Author: Alexander Fawn

The tunnel was part of an underground mining operation.

Safety inspections were being carried out and a worker with a light-emitting device is making their way through a tunnel. Some distance ahead; they could make out some sort of door barring their way forward. As they approached, they could see that it was a heavily built metallic structure.

Meanwhile, in the Crab Nebula, in the constellation of Taurus, some six thousand lightyears away, a worker with a light-emitting device is making their way through a tunnel. Some distance ahead; they could make out some sort of door barring their way forward. As they approached, they could see that it was a heavily built metallic structure.

The alien opened the door moments before the human got to it.

It would be a gross understatement to say anything other than they both received one hell of a shock!

She was on her way to the bus stop when the woman jogged past her, running hard.

Then, without warning, she suddenly stumbled and collapsed, right in front of her. As she went forward to see if she was all right, she thought about the recent CPR Training course that her company had put their staff through. She knelt beside her. She wasn’t getting any response and couldn’t find a pulse. Getting her phone out she called for an ambulance. After rolling her onto her back and confirming that her airway was clear, she started CPR. With her recent training in mind, and remembering the 30:2 ratio, she began with thirty compressions followed by two breaths. This went on for several long minutes before the ambulance arrived. This was quickly followed by a local tv news team that were in the area. Meanwhile, a crowd of onlookers had assembled.

She was greatly relieved when the medic took over. While the woman was being stretchered to the ambulance, the medic made a point of thanking her. He said that because of her fast response, there was a good chance that she had saved the patient’s life. All the while, the local camera crew were all over them.

When she finally got home, she could fully relax. The whole thing had happened so fast, she’d had little chance to think. She needed to make a quick snack, take a shower and get changed, before her boyfriend picked her up. They were going to a show, followed by a meal in a fancy restaurant that he had booked.

She was coming out of the shower when she heard the phone. Wrapped in a towel, she picked up.

He was quick to start. “Hi. I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel. I’ve just seen the local news report. The one where you’re giving the Kiss -of-Life to the jogger.”

Feeling confused, she said, “OK. Pretty exciting, eh?”

“Not really,” he said, “That woman happens to be the one who’s been refusing to sign the divorce papers for the last several months.”

“Oh!” was all she could say.

He went on, “I must go. They’re expecting me at the hospital.”

With that, he hung up…

The first saucer appeared over London.

Looking back, it was quite remarkable how quickly the whole thing happened. By the following day, six more arrived. All hovering over their designated continents. Naturally, the world press and global media went into a frenzy. Thinking about it now, you would have to say that people would have been terrified. Suicides and heart attacks aside, the vast majority of people across the world simply held their breath. It was at a point, during this twenty-four-hour period, that the main event occurred. It began with a gentle buzzing sound, that was audible across the entire planet, followed shortly after by a single pulse. Likewise, this was something that could be felt momentarily, by all of Earth’s inhabitants.

It was at this very moment that more than two-hundred people throughout the world suffered from a sudden and fatal cardiac arrest. In each case, all heart activities ceased. breathing stopped and life expired. This was the fate of every top-echelon leader, world-wide. None survived.

It has to be said that the actual motivation behind the event, wasn’t apparent at first. It was only later, when things had settled down a bit, that the true nature of what became known as ‘The Great Purging’, came to light

It was then, way back then, that peace and harmony across the world, became the norm.

There have been many debates about how long it will last.

Mainly, from world leaders…

Although no memory of it would remain later, this is where they send you back.

Little is actually known, and even less is properly understood, about the rebirth process. Since there is nothing physical about it, it is, by its very nature, hard to comprehend. Nevertheless, such an encounter is recorded here.

> You’re being sent back as a writer.

> What sort of writer?

> Sorry, you don’t actually get to ask questions.

> Oh!

> Anyway, not straight away, I suppose. (Here there is something like a chuckle) No. As you move through life, your writing skills will develop.

> I see.

> You won’t be very successful, I’m afraid.

> I won’t?

> As a writer, I mean. No, you will not become famous or even widely known for your work.

> Why is that?

> I must say, you ask more questions than most who pass through here.

> Is that a bad thing?

> There you go again! Anyway, I guess not.

> So, no success, then?

> No, but you won’t seek success.

