Author: Alexander Fawn

He sat, looking out of his bedroom window.

From the second story, he had a clear view of his objective. Picking up his binoculars he looked again. He could easily make out the small cluster of trees with a small patch of grass in front of it. He smiled. It was way up there, on the far ridge, across the lake, from where they lived, that he saw the place he would need to be. Yes, that would be the ideal spot. He had made up his mind. Tomorrow he would do what he’d always said he would do, finally, in his retirement. He and his wife had often been up there for walks when the weather was good. They had frequently paused to look back to where they live. The light colour of the house’s brickwork had made it easy to locate. Now, with his plan well advanced, he would do it.

She, despite thinking that his idea was quite silly, went along with it. After all, it would do no harm, and it seemed to mean a lot for him to do it. Tomorrow would be the day and she would give whatever support he needed to carry out his plan.

Early tomorrow morning, he would detach the mirror from the dresser and place it so that it sat square with the bedroom window. When the sun rose above the distant ridge, it would light it up. At that point, he would be there, on the small patch of grass with his camera. It would make quite a spectacular shot!

As planned, next morning, with the mirror in place, he was there, at the very place, with his camera, waiting patiently for the sun to rise behind him…

One may ask, what could possibly go wrong?

He was pouring his half glass of malt whiskey, not knowing it would be his last.

The rest of the family were downs stairs, watching a movie. As was the custom, the lounge room lights were off, making it feel more like a cinema. A large bowl of homemade popcorn sat on the table in font of them. It was an action-packed crime show and it had been planned for days. The father, in his upstairs study, couldn’t be bothered to join them. In fact, he had as little to do with the family as possible. He had never wanted children and he now had three of them. He had no love for any of them. Especially his youngest. He had almost given up trying to knock any sense into him.

Likewise, his wife had given up encouraging him to cut down on his drinking long ago and was happy that he spent so little time with them.

Nobody noticed the youngest leave the room, but they all heard the bang!

In the days and months that followed, there was one simple question that nobody was able to answer.

No one could figure it out.

How did the seven-year-old manage to get hold of a gun?

He wanders through the library,

With bookcases, line after line.

He spots the book he wants to read,

Runs his finger down the spine

–

He sniffs the scent of leather.

He muses to savour each word.

He jumps at the sudden sound.

It was the closing bell he heard.

Their relationship was rocky from the word go.

Allowing her to move in to his small apartment in town was a big mistake. It only took a few days before he fully realised the fact. Although they were both office workers, their jobs, along with their interests, were very different. She had a tendency to become angry at the drop of a hat, and her ongoing mood swings were hard to live with. In the evenings they rarely agreed on what tv shows to watch, and they had very different dietary needs. To make matters worse, she had her own ideas about where things around the flat should be kept. It was only during the second week that he learnt that her lease had been about to expire. She had obviously seen him as some kind of saviour. Moving in with him had solved all her problems.

It was then that things changed. The tiny creature first appeared in the kitchen. It was nibbling on something near the fridge when she began to scream! It was probably the noise alone that had the mouse dart across the floor and disappear through a hole in the skirting. Needless to say, she was extremely upset and demanded that the hole was plugged. Although this was done, over the following day or two, the creature made appearances again around the place. Each time, she went berserk, telling him that he was to blame for leaving the place dirty.

It all came to a head when she found the offending rodent curled up on her pillow! At this point she demanded that he buy mouse traps so that the thing could be got rid of completely.

The following day, on his way back from work, he bought six mouse traps for Monty; it was around this time that he thought of him as Monty. That evening, he carefully removed all of the springs, loaded each one with food scraps and placed them around the apartment.

Without going into details, three days later, she packed up her stuff and left.

On the internet, after a short spell of research, he found out that sugary and high fat foods should be avoided. He understood that they liked to nibble on all sorts of things, like fruit, vegetables, chickpeas, beans, grains and seeds, along with a regular supply of fresh water. He could easily manage all that.

On the evening that followed her departure, he settles down in his armchair to watch one of his favourite shows on tv. On his lap he has a large tea tray, draped with a fluffy hand towel. On it, a dish of food scraps at one end and a bowl of water at the other. In the middle, his new friend is curled up on a comfy pillow.

Occasionally, a fingertip strokes its head.

Monty… his saviour!

She had worked on the counter of her uncle’s butcher’s shop for several years.

