Author: Alexander Fawn

The holy man felt that he had the right to complain to the almighty one.

Being so incredibly holy (and please don’t ask where the likes of us gets these people from) he got in touch. He felt that humankind had taken a wrong path somewhere. He couldn’t help feeling that, regardless of the undeniable improvements in things like modern life-saving medicines, improved communication systems, great strives forward in the field of agriculture and so on, the human race was still plagued with things like pestilence, famine, wars, ethnic prejudices and social inequalities, to name but a few. His consideration was that people have never been this uncertain about what their future might hold. He maintained that something definitely went awry somewhere.

After politely expressing his point of view, he said, “I humbly turn to you, almighty one, for a solution to our troubles.”

“It’s a bit late for that, I’m afraid,” the almighty one said, peering down and taking it all in.

“It is?”

“Yes, I see it now,” came the reply, with a happy realisation in the voice. “I think it all went pear-shaped around a couple of million years ago.”

“It did?”

A chortle could be heard, followed by, “Oops! I certainly didn’t intend you people to maturate beyond Homo habilis…”

The man from number seventeen spoke several languages.

It was because of this that the homeowner at number four had contacted him with an unusual request.

Although he didn’t really know the man from up the street, he gave him a ring. He said he would be doing him a great favour by calling at his house at a time that was convenient. He said that he felt sure the man would be most interested in what he had to show him. The expert agreed to call in on the following afternoon. He sounded as though he was quite happy with the idea of a visit, on the basis that he was always willing to give advice to friends and neighbours. He thanked him very much and rang off. When the expert came to his house on the following day, he would explain that he’d found a rabbit nibbling on his back lawn and had no idea where it had come from.

Then, he would go on to describe how the animal kept making strange, guttural noises. After that, keeping his fingers crossed that he was right, he would tell him that he was convinced that the rabbit was speaking Spanish!

On the following day, the language expert arrived and they were soon in the back yard with the rabbit laying on the garden table. He’d been brought up to date with all that the homeowner could tell him. Although highly sceptical about what he’d been told, the visitor was interested to hear the sounds the animal was supposed to make.

After a while the animal began muttering.

The visitor put his ear close to the rabbit’s head and listened intently for several minutes. The other stood by patiently, hoping that some sort of explanation came out of the strange event.

Meanwhile, and to the man’s utter astonishment, he could hear the rabbit saying, in Spanish, and repeatedly, “I hate the nasty girl from number twelve who owns me and I don’t want to go back there, ever!”

Not wanting to remain involved in any of the current circumstances, the language expert stood up rubbing his chin. “No,” he said.

“No, what?” said the nervous homeowner, beginning to feel foolish.

“Not Spanish,” lied the expert. “I think it’s Portuguese. I’m fluent with a number of languages; unhappily, Portuguese is not one of them,” he lied again.

Both relieved and disappointed at the same time, the homeowner bent over the animal and listened to the unfamiliar words. He mumbled to himself, “I just don’t know what to do.”

Looking up, he found the expert opening his side gate, saying, “So sorry I couldn’t help,” as he disappeared.

It was a special day for the couple.

The day his son was born, while the mother was resting, he accompanied the nurse through to the room where the infant was measured and weighed. It was then that the nurse pointed out that the baby had a small birthmark on his buttock. It was an arrangement of five dots in a square, with one at each corner and one in the middle. It looked for all the world like the dots that represented a five on the face of a die. She seemed to know all about it. She said that it was a quincunx and an ancient symbol that represented good luck. Being something of a superstitious person and being aware that it happened to be the fifth day of the month, the day of the Grand National, he saw this as an opportunity that shouldn’t be missed.

He knew his wife wouldn’t approve, so without broadcasting the fact, he scraped together five thousand and placed a bet on the horse having number five on its saddlecloth.

He had it in mind that he would make a generous donation to the hospital with the winnings.

As it happened, when it came in fifth, to make himself feel better about the whole thing, he secretly blamed the nurse.

He was cleaning house.