> I won’t?

> No.

> Why’s that?

> It simply won’t be in your nature to do so. You’ll enjoy writing, all the same. Look, I’ve probably told you too much, as it is. Although you won’t have any recollection of what happened here. All the best!

At this point, some non-physical switch is activated.

End of encounter.

For the boy, it had to be the worst day of his life.

The day had begun with him dressing for school and discovering that the token was missing. It had been placed on the table beside his bed, the night before, along with other things he carried in his pockets. For him, it was such a precious thing that he wouldn’t have put it anywhere else. It had to be somewhere in his bedroom! The thing itself had been given to him by his grandad, only a few weeks before he died. He was ten when it happened. He was making one of his afterschool visits when it had been given to him.

For him, it had been a truly magic moment, when the old man had put his hand in his pocket and brought out the sports day medal. Giving it to him, he said that he had won it in a school sports event as a boy and it had always brought him luck. He had made him promise to always keep it with him. He said it would do the same for him. That was the day it had become a special token for him. Now at fifteen, he’d been carrying it in his pocket every day since.

His parents, both knowing how important the token was, spent most of the morning joining in the search. After a thoroughly careful search, they found nothing. The boy was so upset by the whole thing that they agreed that he could take a sick day off from school. His mother would write a note for him, to take in the next day. He spent the rest of the day in bed. It had certainly been the worst day of his life!

As bad as this day had been, it probably wouldn’t help if they knew that this extremely precious item was now in New Delhi, in the grubby trouser pocket of a nine-year-old boy, rattling against 35 Indian rupees in change, just enough to buy a chocolate-coated ice cream on a stick from the local Classic Ice Cream Parlour.

It had been a gloomy day; all day.

She had emptied the machine and put the clothes out on the back line, earlier. There didn’t seem to be any sun, but she hung it all anyway. Now, back inside, she returned to her cooking. She knew how much he enjoyed a pot roast. He would be home soon and she would make sure everything was ready. Ready for him. Yes, it was somehow essential that it was all exactly the way he would like it to be. This sense of nervousness was bothering her. What was she not telling herself? She shrugged off the silliness and began laying the table. With everything looking just right, she went through to the front window; the way she always did.

It was almost what she had expected.

The street was empty. No sign of people. Looking up, the sky was now a deeper shade of black. Moving to one side, she could see his car, still in the driveway, where it had been all day.

Going to the front door, she cracked it open, slowly. Stepping out, it was hard to breathe. Her lungs were stinging. In the gloom, she could just make out his car door hanging open. He was lying on the front lawn.

With eyes also stinging, she looks up.

It had started.

Perhaps, people were simply meant to suffer.

I guess, the whole problem exists because of the tenses. For starters, take the present. The present, whether anyone likes it or not, is forced upon us. There’s nothing we can do about it. By the time anybody figures out what it’s all about, it’s gone. Then there’s the past. This doesn’t exist either. How much of it is actually remembered depends on the individual. When all is said and done, it’s not around anymore. As for the future, a lot of it can be foretold. However, the fact that none of it has happened indicates strongly that this also doesn’t exist. It is all of these combined that bring about a great deal of angst and suffering for we that have to put up with it!

All this is why people, in particular, those in densely populated places such as major cities and the small but overcrowded village of Bundling-on-the-Wold, are so often found to be unhappily mumbling to themselves.

Ever since his discovery of the board and what it could do, his hobby changed.

It started at a jumble sale. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking at until the nice old gentleman smiled and explained what it was for. The old guy seemed to be quite an expert. He explained that the word Ouija came from an ancient Egyptian word, meaning ‘good luck’. He then went on to say that there was a rumour about how it was named. The story went that a well-known medium once asked the board to name itself. He had chuckled and said that he didn’t believe it himself. That morning, the conversation went on for some time. The man found it hard to believe that his customer had never heard of the board before. From his own perspective, considering his general lack of social interactions, he wasn’t surprised that the subject was completely new to him.

Anyway, that’s how it all started. After paying a pittance for it, he left, making straight for home. He couldn’t wait to spend computer time learning everything there was to know about the thing he’d purchased.

Looking back later, he realised that it was that same day that his usual pastime of playing puzzle video games solo, on his computer in the evenings, was about to change… forever.

