Author: Alexander Fawn

Despite their rigorous training, occasionally time agents screwed up.

It was usually such a small indiscretion that it didn’t really matter, but from time to time a senior officer had to be sent back for a retrieval. Of course, none of this would be necessary if both the government and the military hadn’t decided long ago that any knowledge regarding the existence of the portal should remain subject to the Official Secrets Act. A report had landed on the desk of one such officer. It was late in the year with public holidays and he was on a skeleton staff. It concerned a particularly problematic failure to follow the strict protocols about travel preparation. On this recent jump, the agent had gone back several decades to gather what was relatively minor intelligence without properly checking his pockets.

The time element was critical and the officer was soon sent back several decades to the beginning of the twentieth century, where he reappeared in a toilet cubicle on board a train. Checking the report, he made his way to the designated carriage where the item had most probably either dropped to the floor or slid down between seat cushions. He was pleased to find the carriage empty, enabling him to carry out a thorough search without interruption. It was troubling that after a painstaking effort he found nothing.

Moving through the train, he located the guard and made enquiries. These were based on the ruse that it was him that had lost the item. His concern grew even more when he found out that something had been found and handed in at the main city station’s lost and found office. This could well mean that the item had been seen and handled by several people!

Changing trains he made his way to the city where he made similar enquiries. Describing the dimensions and the approximate weight of the item, the clerk was happy with his story. He smiled, saying that it had been handed in that day and he went to the back to retrieve it. As he stood waiting he wondered what people would make of finding a latest model iPhone. However, he was greatly relieved when he saw it.

Thank goodness it had been wrapped in Christmas paper!

Nobody likes to admit that they’ve made a mistake.

But if you do, it’s better to be part of a bureaucracy. When a person stuffs up big time, it isn’t always possible to stay under the radar. Sometimes mitigation can be achieved by having the error moved through several in-baskets in a kind of watering down manoeuvre. This may also be achieved by using the musical chairs effect, where the problem you created just keeps going around and around. This only works if you make sure that you’re not in the room when the music stops. There are other times when simply hiding beneath a large pile of paperwork does the trick, as long as you don’t crawl out too soon. If you’re really clever, you can have the cockup completely disappear from your department and have it reappear several floors away in the same building. This technique requires a lot of practice.

So, if you are the IT guy that didn’t bother to check the software code for bugs properly, allowing a few thousand pensioners to go without their payments for a week or two, it’s best if you just become invisible.

…or the manager who has cleverly syphoned off enough money between accounts to have that nice new swimming pool put in, you need to concentrate heavily on the methodology used to discombobulate the paper trail.

…or if you happened to be the secretary who failed to forward the ministerial report that allowed a public catastrophe to unfold, causing a major disruption to the community, a forfeiture of government revenue and the loss of the odd life or two… just keep all your heads down until it all blows over. It often does.

Naturally, in all cases, if you can manage simply to pass the buck, even better.

The couple were hard to make out.

The woman working in the shop wasn’t blond and her husband didn’t work in the construction industry. They didn’t live in Stockholm and had never been to Spain. They were not going to Belgium for a holiday this year. He didn’t have blue eyes and her nickname was never Tinkerbell. His father never called him Champ. She had never learnt how to knit and couldn’t speak Portuguese. He had never collected stamps or played cricket. She wasn’t a catholic. He wasn’t a member of any fan club. She had never had mumps. He didn’t smoke a pipe. She had never had a tooth implant. He had never been disqualified from driving. She had never owned a sewing machine. He had never ridden a Segway. She wasn’t going to be the May Queen. He didn’t take flying lessons. She had never had her legs waxed. He didn’t own a chainsaw. She had never broken her ankle, and he had never owned a dog. She didn’t have a sister. He didn’t play golf. They weren’t married in a registry office and didn’t own motorbikes. Neither of them qualified for a pension.

They didn’t refuse the cheque from the lotteries commission, and they certainly didn’t tell anyone where they were going.

It was truly weird how the boy with the jar knew where to look for her.

Well now, the story goes that she could have been anywhere. Wandering off in a daze and mumbling to herself was the main reason her elderly guardian had agreed to have her admitted to the institution in the first place. However, in the dead of night, he found her in the woods, just like that. Hardly surprising, really, they were best friends. He’d only known her for a year, but when you’re young that seems like a long time. Taking a narrow path off the main track, he found her staring up at the top of a grassy mound were a large bush sat glistening in the moonlight. Her mumbling slowly changed to a soft chant. She became aware of his presence and turned to him with wild eyes that creased to a smile when she saw the glass container. She pointed up and beckoned as she began to climb.

