Author: Alexander Fawn

Everyone on board heard the horrible scraping sound coming from below.

The captain announced that the hull had been breached and ordered the crew to man the lifeboats. With great efficiency lifeboats were lowered on either side of the cruise ship. The cry went up from around the ship to make way for women and children first. This went smoothly until a commotion could be heard coming from one of the boats. There seemed to be some argument about the age of a child. One of the ship’s crew, who was organising his section of the crowd, was telling a boy to get out and let the children on first. Admittedly, he was a big lad. He looked to be around six foot tall and well built. The dinghy held over a hundred, but only two young boys had managed to get in before the large person joined them. His mother was saying that he was under the age of eighteen, and she should know!

Before long the parents of other children were getting impatient, some agreeing that rules are rules, with others saying they should forget it and get on with the business of getting off a sinking ship. This led to serious shouting matches and a few scuffles. One man received a blow to the head, apparently from a large handbag, and his head was bleeding. He was ushered away to be treated as best as possible. The large boy at the centre of the controversy said he would get off if that was what people wanted.

At this, his mother began screaming, saying that she wouldn’t let him, as there was a principle at stake. She shouted out above the noise of the restless passengers that her son was not even seventeen until June and she was absolutely disgusted at the behaviour of those saying they should break the rules in order to save their own skin. She began to explain what was wrong with people today, when she too was knocked to the ground.

Meanwhile, the rest of the passengers had made their way into the other lifeboats and were watching the coast guard’s rescue vessels approach on the other side of the ship.

At the end of the day, all reached land safely with just a few cuts and bruises. No doubt, because of the subsequent newspaper articles and speculation regarding the debacle over age, a lot of them would be carrying out internet searches when they got home, with many of those, being disappointed to learn that the ‘women and children first’ code of conduct has no basis in maritime law.

It may even be the case that a few might wonder whether it would have helped to know that… or not.

It was all about the cat.

It had always been all about Tiddles. She had always loved it more than him. The cat could do no wrong, but he could! Her obsession with her cat was more than he could take. The animal was doted on by her to the point where he just couldn’t take it anymore. To what degree he had been driven into a state of blind madness, no one would ever know. He carefully covered the grave with twigs and leaves. No one would ever know. She went to visit her sister, but never got there. No one knows why. No one would ever know.

When he got home, the cat began meowing around his ankles, he only just managed to stop himself from kicking it when a phone sounded. It came from all her personal belongings he’d stripped from the body. It was a text message, from her! It read, ‘I know what you did. Don’t forget to feed Tiddles, or else!’

In a way, the madness returned. It was a different kind of madness. He would always feed and be very nice to the cat… why?

No one would ever know.

The first time it happened during the evening they all got one hell of a shock, except him.

They were all sitting around watching television when he sauntered in looking for his scarf. “Scarf, scarf,” he whispered and spent an age rummaging through a pile of newspapers.

Maybe he thought he’d left it there, who knows? Izzy, that’s his sister, started screaming. He said nothing. Mum looked as though she was going into cardiac arrest, so he moved over and put his arm around her.

“It’s OK,” he said, “It doesn’t last long. He’ll give up in a minute and leave.”

Wide eyed and shaking, she asked, “You know this, how?”

“Oh! It’s happened a few times. I was pretty upset the first time myself, but I guess I’ve just got used to it. He was always losing things. You know that, right?”

“Yes, but this…”

At this point Dad threw his arms up and stormed out.

Mum blew her knows and said, “You’ve seen this before?”

“Yeah, usually during the day though, when you’re at work and she’s at school.”

They both looked over at his younger sister, who had stopped screaming and had slipped into some zombie-like state.

“The last time it happened,’ he said, “Dad came into the garage looking for his car keys. I tried speaking to him, but it was like he didn’t even know I was there. The other times it was his hat, his glasses and his wallet. It’s always the same; he turns up mumbling about some item he’s lost. I guess he just never made it over. To the other side, I mean.”

She dabbed at her eyes again. “Oh! The poor dear. I remember the feeling I had at the funeral, that he wasn’t really gone. It made me feel quite stupid, but now I know.”

He smiled. “Right.”

She whispered, “But what can we do?”

“Nothing really. He’s not doing any harm, and I reckon the day he shows up looking for his life, the penny will drop.”

The ticking of clocks,

And the passing of day and night.

The swing of a pendulum,

A power out of sight.

Itself having no before or after,

Neither being free nor bound.

Caught between linear and cyclic,

With no proper definition ever found.

–

Standing alone,

It has no brother.

