Author: Alexander Fawn

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!”

It had been a horrible day.

Most traffic wardens face difficult situations at one time or another, but today he had one too many unhappy customers. It makes no difference when offenders complain about getting a ticket; they still get one, but they whine about it just the same. That last one! He actually pushed him away. That didn’t happen very often. It’s just as well, there are fairly strict rules about not getting physical with disgruntled car owners. All the same, he was only doing his job. Anyway, he knew a hot drink would cheer him up, it always did. He hadn’t visited this café before. It was a pretty dingy looking place, but the cappuccinos were good.

He looked around, there were half-a-dozen customers, mainly men, all sitting alone at tables. The man sitting closest was mumbling to himself, “Why me? It isn’t right, it shouldn’t have been me!” He tried smiling at the man to make him feel better, but it didn’t work. Out of nowhere, a waitress appeared. “Now, now,” she cooed at the grumbling man, “no point in getting yourself worked up. Would you like something else?” The man just glared at her. “OK,” she said, “you just let me know.”

She approached the newcomer. The smile had gone. “A traffic Warden, I see.” He looked down, he was still wearing his uniform, of course. “Don’t get too many of those, I can tell you that. Pity, I never liked you people.” She was a large woman with a pudgy face. She stood pouting at him, then with a lot of obvious effort, said, “And what can I get for you?”

“Another coffee would be nice.” Before she walked away, and not being put off by her attitude, he was used to it, he said, “This chap here,” he angled his head, “he seems to be very upset.”

“Yes, of course he is,” she whispered, “it was a roof job.”

“Roof job?”

She nodded and scowled down at him. “Shush. He fell off a roof. He’ll be OK. Just leave him alone. I’ll get your coffee.”

He sat staring around the café. There was something odd about the place. When she returned with his drink, he had more questions. “Your customers don’t seem very happy, has something happened?”

Still speaking in a low voice she sighed and reluctantly said, “They’re all locals, of course. Four of them are from the building collapse. Didn’t you hear about it?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“No, you probably wouldn’t. Too busy serving infringements, I suppose. Anyway, it happened this morning.” Her face softened and she pointed to a young woman sitting in the far corner. “That one was electrocuted at home. She’s in a daze, poor thing! Do you know, some people have no idea why they’re here.”

At that moment he had a sudden flashback. He saw the angry man waving his parking ticket at him and thumping him in the chest. Then there was the truck. He’d forgotten about the truck!

His eyes began to water. He said, “Sorry, I think I might be one of them.”

“Oh! Really? I thought you’d know, you being a traffic warden and all.” She giggled to herself. “Sorry, we’re just a holding place here. A sort of halfway house if you like. Just while your case is reviewed.”

He frowned. “What?”

“You know,” she said, “whether you go up or down. See the door there?”

He nodded.

“You’ll go through there when they’re ready for you.” She sneered at him. “In your case, it could be a while.”

He sat reflecting on the fact that his assailant’s meter had only gone over by two minutes.

Wearing a smirk, she said, “Another coffee?”

She finally made up her mind to put one in her living room.

Diffusers seemed to be the latest way to delicately scent your room. So many of the ladies from the women’s social club had bought them, and they’d all raved about how effective they were. Eventually, she went online looking at the vast selection. They weren’t too expensive and cheap to run. The one that caught her eye was not particularly attractive, but reading the description won her over. Apparently, this model came with a fragrant mood-inducing oil that was based on an entirely unique formula. It said it had the magical property to calm and soothe, and transport the purchaser into another place, and to allow an awakening of one’s most evocative senses.

The afternoon it arrived she definitely felt a thrill. She opened the packaging and sat carefully reading through the instructions with the idea that after tea she would get it going before settling down to watch the television. That’s how it happened, that’s when, after only a minute or two of watching a gentle stream of mist rise vertically from the top of the diffuser, it appeared. Smudge appeared. He was curled up at the end of the settee, just the way he always did, all those years ago. Of course, she knew he wasn’t real, but that didn’t matter. The discovery that there was no substance to it, no real physical presence, it was only an image that she could pass her hand through, no, it didn’t matter at all.

That first night, she didn’t put the television on at all. After the first excitement, after wiping away the tears, she sat with him beside her in a state of perfect contentment. She sat listening to him purring softly; watching the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the occasional twitching of his whiskers, and of course, despite him being a grey cat, that wonderful smudge of white on his forehead.