He went around gathering up all those things that the woman had given him. LPs, books, magazines, coffee mug, tee-shirts, ties, slippers… When they were all gathered in a pile on the bed, he got a large, heavy-duty box and threw them all in. Then he sealed it with industrial grade packing tape. He walked back through the rooms, feeling he’d overlooked something. He spent several more minutes wandering around looking for anything he may have missed, before it suddenly came to him. There was the other stuff. He got together every single memory of her, along with her smile, her deceit, her promises and her lies. Gathering these last items together, he crushed them into an imaginary box and sealed it just as securely as the other. He returned to the box and slit the flaps open with a sharp knife and dropped the smaller box in.

After resealing it, he carried it out into the yard where he tossed it into the skip.

Deep within the forest you can find the ancient ruins of a stone-built chapel.

Such a place is made difficult to visit, with its heavy undergrowth and clusters of thick brambles, to only find broken walls. It is all that remains, to say what it once was. It is one of these upright pieces that has a hole where a missing stone affords a view to a remarkable parade of scenes. Each one, entirely separate from those before and after. These can be viewed, but only by those who are privy to the exact time and date that this occurs; this being just once a year. For such folk, to whom it is given to know, may watch, as the kaleidoscope of images go by.

The story goes that such things as a team of unicorns racing away into the distance, a tower of white marble at night, with all its windows lit, a swarm of locusts creating a great circular pattern across the sky, a troop of mandrills tumbling over and down a waterfall, a clown astride a horse juggling multicoloured balls, a beggar dressed in a cat suit strumming a lute and an elephant on its back spinning a large sequined ball with all four feet. All these and more are there, for those who can see.

Considering the nature of these ostentatious trifles, I can’t for the life of me understand why anybody would bother!

He was making his way down the steps when he heard it.

It seemed to be surprisingly loud when he considered that he wasn’t even in the building. It had to be the security alarm from the shop. What could have set it off? Maybe something had fallen over, only moments after he left. As always, he’d been very careful when removing the glass panels from the jewellery display cabinets. Again, as always, he had filled his backpack quickly and taken great care not to disturb anything unnecessarily for the few minutes he was in there. Yes, something must have fallen. Still standing motionless on the step, he shrugged his shoulders, feeling the weight on his back. It was a good haul, much larger than he’d expected. Perhaps, with this stuff fenced off he could call it quits. Did he actually believe this? Could he actually do that?

He was thinking about all this when he heard the siren. It had to be a police car, and it was getting louder. He couldn’t return to his car, parked a couple of blocks away. He would have to leg it.

He was halfway down the fire escape when it came over him. There it was, in those few seconds, an epiphany.

At the bottom of the steps, he began running. At the end of the alley, he took the backstreets. Aware of the load on his back, he ran faster than he’d run in all his life. As he did, the sudden and amazingly powerful insight into the reality of where he was and what he was doing with his life, had come crashing in on him, during those few seconds back at the building.

As he raced through the darkened streets, making his way back to his apartment, his future plans were forming. Completely exhausted, he began walking as he entered his street. At the apartment block, he entered his flat as quietly as possible.

Dropping his backpack, he lay on his bed and finished his deliberations.

He wouldn’t use a fence this time, but fly to Amsterdam direct. He had the address of a small jewellery shop. He would get a better return there. Banking arrangements made; he’d fly to Madrid. He was there with an old girlfriend a few years back. His earlier experience, gained working on construction sites, would give him a start, not that he’d be short of money. After a while, he’d find something less physically demanding, maybe an office job…

A year later, he was waiting at tables in Salamanca, a changed man, going straight, giving time to charity work in his spare time. In other words, he was a new man.

Not many jewel thieves could do that!

The illusionist was riding high on international bookings.

He and his partner toured the world entertaining and thrilling audiences with their well-publicised performances for a number of highly profitable years. She would appear as his beautiful assistant, wearing scanty, glittering costumes. He, The Great Eldorfo, would put himself into the most impossible situations, keeping the audience breathless, then by some unfathomable means free himself! The fact that the illusions were performed so convincingly, held the customers spellbound. So much so, that when leaving the venue, they immediately recommended the show to any of their friends who had not already bought tickets. This became so regularly the case that their shows were so often extended, therefore adding another few days before moving on. This created a schedule that had the two of them working at a blistering pace.