As a bit of a loner in his mid-twenties, he’d landed a reasonably well-paid clerical position with a finance company after leaving school and was never really short of money. Because he was neither particularly interested in girls or any kind of social life, his somewhat solitary existence was spent doing whatever he wanted to do. As a result, over the following weeks, his evenings were almost exclusively directed to the business of getting to know all there was to know about the board.

Once this was done, he spent time scouring the obituary columns and noted the names of a number of recently deceased people who had held senior positions in financial institutions. Creating a short list of those he considered to be the best, he began work on what he regarded to be the master plan for his future.

Coming to the board, as he did, with no preconceived ideas about it, other than what the old man had told him, he contacted a number of spirits with relative ease. He had no doubts about the veracity of the board and what it was capable of. The planchette flew around the board and he made steady progress towards what he had planned.

Eventually, having been in touch with these over an extended period, striking up relevant conversations regarding matters of finance, enabling him to gather expert advice regarding stocks and shares, all aspects of his plan took shape. Over a few short years, you could say he became very comfortably off, and it was time for him to retire.

He left the company, packed his belongings, along with his much-loved board, flew out to the French Riviera where he had purchased a coastal villa with a panoramic view of the Mediterranean Sea.

On the subject of ‘used by dates’, as precious as his board had been, he no longer needed it.

He was not the sort of person you would look at twice.

He was fairly short and a little overweight, with hair that had never been groomed or cut properly. His clothes were nothing short of drab and his shoes never saw polish. In fact, he was pretty much nondescript. As a result of him being so incredibly unremarkable, few people actually noticed him. None of this really bothered him. It has to be said that there were downsides to this general invisibility, mainly when trying to get the attention of customer service officers or shop assistants. Again, he was not particularly worried about this. It was often the case that those who met him would be left with hardly any memory of having done so. It followed that such people would be hard pressed to describe him, if asked. It has to be said that this pleased him no end.

All this serves the man well.

Known only as The Shadow to those who work in MI6’s Special Operations Section, who’s clandestine activities have scuttled a number of terrorist plots.

However, you can’t possibly know any of this.

It had taken five years for him to see how thoughtless he’d been.

Although they were both in their fifties, they had argued like a couple of love-sick teenagers. For several weeks he’d been thinking about it. He’d turned the events of that evening over and over in his mind, remembering all of it. He had a clear recollection of the house, the party, the music and laughter coming from inside as they stood on the porch, filled with anger; anger directed at each other. Then, the point where she had said she didn’t want him to drive her home, she would catch the bus. Then, his response, something that could only make matters a whole lot worse, he laughed. On reflection, that single thing was easily the most stupid thing he had ever done in his life!

He got out of the car and stood looking at the house. The nearest street lamp was some way off, but there was enough light for him to recognise it from all those years back. The house looked as though it was in total darkness save for a faint glow coming through chinks in the upper curtains. After all his planning, had he come too late in the evening? It had only just gone nine. Regardless of such considerations, there would be no turning around now. No, he was there. He would tell her how sorry he was. He would say how foolish he’d been and how much he loved her. He pressed the doorbell.

Inside, the woman lays in her bed. Despite the number of prescribed pain-killers she had already taken, the pain was still there. She has often thought that she simply imagines that her sciatica has got increasingly worse since that night after the party. She knows that the regret that she endures after that unwarranted moment when she had turned her back on him and hurried off to the bus stop, had steadily increased with the passing years. Was it simply pride that had prevented her from apologising for running off like that? After all, he may have forgiven her if she had said how much she loved him.

Outside, he waited in silence. He would give her time.

Inside, she lifted the glass of sherry. It would be the last; she had finished the bottle. She tipped the last of the tablets into the palm of her hand and through her head back. Sipping at the sherry, she swallowed them a few at a time. Soon, the regret and the pain would stop and never return.

Outside, he had rung twice more with no response. He stood back and peered up at the window. Could she know he was there, that it was him; a person, never to be forgiven? He pressed one last time and waited…

Finally, he turned to walk back to his car, not noticing the small card on the front step.

Had he seen it and picked it up… better yet, had he turned it over, even in the poor light, he would have seen the words, ‘Bell broken, please knock’.