As the week’s passed, her evenings were spent in this blissful state. It became something of a special ritual that she looked forward to each day. She had decided that none of these unusual features would be shared with her friends. It would be their secret; just him and her.

Then came the recall… all those who had purchased the product were asked to return it and receive a full refund. The reasons for this were not made clear, just a vague warning that unwelcomed psychological side effects had be reported and that this constituted a possible risk to the purchaser’s health and wellbeing.

Of course, it goes without saying, Smudge wasn’t going anywhere!

Number one, can be fun.

Number two, for me and you.

Number three, for you and me.

Number four, is there for sure.

Number five, can fly and dive.

Number six, is in the mix.

Number seven, can be just heaven.

Number eight, is never late.

Number nine, is doing fine.

Number ten, starts it all again.

It was obvious that something was wrong and he needed to get to the bottom of it.

Things were not feeling at all good. He was struggling, looking for some elusive thing sitting deep within himself. Whatever it was, it also occupied the surrounding space. It was overwhelming and frighteningly profound. He felt that it could be grasped if only it was not buried in a great jumble of conflicting ideas and incompatible concepts, all railing against so many distorted realities. He knew that something had to be done!

Having never married and having no children, and regardless of the envy this brought about in those family relations he did have, his considerable fortune could quite happily be spent on himself. Despite never having to use the horny hands of toil, he regarded himself as a man of action. He realised that something just had to be done.

Within an hour of sitting on the edge of his king-size bed, feeling sorry for himself, he had made all necessary arrangements. By mid-morning a car arrived at the front of his mansion to take him to the airport, from where he travelled first class to Switzerland.

The seven-day health retreat in the exclusive clinic was everything he could have hoped for. Although feeling completely rejuvenated when he returned to his home, he nevertheless experienced a period of anxiety. After three days of waiting patiently for his final health report from the clinic to arrive by mail, he received a seventeen page dossier. He retired immediately to his comfortable study to read it.

And there it was, all summed up in the final line of the summary.

In a word… indigestion!

He sat quietly, lost in thought, hardly seeing the expanse of trees and fields in front of him.

It was one of his favourite seats, places for rest and seclusion scattered around the open park. A landscape so large that it never seemed to fill. Always a quiet spot available for contemplation. He had so much to contemplate; issues that would fill the park and spill over into the beyond; marriage, work, debts… His wife was away at her sister’s. He really didn’t know whether she was coming back. That was a fact. Losing his job and having bills pile up was not helping. He had to take responsibility for all of it. He hung his head .He closed his eyes and shook his head. Well, didn’t he? It was his life, he had made it all what it is.

So lost in thought, he jumped violently as a bird squawked loudly overhead. He opened his eyes and looked up. He watched it glide to the distant pond and land slowly on the water. He looked around at what he saw. A sudden and completely unexpected thrill ran through him. He saw beauty. He saw the sky, the trees, the great sweep of grass… it was all so, well, it was just so right, so perfect! He was staring at what nature was doing all around him and he was filled with wonder.

This euphoric moment was just that, a moment, a short few short seconds that passed as suddenly as it came. It had burst in upon him. Just a fleeting glimpse into the bounty of a world of treasures in front of him, but it had passed. It was no longer there, replaced by issues, issues and problems and unavoidable sadness.

For him, it was a sadness routed in the belief that he couldn’t get it back…

He was looking through a number of old family photos when he spotted the girl.

Then, sifting back through, he found her time and time again. She was a pretty thing, around six or seven, about his own age back then. He remembered her as a regular playmate. As he stared at the pictures, memories came flooding back. He remembered now, how his parents had told him that she was his imaginary playmate. They had been tolerant and understanding about it at the time, saying that it was quite a normal thing for young kids to do and that it was something he would grow out of. It all seemed such a long time ago now. His father had passed away early but his mother still lived in the old house. The same house and garden that he was looking at now.

He found the whole thing very confusing. Looking at the girl in the pictures, he remembered her perfectly well. She was a regular visitor and they really hit it off. He wondered why his parents had told him she didn’t exist. No reasonable explanation came to mind and he would certainly ask his mother about it during his next visit. In the meantime, he found all those photos with her in them and placed them safely in an envelope.

It was soon after this discovery that he visited his mother and told her about it. He was looking forward to getting to the bottom of it. She listened patiently with a smile and asked to see what he had brought. He open the envelope and spread the photos out in a line across the dining table while she put her reading glasses on. He sat staring at them once again.

And there she was, gone…