Author: Alexander Fawn

He was in town and about to cross the street when he saw the man coming out of a shop.

The man he was looking at was him! The man’s picture was on the news the night before. What was his name? No, he couldn’t remember. Doesn’t matter though, does it? He was looking at the FBI’s most wanted terrorist. He was having a job to take it all in. What did the news report say? Do not approach, as he is considered to be armed and dangerous. What else? Yes, that’s right, there’s a reward of up to five million dollars for information that leads directly to either his apprehension or conviction. That’s a lot of money, but he needs to be very careful about what he does next.

He doesn’t cross over. Instead, he follows the criminal from the other side of the road while hanging back. This gave him time to think. He took out his mobile phone and rang the emergency number. He was put through to the police. After a brief exchange, the detective he’d been patched through to said the man in question was approaching a CCTV camera on the corner of the street.

After a couple of minutes the voice on the phone said, “Yes, we’ve got him. Hang on. Just a minute.” The phone went silent and the caller kept walking. He heard a crackling as his phone came back to life. “Hello. Yes, we’ve identified him.”

“You have? That’s great!”

“He’s a butcher.”

“I know he is.”

“No, no, he’s a real butcher!”

“Oh! I’ve no doubt about that, I saw the media report last night. I assure you I’ll be very careful.”

“Listen, you’re not getting the message. He’s not a terrorist, he’s a butcher. You know, he cuts up meat and poultry and sells it. For goodness sake, the guy makes sausages!”

Supressing both surprise and deep disappointment at the same time, and before ringing off, he managed to murmur, “Oh!”

She was just another old lady, sitting in the corner of a cafeteria.

To any casual observer, there was nothing to set her apart from any other well-dressed woman of her age. The place was always crowded around midday and this was just about the only reason she sat there now, sipping her tea. It was lunch time for many of the town’s workers and the hall was not only packed, but noisy. She didn’t mind the clamour of it, it was something she sought. In fact, the general hubbub of it all provided solace. Just sitting here made her feel she was a part of a society that she had never really connected with. Put simply, she was in her comfort zone. As peculiar as it might sound, she was not so much lonely, but a loner.

To say that she was lonely would not cover it; not by half. It had been the way of it with her since very early childhood. She had never found it easy to get on with others, to share their hopes and dreams, to care about their problems and personal misfortunes. There had never been the desire to want and find a childhood friend. That in itself being the intrinsic part of her character that had set a path for the rest of her life. She had often wondered how many others fell to this same malady; how many similar sufferers outside of her world spent their time and money attending sessions with psychiatrists and therapists. This was not something she would ever consider.

She had often given thought to the strange dilemma that had her both seeking and avoiding company. More than company. Wasn’t it affection that was missing from her life? What about devotion and fondness? Certainly no passion or intimacy had ever been there for her. She had never known a partner or even a close friend.

She looked around at the diners. All talking, eating and laughing. She looked at their ages and their dress, their obvious enjoyment of sharing and caring. She would receive occasional glances. What would they see? They would see just another old lady, sitting in the corner of a cafeteria.

On this particular occasion she was quite close to a similar corner table that was likewise only occupied by a single customer. It was a man of middle age, not eating, but occasionally sipping from a cup. He appeared to be intent on reading. It took several moments before she realised that he was actually reading braille. She watched with interest for some time as the blind man ran his fingertips gently back and forth across the page of his open book. As she sat staring, it struck her that she felt such contentment at being able to scrutinize him without the hindrance of any unwanted connection.

He sat for an hour. She sat for an hour.

In the weeks that followed, all she could think of was how she would really like to know what the word ‘love’ feels like.

It was the gap in the hedge that he began to hate.

The front of the house was in a bit of a state.

He really needed to improve his estate.

It could really do with a proper update,

And about the problem he began to fixate.

–

To do the chore he’d come up with a date,

But putting it off wasn’t up for debate.

A hinged barrier would be great.

He would have to consider its colour and weight.

–

He knew it was something that he could create.

The size of the gap the width would dictate,

With timber strong, but still lightweight.