He wasn’t sure whether he should be encouraging her in whatever she was doing. Should he try talking her into getting back to the institution, where he felt she would be safe? As he watched her climb, he could see that she was driven by some unknown resolve. Although he had come here looking for glow worms, he decided to follow her.

As he reached the top, panting from the steep climb, he found her walking around the bush chanting again. A recent rain had left the tiny leaves beaded with raindrops. By the light of the moon, she took the jar, removed the lid and held it below branches that she tapped gently. He looked on in fascination as the droplets were gathered. He watched as she screwed the lid back on and held it up to the light. She looked so happy. Taking the jar to look for himself, his foot slipped on the dewy grass and he tumbled backwards, cracking the back of his skull on a piece of rock. In a daze, he carefully made his way down the slope holding his head.

At the bottom he found a tree stump and sat down. Luckily the jar had not broken. As he sat there, the wound was becoming more and more painful. He was rubbing the bump that he could feel swelling up at the back of his head when he heard laughter. In the gloom he could just make out what she was doing. She was laughing madly as she rolled all the way down. It was then that he began to have fears for both of them. He knew she was not in a fit state to be out here acting like this, even if she was enjoying herself, and he also knew that he needed medical attention. His eyes began to water from the pain.

It was at this point that, as though all of this wasn’t already weird enough, something really strange happened. She got up and went to where he sat and examined his head.

She had him lean forward while she felt the bump. Then she told him to sit still while she wandered along the path, where she found a scrap of paper. It was brown with dirt, but she picked it up and shook it. When she returned, she removed the lid from the jar and poured the liquid over the bump, then she placed the paper over the area and pressed down on it firmly. Jack complained that the paper was dirty, but she explained that it was all part of a mystical healing process. As she continued to maintain the pressure she also explained that she intended to gather dewdrops and use them in a potion she was going to brew. She said she was happy to sacrifice them because he had always been a good friend. Moments later, he was amazed to find that the swelling had gone down and the pain had completely stopped.

He stood up and took her hand. He thanked her for what she had done and convinced her that it was best if they returned to the institute to let them know they were all right. When they arrived, they found the girl’s guardian and the doctor, both anxiously waiting for them. While her guardian sat in the waiting area, the doctor led the girl and boy to the sick room. After checking them out he had them both climb onto sick beds, saying that after they had rested she could return to her room and her friend could go home.

The doctor went back to the guardian and assured him that no harm had come to either one of them. He said he didn’t understand how the boy had found his patient. The guardian shook his head, agreeing. He said that he felt that Jack and Jill had always had a rather peculiar relationship.

He was celebrating his promotion and salary increase like there was no tomorrow.

That day, just before going out for lunch, the boss called him in and gave him the good news. During the afternoon he spent a lot of time thinking about what this would mean. He would no longer have to struggle to keep up with the payments on his apartment. In fact, this would give him the chance to make some improvements. During the late afternoon he scribbled down a few names. He wanted to share his good fortune. So, just before leaving, he sent out a number of texts to his friends to meet in the local bar.

He paid for the drinks all evening. He could well afford it. When time was called, he didn’t look for a late bus, but took a cab home instead. His bachelor flat, as he liked to call it, was small and fairly comfortable, but a little sparse. When he got in, he stood looking around the living room. He was thinking about the possibility of new furnishings, and maybe he could have a small bar put in. With his new found wealth he could have down lights fitted to give the room a more luxurious feel. He could do so much. Because he had been knocking back expensive cocktails like there was no tomorrow, he would look into it tomorrow.

During the night, at a minute or two before midnight, he suffered from a massive cardiac arrest, and his heart suddenly stopped beating.

The moral being, you should never celebrate like there was no tomorrow.

Times had never been harder for her.

Her boyfriend had taken off, leaving her to scrape up enough money to pay the rent. She had been looking for work for more than a year. No job and no benefits. Her savings were all but gone. There was only one way left open to her. She didn’t want to do it. She hated the idea almost as much as the griping in her stomach. She asked herself, how important was it that she maintain her dignity. It had been pride that stopped her taking the next inevitable step. But now, she was standing looking at the building on the other side of the street. When all was said and done, she knew she was about to do what was necessary.

Inside the food bank, the young man, a volunteer, smiled as he handed her a box of food …

It could have happened to anybody.

It all took place so quickly. She was backing the car up the drive. He was crossing the driveway carrying the hedge clippers. She had been shopping. He had been pruning the hedge. When the rear bumper took out his legs it had sent him flying. When she saw what she had done she started screaming. He looked to be in particularly bad shape and only partly conscious. An ambulance was called, and with the bags of shopping forgotten, she followed. Remembering the tiff they had earlier made her feel terrible. She checked the mirror. Her cheeks were streaked with eye makeup. She did a rough job of cleaning herself up as she drove.