It was probably this aspect of their lucrative act that brought on a rift between them. Although she was making very good money for showcasing him at every event, the fifteen percent of takings she had originally agreed to, no longer seemed to be anywhere near enough. This consideration became the basis for a growing number of arguments about what she was worth. Despite her putting forward a very reasonable case concerning her fair share of the profits, he simply wouldn’t budge.

After a particularly acrimonious confrontation on this topic, the following evening’s performance ended badly. The final act, one that involved him being suspended by the ankles in a large tank of water, went horribly wrong!

Several ghastly minutes of watching him struggling in the tank, had a stage hand come forward with an axe and the stage was flooded. After being taken down, the attending medics quietly pronounced him dead. The audience was asked to leave the premises in a respectful manner, while the distraught assistant sat weeping with a blanket wrapped around her.

What followed was the inevitable press coverage and a coronial inquiry that found it to be a case of accidental death. Soon after this came the approach from a publishing house with a generous offer for her to write her own story about her time with Eldorfo.

Naturally, the memoirs made no mention of the key that Eldorfo held under his tongue, that left the venue with her on the night, and nothing about how she had laboured for almost an hour on it, using her best sapphire nailfile, the evening before their fatal final performance.

After a great deal of thought over several years, he had come up with the solution.

It was the solution to… well, everything! He couldn’t help wondering how the rest of mankind would receive his discovery. He hoped that the unravelling of the hitherto secrets of the great expanding cosmos, and what this meant to the future of mankind, would be understood by others. He hoped that they would not take the unearthed concepts metaphorically. In practical terms, he could see the reasons for the creation of religions and the desire to worship gods, once fully realised, would give way naturally to love and piece, and a newfound sense that there was absolutely no need for wars, hunger or poverty. The mathematical proof of what he had brought to light was so shockingly simple, while at the same time inexplicably wonderful!

Unhappily, these earthshattering ideas were shown to be quite incorrect, when the dog from across the street explained in great detail where he’d gone wrong.

He woke up knowing that something was different.

He was still sitting in his armchair, but he felt different. He rolled his shoulders and looked down. He was wearing shorts and they were red! Surely, he hadn’t put on shorts that morning, had he? Wriggling around, he found that he could only wriggle, he discovered that he was no longer wearing his jumper, but some sort of green top with sequins around the neck. Then there were his shoes. Well, no, they were more like slippers that curled up at the toes. To top it all off, he had a hat on. He never wore a hat indoors. He had virtually no movement in his body, so he couldn’t actually see it. He couldn’t help thinking that was probably a good thing.

Squinting, he began to make out little bits of white material floating down all around him. Then, he became aware of the globe, and realised he was actually inside a large Perspex globe.

All of this reminded him of a horror movie he had once seen, where a man had been turned into one of Santa’s little helpers and trapped in a snow globe.

As far as he could remember, it had ended rather badly…

He sat unobtrusively, watching people stroll up and down the mall.

It was a warm day with only a few clouds moving slowly across a summer sky. Those moving around him were wearing clothes that now suited the weather. Customers criss-crossed the mall, sauntering in and out of the shops that lined either side of the walkway. His seat, one of several that were centrally dotted along the length of the place, was long enough for three, but the fates had allowed him to have it all to himself. It enabled him to better concentrate. He was surrounded by the noises that formed part of what had to be accepted in such a place. The main road, at the closest end, gave off a steady stream of traffic sounds, with only the occasional honk. He made allowances for these, prepared to block them out in an instant. People chatted as they passed, of course; just a babbling cacophony that was unintelligible by its very nature. Only the occasional word would jump out of the jumble. He could deal with these as well.

Although not apparent to the crowd that swirled around him, he was not really there to watch them come and go. Neither was he tired, nor merely taking a break from his nearby office. They need not know the reason for his stopping, but he was not there to enjoy the warmth of the day or breathe in the savoury aroma of the hotdog vender, just a short way off.

He had stopped to listen. He had been going somewhere like those around him, but he had stopped to listen. From the instrument shop he faced, came the music of Vivaldi. He had recognised the opening bars of his Mandolin Concerto in C Major as he approached.

He knew the piece; knew it was around eight minutes long. His day could wait. His workday could wait. He would sit for all three movements.

The world owed him that.