It needed to be smart, but not ornate.

–

He knew he had a lot on his plate,

And he’d need to borrow tools from his mate.

So, the morning he started it was just gone eight.

He laboured away at a steady rate.

He worked all day and hardly ate.

–

The hinges were oiled so they wouldn’t grate,

And the posts either side were perfectly straight.

To get it all finished, he could hardly wait.

By the time it was done it was really late.

He considered the finished job was first-rate.

He would write a short poem to celebrate.

But his hopes for this would soon deflate,

As his search for words began to stagnate.

–

The exercise stalled and it began to frustrate.

He was stumped for a word that rhymed with gate!

It was the kind of disturbing event that you could do without.

Especially while taking a stroll in order to clear the head and think quietly for a while. He would often get out and take a slow walk in the local forest whenever he needed to relax and concentrate on weighty affairs. He was doing just that when he heard a sudden rustling. It seemed to be close by. Interested to see whether an animal was about to cross his path he stood silently beside a tree and waited. After a few moments he caught site of what seemed to be movement. There was a strange shimmering before a small figure appeared. As it came closer, he could see that it was a tiny man. It appeared to be an elderly dwarf strolling along, looking at a tiny pocket watch.

He slowly moved back behind the tree and continued to stare in disbelief.

The creature returned the timepiece to its waistcoat and took a step up into thin air. To his amazement he saw it take another step up, going higher and higher, as though climbing and invisible staircase. It was a spiral staircase because the dwarf went around and around several times. At the top it stopped, then strolled along in mid-air where it stopped again and looked up.

It seemed to take hold of something and amble its way back along what was probably a balcony of some sort, although there was absolutely nothing to see. At this point he could make out that it was carrying a tiny book. At the top of the staircase, it paused to flip through a few pages. Apparently satisfied, it proceeded to make its way down the spiral, finally stepping back onto the ground again at the bottom.

As it waddled away, the man came forward a little to watch it go, stepping on a twig as he did. It made a crack. The dwarf turned and peered up at the man.

“Sorry,” the man said, still in a state of shock, “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I mean, I can’t believe… well, I mean…” He stood gaping while the tiny manlike creature came a little closer, adjusting its spectacles and scrutinizing the intruder.

After a moment it shrugged and said, “Sorry, the library’s closed.”

And with a shimmer, it was gone.

There was a tale writer from Perth

Who would scribble for all he was worth.

His yarns were not slim,

But full to the brim,

Because he would eke out as many naming nouns, replacing pronouns, communicative verbs, expressive adjectives, descriptive adverbs, modifying prepositions, joining conjunctions, and dramatic interjections as he could possibly unearth.

He sat on the rocky outcrop, taking in the scene.

The place was huge. It was filled with a tumult of people. As he looked across his vast, flickering empire, he allowed ancient and precious memories to come flooding back. He did this often. These fleeting thoughts; anguished thoughts of a quite different kind of life-everlasting, no longer possible.

He looked out through smoke and fire and frowned out upon the huge swirling mass of tortured spirits. No redemption for the souls captured here. No redress possible to relieve their sorrow or their dread. So many souls spending time after poor bargains, bad decisions, trapped in a place where time itself plays no part. Their choices, their decisions, are reflected in his own. His own act of defiance with his maker.

All ugly events metered out here are subject to nothing beyond his ultimate whim. Although cast into these nethermost regions, he had no masters here. But… how he wished he could trade away this power for what was once his. No. He was forever denied even a glimpse of paradise.

And all this would never pass; for he was Lucifer, and this was hell.

Any passers-by would have no idea what it was thinking.

They would never guess that for as long as it could remember, the old house had yearned to travel.

It was no ordinary thought. But there again, it was no ordinary building. Many years ago, probably a hundred or so, the house was owned by a great magician. He was known all over the world for his performances and as a result, travelled widely. This meant that the house would stand idle and empty for long periods.