Elementary particles interacting,

Each with each other.

–

It never pauses, standing still, undecided.

Such a changing entity being illusory.

Nothing there is that goes beyond the sway of time,

Ideas like this are just delusory.

–

A great eternal timelessness,

Seen through nature and her elements.

Its passage seen to beat in unison,

But this is only based on sentiments.

–

Man made special by

His knowing that it’s there.

Those occupied with wanting more

Are hindered by the lack of where!

I’ve no idea where I am or how I got here.

There are lots of others here with me, all sitting around trying to make up their minds. They don’t seem to know any more than me. There’s a buzz going round that were in some kind of resting place; a sort of ‘time out’ thing. If there’s anyone in charge I haven’t seen them. I don’t think I’ve been here very long. I was handed a list when I arrived; we all got one. Apparently, for the time we are here we can be anything we choose. It’s a long list, full of the names of characters. I suppose that’s what you’d call them. Some of them I’ve never heard of.

Of course, I’ve heard of vampires, elves, dragons and zombies. I know about Mutants, Imps, Griffins, Werewolves and Bigfoot. I also know about unicorns, ogres, ghosts and count Dracula. I think I know what a golem and a cyclops is, but I’ve never heard of a Sasquatch or a wendigo. The list just goes on and on!

I’m pretty fond of horses, so Pegasus appealed at first. That is, until I thought about flying. Was sick on a plane once.

I’ve always been fascinated by mermaids, but being a boy, the thought of having the head and body of a woman wouldn’t feel right, but the tail would be cool. I guess a centaur would be better, being half-man and half-horse.

Being a will-of-the-wisp sounded OK. My grandad used to tell stories about them, but he never explained what they actually were.

I quite fancied being a shapeshifter, but it’s not on the list.

There was a sound at the door. He didn’t hear it. Nor did he feel the monster comic book being slid from his hands and placed on the bedside table.

It started in the washroom.

He was sloshing water on his face to improve his demeanour. When he looked up he saw this face glaring at him. He didn’t recognise it and told whoever it was to back off. It just stayed there staring, with a nasty expression. He began shouting at it but it didn’t go away. Finally, he punched whoever it was on the nose and walked away. He felt better for that and staggered out into the shopping centre. The mirror being polished metal only dented slightly.

He wasn’t sure where he was, not exactly, anyway. He just felt the need to get out; find some fresh air. After only a few paces down the main shopping aisle he caught sight of the same troublemaker following him. Just glimpses now and then. He came to a halt outside a book shop. He was trying to read the titles when he came face to face with the guy again. He was standing right there in front of him, defiant as ever. He’d had enough. He stood landing blow after blow and screaming abuse. A small crack appeared in the glass. Suddenly, he was grabbed by two burly security guards who marched him outside where they waited for the police wagon. He stood looking at his blooded fists.

At the station, the charge sheet read, ‘disturbing the peace and wilful damage to property’. The young police officer who brought him in commented, “He must have been out of his mind!”

The senior officer replied, “Nah. LSD’ll do that!”

His uncle had lived a charmed life.

Now that he had passed away and the will was read, all the gossip and tension that had been building about who was going to get what was finally resolved. He personally hadn’t expected much, despite being something of a favourite. It was inevitable that the closer family members would each receive their share of the great fortune the old man left behind. As for him, he had been left his uncle’s prized stamp collection, and no doubt it was worth a great deal. It came to him in the form of a large, leather-bound album. It contained a huge number of stamps. He decided to sit down with it one evening and work his way through it.

It was during this particular evening that the paper was discovered. It was tucked into a pocket on the inside of the back cover. It was some kind of parchment made of animal skin, folded in half and giving no outward sign that it was anything special. When opened, it contained script that appeared to have been hand-written in ink.

It read:

By possessing this parchment, the following ills may never befall you.

Suffering chronic or painful illness

Experiencing loss of sight, hearing or speech

Having possessions destroyed by fire

Experiencing loss of employment

Being a victim of fraud

Undergoing loss of home

Being falsely accused

Suffering a threat to life

Undergoing imprisonment

Being witness to a crime

Facing home invasion

Having possessions stolen

Receiving unwanted correspondence

Living with rude neighbours

Receiving fines or penalties

He sat for a long time marvelling at the list. He had always been a worrier. This was exactly what he needed. He really had been a favourite and his uncle had rewarded him with a treasure that was obviously far greater than anything left to others. Since possession of it seemed to have great significance he folded it further and tucked it firmly into his wallet. It would go with him everywhere and protect him from misfortune.

