to set it up while she was out at the shops. He took the sleeping bag from the shed, made sure it was clean and dry, then he poked it under the bed in the spare room.

That night he tried it out.

He laid quietly for a few minutes until she went off to sleep. Then, he silently got out of bed, closed the bedroom door, collected his bedroll, opened it out on the settee in the lounge, set his mobile phone to vibrate twenty minutes before her alarm went off, and went to sleep. The whole thing went off without a hitch. After a few weeks of this, she made the comment that she was sleeping a lot better.

Meanwhile, each morning she wakes, just before her alarm sounds. With eyes partly open and hidden, she sees him as he very carefully climbs back into bed. Her eyes close again. She smiles to herself at the thought that he’s convinced that she doesn’t know.

She also thinks, he’s such a love!