Although the magician was famous, in his private life he was a quiet man who preferred his own company. So, it came to pass that he placed a spell on the house in order that he could hold telepathic conversations with it whenever he wanted. All this being so long ago, quite naturally all such conversations have stopped, but something of the original spell lingers on. As a result, the house has this burning desire to be somewhere else, for a change.

But it wasn’t looking good. It was only last week that the red maple tree in the front garden said that it was a really stupid idea and something that could just never happen. Both the house and the tree felt that these exchanges were made possible by virtue of the fact that the tree had grown up so close to the house, with some of its branches stroking the walls. It was decided that this had given the tree the ability to think and communicate with the house. Of course, they couldn’t be sure of this; after all, they were just a tree and a house.

It seems that the house never went anywhere, proving that the tree knew best. Unfortunately, this being the case, there was a gradual decline in the level of cordiality between them.

It goes without saying, that any passers-by would have no idea that this was the case. People, being what they are, would probably say that it was a really stupid idea and something that could just never happen.

But, hey! People have absolutely no idea just how much of this sort of thing is actually going on…

He knew how important this job was to him.

He also knew that he only had one shot at it. The word was that the company’s criteria were strict, but he felt that getting this far was a really positive sign. The young man had taken particular care with his dress and was conscious of his manners and body language. The receptionist was nice. He had declined a glass of water, but the offer was appreciated. The offices were plush with expensive looking furnishings. He sat waiting to be called.

The girl at the reception desk called out, “You can go through now; first door on the right.” With a smile and a nod, he got up and walked steadily to the door and knocked softly. A voice called out, “Enter”.

He went into a large well-appointed office. The manager stood up, shook his hand and waived him to a chair. The manager shuffled papers for a moment, then looked up with a welcoming smile. He passed a questionnaire across the desk.

“It’s a very simple test,” he said, pointing at the papers, “everybody does this, we have a policy of inclusivity here. You are only required to tick either the ‘yes’ or the ‘no’ box for each question. It is weighted you understand. We use the software associated with the questionnaire to create a psychological profile.”

 

The applicant flipped over a couple of pages. They were filled with questions, together with boxes running down the margins.

The manager handed him a pen. “You need to use this. It’s designed so that the software can read your answers.” He then pointed to a small table and chair in the corner. “You can sit there. Take your time. Just let me know when you’ve finished.”

He moved to the table and sat looking at his own personal details printed at the top of the cover page before looking over the questionnaire’s contents. He picked up the pen and began.

The questionnaire read

• Are you a law abiding citizen?
• Do you have a criminal record?
• Do you have a history of drug use?
• Are you heavily in debt?
• Does power for its own sake interest you?
• Would you put yourself first and not your country?
• Do you have any military experience?
• Do you feel that you are a born leader?
• Do you have a natural talent for influencing people?
• Do you like to take responsibility for making decisions?
• Before making a decision do you contemplate all the pros and cons?
• Do you always do what is expected of you to avoid criticism?
• Do you find routine boring?
• Are you concerned about what others think of you?
• Do you accurately estimate the amount of time it will take to complete a task?
• Do you make to-do lists?
• When you are criticized, do you avoid taking it personally?
• Do you make comments that you wish you could take back?
• Do you procrastinate?
• Generally, do you think people can be trusted?
• Do you tend to take things personally?
• Do you get upset when things don’t go your way?
• Do you feel useless at times?
• Are you happy to be a follower?
• Do you feel you are a person of worth?
• When you sense that people dislike you, do you usually feel offended?
• Do you take a positive attitude toward yourself?
• Do you feel that you have a number of good qualities?
• Are you satisfied with your current lifestyle?
• Can you blend in with a crowd?
• Do you like being the centre of attention?
• Can you usually talk your way out of things?
• Do you regard yourself as a special person?
• Do you tend to be a fairly cautious person?
• Are you essentially a modest person?
• Do you feel that you are no better or worse than most people?
• Do you always accept the consequences of your own behaviour?
• When people compliment you, do you sometimes get embarrassed?
• Do you usually get the respect that you deserve?
• Can you tell if someone is lying?
• Do you find that people are sometimes hard to understand?
• Can you make anybody believe anything you want them to?
• Do you find it easy to manipulate people?
• Do you sometimes depend on other people to get things done?
• Would you make a good leader?
• Do you always know what you are doing?
• Do you just want to be reasonably happy?
• If you ruled the world would it be a better place?
• Do you find that you usually show off if you get the chance?
• Do you like to do things for other people?
• Would you like to have authority over other people?
• Do you expect a great deal from other people?
• Does abstract thinking appeal to you?
• Do you take your satisfactions as they come?
• Are you concerned about being a success?
• Do you like to be complimented?
• Do you think there is a lot that you can learn from other people?
• Can you cope with unpredictable experiences?
• Do you care about new fads and fashions?
• Do you feel that people always recognize your authority?
• Would you be able to handle investigating somebody who was a threat to your life?
• Do you hope that you are going to be successful?
• Can you handle loud noises and chaotic scenes?
• Do you feel you are more capable than other people?
• Overall, would you say you’re satisfied with yourself?