She liked it well enough. She got to know the locals that came in for their meat, and it was conveniently close to home. The pay wasn’t great, but he was a good boss. If she hadn’t received the mysterious phone call one evening, she would never have seriously considered packing it in. The unknown voice on the phone was only prepared to tell her so much about the job he was offering. The work would be of a highly confidential nature. It was basically evening work. It would involve a great deal of travelling to locations all around the country. She would use her own car, with all fuel and maintenance expenses paid for. The costs of any overnight accommodation at motels or B&Bs would be reimbursed.

The caller said that the hours would vary greatly, and all assignment details would be given by text on a provided mobile phone. She was also told that she’d only be working for two or three evenings a week, but despite this, the pay would be excellent.

With her agreement, they would meet in a very public place of her own choosing, where he would happily provide her with full details of the work so that she could decide whether or not she wanted the job.

Two days later, on a Saturday, having taken time off for an appointment, she was sitting on a bench beneath the town clock. The place was very busy with shoppers. After a short wait, a man approached. He looked much like any other business man in a suit. They sat for almost an hour, with questions and answers running back and forth. At the end of which, she accepted the job.

Two weeks later, she began her new occupation. By text, she’d been given the location and precise details of what to expect when she arrived. The assignment went well, and a second job in the same week was a good indication of how lucrative her new occupation was going to be. As far as she could tell, it all came down to the fact that some very wealthy people had been saddled with noisy neighbours.

Who would have thought that travelling around the country laying down poisoned baits for noisy dogs could be such a money-spinner!

It begins and ends with copies residing in two different time zones.

In a city, on a busy street, in a café, a man sits sipping coffee. He likes the lift it gives him before starting his day in the office. He is just a few streets away from the building. It is a few minutes before nine o’clock in the morning on a cloudy Tuesday. He sifts through his wallet, finding several loyalty cards for other city cafes. He pulls a tattered photograph out from the back compartment. It’s an old, four by six inch, black and white photo, slightly creased with worn corners. In it, two smiling teenagers are standing side by side, holding hands. He wonders what she was doing at this moment.

Meanwhile…

Elsewhere in the world, in a town, on a quiet street, in her home, a woman is dusting shelves. She likes doing a little house cleaning in the afternoon. It is a few minutes before four on a sunny afternoon on the same Tuesday. She pulls out the old photograph album and flips idly through its forgotten pages. She finds the photo, buried among so many black and white memories from that time. Two happy youngsters. She wonders what he was doing at this moment.

Some links are never broken. Neither knows that they share this moment; this same moment. Nor will they ever know.

The element of synchronicity, unexplained. So many synchronised links.

So many, never seen.

The barista from the town’s café, rarely stopped off at the pub after work.

This night was an exception. It was a showstopper in more ways than one. Naturally, most of the patrons knew him; at least by sight. A few heads turned to watch him enter, but this changed when he began to make his important announcement. First, he quickly downed two whiskies, then swivelled around on his barstool and faced the two dozen or so patrons with the news. He said that his work was done. He explained that he was not, nor ever had been, human. At this the mood in the room changed, with a few sniggers and hushed conversations. He went on to say that for two of Earth’s years, he had regularly sent reports, based on what he had learnt here, to his home planet. This being situated in a nearby galaxy; details about this, he was forbidden to talk about.

The place had remained remarkably silent throughout his entire declaration. It was as though his audience had been placed under a spell. This changed when he turned and ordered another congratulatory drink.

A lone voice came up with a simple question. “Can you prove it?”

It was a direct enquiry; he had to admit that. He sat thinking for a while, before coming up with an answer. He nodded, saying, “The only thing I can do to demonstrate the truth of what I’ve said, is to momentarily shimmer.” His hand went up to stop a barrage of questions. “What you see here, of course, is not my true appearance. Taking on this physical form was a most unpleasant experience, and before this night is out, I’ll have to go through it again. Meanwhile, to demonstrate the veracity of what I have told you, I can shimmer.”

A few mumbles came from the room.

He slid off his stool and once again held up his hand. “If I were to try to transform myself back to my original physical form without the proper authority to do so, my entire body begins to shimmer. It’s a very uncomfortable thing to do, so I’ll only do it once.”

He closed his eyes as a painful facial expression took hold. Moments later, a brightly coloured, sparkling haze enveloped his entire body, from head to toe!

Gasps rang out around the pub, as the vivid shimmering continued.