This went well, right up to the point where he lost his wallet somewhere in the city. This was followed by a great deal of time and effort exhausting every possible avenue to recover it. How could this have happened? How could he lose it? He thought back. He had read it so often that he could remember it word for word. He had been protected against loss of sight, hearing or speech, also home and employment. Nothing could be stolen or lost in a fire, but now that he thought about it, there had been nothing about the loss of personal possessions.

Being something of a worrier, he began thinking about those things he was no longer protected against.

In a London pub a man sat drinking at a bar.

Nothing unusual about that, you might think. Although, you could say that this man had a checkered past. He had certainly experienced a number of ups and downs. As it happens, he was an extremely bright fellow. He had been drinking for a while before striking up a conversation with another patron. It may simply have been the drink that had him open up to a complete stranger, and it was probably due to the fact that he’d been drinking longer than the other that had him rambling on. Presumably, he thought his life interesting enough to dominate the conversation. The man he was talking to didn’t recognise him, and there was no reason why he should.

At first they talked about the great wave of pestilence that had swept through their city. They then went on to exchange views about the local theatre that had burnt to the ground and had recently been rebuilt. The man described himself as a prolific reader, who had dreamt of becoming a great actor. He had written a lot of poetry. He saw them as private poems, but one of his patrons decided to publish them. He talked about his children; first a daughter, then twins, a boy and a girl. He explained that there were complications when giving birth to the twins and it meant that his wife was unable to have more after that. Unhappily the boy died when he was only eleven. With this he became very sad.

The other, having seemingly tired of the conversation, stated that he needed to get home. He offered his commiserations and left.

The man sat alone, quietly finishing his drink before he too got up and left.

It was an incident in Cheapside.

The pub was the Mermaid Tavern, the year was 1642, and the man was William Shakespeare.

The two men were moving slowly through someone else’s house.

The older man was saying, “This’ll be just a quick in-and-out job. The boss wants the package delivered to him personally straight after the job, and what Mr Big says, goes. Just remember that. Straight after he said. It must be important.”

“What, tonight you mean?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh! I didn’t know that. Where does he live?”

“Don’t you fret now, he only lives five blocks from here.”

The younger man looked relieved. “That’s good then. I have choir practice tonight.”

“You’re kidding, of course.”

“Not at all. I’m the lead tenor,” he replied, with obvious pride.

The other sniffed and they moved into the study and switched the desk lamp on.

“Wow! What a beauty, look at the size of it! No wonder we have to blow it.”

“When you say blow it, you mean… he gave a nervous grin, it’s just that I thought you’d be using a stethoscope, crouched down listening to the tumblers… that sort of thing.”

In the dim light the younger man watched as the other began weighing something in his hand. He was also reading a label. “Let’s see, would that be ten or a hundred?” he mumbled.

“What’s that?”

“C4. Nothing to worry about. Stable until you prime it.” He continued doing calculations in his head. “Hundred then. Maybe a little more for this beauty. Yes, hundred and five, or even hundred and ten. I’ll go for a hundred and ten.”

The young man was looking nervous, but he was saying nothing.

“Any external damage would be minuscule,” the other murmured, pushing the detonator into what looked like a large ball of putty.

The young man could no longer keep quiet. “You’re saying minuscule.”

“Yes, extremely small.”

“Yes, I know what it means. I can’t help wondering whether you are underestimating the risk of this thing going wrong.”

“Stop worrying. The guy I got it from told me this is an LPD. It’ll give us plenty of time to move back through the house.”

“OK. LPD?”

“Long Period Delay detonator.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look, you’re just the driver, right? I only agreed to you coming in with me because you seemed so interested.”

He fiddled with it a little longer before saying, “OK. Let’s move back to the lounge room, just to be safe.”

They were huddled down at the back of the settee, when the older man said, “It might be a good idea to put your fingers in your ears.”

That never happened.

At that point, five blocks away, Mr Big heard the explosion.

It is fair to say that he was a nobody.

He had never felt the need to be remembered. There are those among us that dearly want to leave a mark on the world or have a burning need to make a difference. He was not one of them. In truth, he had no desire to be an active member of his community. His parents had both passed on and he’d never married. He had considered owning a pet, but it had never happened. He knew very few people. There are nonentities out there that are quite comfortable with their lack of importance. It has never been fully appreciated that hermits live among us.

Then, one evening, this unknown man, in an unknown town, in an unknown apartment, in an unknown room, in an unknown bed, at an unknown time, passed away in a state of perfect contentment.