When he was finished he stood. He rolled his shoulders a couple of times, before taking the completed papers back to the manager, who took them with a smile and fed the pages into a machine. The screen on the top flickered and a buzzing sound indicated that the checking process was underway. The manager said, “It should only take a moment.”

The young man said, “Thank you.” He sat down, coughed politely, straightened his tie and waited patiently.

The sound stopped and a printout was produced. The manager gave him a smile saying, “congratulations. If you take this across to the door opposite, the Human Resources people will arrange things for you. Congratulations again.”

As he was leaving the office, the manager enquired, “By the way, do you know how to fry chicken?”

Things poetic come forward unbidden,

No reliance on a need to express.

No requirement to juggle a balance

Between value and truth, just observed,

No more, and no less.

–

They restore any damage to justice.

They play along with the rhythm of time.

They are part of an eternal beauty.

Both natural and sublime.

–

Breezes fanning, waves splashing,

Thunder rolling, lightning flashing.

 

 

Leaves dancing, winds blowing,

Clouds dispersing, rainbows showing.

–

Galaxies swirling, planets dwarfing,

Stars appearing, seasons morphing.

–

There is no moral entanglement,

As they appear on nature’s scene.

Both in and out of harmony,

Miraculous… yet routine.

He had the chess board set up and was waiting for his younger brother to arrive.

Just about once a week they would catch up for a game and an update on how their now, quite separate lives were going. They had always shared a love of chess and music. It happened that this was also the evening when he’d get confirmation that their tickets for an upcoming music concert had been purchased. His brother was notorious for always leaving things to the last minute, so he had his fingers crossed. It didn’t look good when he arrived late and seemed flustered.

He walked in shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m late. I’ve been on the concert hall’s website, trying to buy a second ticket. It must have sold out incredibly fast. When I logged on, there was just one ticket left for all three nights. Of course, I grabbed it, but…”

His older brother finished for him. “But we can’t both go to the performance on the night; is that it?

“No. Sorry. I’m sure I could sell it, and we could just give it a miss. What do you reckon?”

“Seems a shame doesn’t it? I think one of us should go.” He thought for a moment. “We could play for it. Yes, why not? Simple solution; we play our regular game and the winner gets the ticket.”

With that agreed they settled down in front of the board.

Unlike most evenings the game was soon over, with the older brother winning for a change.

The younger one slumped back in his chair with a frown. “Wow! That was the fastest game I can remember,” he said.

His brother sat nodding with a grin, he said, “Yep.”

“And you won.”

“Yep.”

“But I always win, let’s face it, you’re pretty hopeless!”

“Not really.”

“What do you mean, not really?”

“I suppose I just get a kick out of how happy you look when you win.”

“So, you’re saying you’ve been letting me win?”

“Yes, well, I guess you could call it my backup. You know, something for a rainy day. I was just setting myself up for a time when I really needed it.”

The young brother raised his eyebrows. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, this is usually played just for fun… but, heh! This was for a Baroque Music Concert!”