At the hospital he was assessed by a doctor for his injuries, who had arranged for him to be admitted. He was on painkillers and propped up in bed, while his wife was chatting with the nurses, telling them what an awful accident it had been and how upsetting it all was.

He’d always been able to tell when she was lying…

The police arrived at the house after receiving a call.

When the senior detective arrived, his subordinate officer was already there. He was shown into the lounge. The junior detective stood back. It was well known that his superior was a stickler for detail. He was known for taking detailed notes based on his observations. Notebook in hand the senior officer began walking around the room. As he approached the bookcase he noticed that one of the spines protruded, he read the title, a book on propagating seedlings, it may be significant, he wasn’t sure. He made a note, anyway. He noticed a pair of trainers under a chair, with only one sock draped across them. He made a note. He crouched down looking at what appeared to be a small fragment of wood. It was probably something that came in on somebody’s shoe, he thought. Using tweezers, he dropped it into a small evidence bag, and made a note. This went on for several minutes, with him finding several more things of interest and making the appropriate notes.

Finally, he left the room reading his notes, while the other paused to take a final look around the room, then followed. When the junior officer stepped back out into the hallway, he found the senior detective tapping the barometer.

“Didn’t you think it was unusual, the way the body was slumped across the armchair like that?” he said.

The senior man raised his eyebrows. “Body?”

She was stretched out on her living room couch reading a book.

Above all else, this was her most favourite thing. This time and place was valued beyond anything she could imagine. She was always in a state of complete relaxation and comfort when she was doing this. For all these reasons it was extremely annoying that her mobile phone should chime. When she looked down it was made worse by the fact that it was from an unknown caller. She was reluctant to stop what she was doing. She was enjoying her book and her special time out. If she didn’t answer it, they’d probably keep calling. She pressed the button and said, “Hello.”

There was a long silence before the caller whispered. “Sorry. I… I can’t believe you picked up.”

She frowned. “Who is this?”

Another few beats before the male voice said, “More to the point, who are you?”

“I’m hanging up!”

“No, please don’t. I’m the guy from the gym. We met last year. I was your personal trainer for a couple of weeks, I was filling in for someone. We had a coffee in the place across the road before you left for home. You remember, we both went to the same school?”

“Oh! Yes, I do remember. You were keen on sports cars, said you were about to buy one.”

“That’s me.”

An uncomfortable silence from her, followed by, “Well, OK. How can I help you?”

“Well, you can’t I suppose. I just got a new phone and I was deleting some of my old numbers I must have pressed ‘call’ by mistake. I’m sorry.”

She remembered him as being nice and was a little put out by the thought that she was being deleted. Of course, she couldn’t say that.

He went on. “No. This can’t be right.”

“What can’t be right?”

“You! You answering the phone.” He cleared his throat. “I’m back there you see? At the gym, I mean. One of the guys told me what happened to you.”

“What do you mean? Nothing happened to me. Is this some weird prank? If it is…”

“No! Not at all. It’s just that your old trainer told me he was pretty cut up about your accident. He… he attended your funeral.”

“OK! I’ve had enough!” she screamed, and rang off.

She felt sure that getting back into her book was going to be difficult. She picked it up and found the page. She began reading again when a low droning seemed to fill the room. She dropped the book when the ceiling light started to flicker. She was aware of a number of voices, then one of them called out, “Found her!”

His house being so close, he often took a walk in the park before getting his tea.

He was strolling through it when it happened. His first sight of the Rottweiler was when the owner was crouching down, removing the lead. It was a huge animal and he couldn’t help wondering whether this was a good idea. As he drew closer, he asked, “Should you be doing that?”

The owner looked up and smiled. “Oh! Don’t worry. People often think that. I’ve got quite used to being asked about him. It’s just his size, I think. He may look pretty menacing, but he’s just an old softy, he’s as gentle as a baby; he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” With that, the lead slipped off and the owner stood.

The dog took two steps towards the man and growled, showing its teeth.

The owner chuckled. “Look at him, he’s just showing off.”

With that the animal took several bounds and knocked the man to the ground. It had a firm grip on his arm and was reluctant to let it go. The victim of the attack was yelling when the owner finally came to the rescue and managed to pull the dog off.

The man on the ground pulled up his sleeve to reveal a nasty bite just above his wrist that was bleeding badly.

Before continuing to walk his dog, the owner said, “I must say that surprises me. He’s normally pretty good with strangers.” He tugged at the reconnected lead and walked away.

The man slowly stood up, stemming the blood loss by tightening his hand over the wound. “That’s good to know,” he murmured.

As he watched the dog owner go, it struck him that he looked a lot like the neighbour he’d recently had words with, about playing his music so loud at night. It was dark at the time… he couldn’t be sure.