The shock of watching this amazing display meant that the vision remained fixed with them, and hardly any one of them heard him bid them, “Goodnight”.

It goes without saying, he was never seen again…

He knew that he was well overdue for an eye test.

He eventually made an appointment and went for a test on the following day. The optometrist, reading his notes, had been surprised at how long it had been since his last test. So far, looking through all these different lenses, he hadn’t done at all well. He was sitting in the chair looking at the table of letters on the far wall. He was asked to read them out. He knew he was in trouble when he had difficulty with the one at the top.

The eye specialist was saying, “Take your time. Try that one again.”

He focussed as hard as he could, but repeated. “That has to be a ‘B’. I’m sure it’s a ‘B’.

The expert coughed politely. “No,” he said, “It’s an ‘E’.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure,” came the reply. Then after shuffling things around, he came up with a pair of temporary glasses that had the proposed lenses slotted into the frames. “Look here, if you’d like to walk back out into the showroom and take a look around with these on for a bit, I think you will find that these improve your eyesight a great deal.”

The patient put them on. They felt heavy, but he could certainly see a lot better straight away. He walked out to where the racks of spectacles hung on the walls. He was generally looking around as suggested, when he caught sight of a mirror. He went over to it and stood looking at his reflection. He was horrified!

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. So much of his hair was grey, and he had spots on his cheeks that he had no idea he had.

He began to panic.

Rushing back into the test room he put the glasses down, saying, “Sorry, I’ve just had an urgent phone call. I do have to go.”

The other looked up with a frown.

“I’ll have to come back, sorry.” Waving his old glasses, he said, “Meanwhile, I’ll have to stick with the originals for a bit, sorry.”

With that, he left in a hurry.

He really enjoyed his nightly walks through the bush.

These bushland retreats were perfect for getting away from the hustle and bustle of city life, but he knew these late-night strolls would come to an end soon. He would miss the night air and the sparkling host of stars. It was so quiet, so peaceful. The flat bushland, stretching away into the far distance was so beautiful at night. The moon was almost full, making it easy for him to navigate around the occasional patches of dry shrubbery. The large, plastic carrier bag hanging from his shoulder was lighter than at other times. He paused to gaze up at the orange sky, thinking about her. She’d been missing for several days now. Looking around; it was so easy to get lost out here, he thought. He was almost there…

Now, sitting beside the opening of the old, abandoned, vertical mineshaft, he opens the bag. He tips the contents out. The parcel tumbles down into the unseen depths.

He stands and straightens his back.

“Tomorrow night,” he whispers, “the left leg.”

On retiring, he just wanted to settle down somewhere that was quiet.

He’d spent all of his working life in noisy environments. It had begun in a factory full of noisy machinery, then it had been on loud building sites as a construction worker, and finally he had been working as part of the ground staff at an airport. He knew it would all change when he retired from the workforce. He planned to move away from the city and find a nice tranquil spot in the country. It wasn’t long before he had settled on a place in a rural district away from the clamour. It was ideal, because it was at the end of a quiet country lane, some distance from the road that ran through the village. Also, the house was the last property, meaning that he only had one neighbour. He understood that he, like himself, was retired and living alone.

All went well at first. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before he became aware of the mice. Especially at night, when in bed, trying to get off to sleep. It sounded as though there were a lot of them scurrying around, up in the roof space. It is difficult to describe the degree of personal trauma this event brought about. He had spent the latter years of his working life planning and looking forward to a completely silent and peaceful lifestyle. He was determined not to allow these pesky rodents to spoil any of it.

Eventually, after his initial rage had subsided, he gave it some serious thought, and the problem was naturally solved by purchasing a super-strong pest-killing poison. He laced food scraps with the lethal stuff, got up into the area above the ceiling, and crawled around scattering the bait. Within a couple of nights, the house fell silent.

Unhappily, the situation took yet another turn when the man next door got himself a dog! To make matters worse, this particular animal turned out to be the kind of dog that barked a lot… especially at night! His longing for some well-earned peace and quiet was becoming something of a battle. Again, it is hard to say how much this new tragedy would affect his judgement.

After living with this new state of affairs for a couple of weeks and a lot of ongoing sleepless nights, he realised that this situation could be resolved in a similar manner to the first.

However, he had to weigh it all up carefully. He needed to consider the ramifications. The decision of how to use the poison had to be thought through, regarding the consequences.

Would it be for the dog or the owner?