Author: Alexander Fawn

The bed and breakfast place would take him off his route, but it was cheap.

He was parked in a layby looking up his travel guide. The light was fading. He hated driving in the dark. But hey! This was all part of the joy of taking time off wasn’t it? Besides, if he didn’t like it he could move on and be prepared to arrive later in the next town. It was almost dark when he arrived. It was a small cottage. The lady made him welcome and he got settled in his room. Although it was normally just breakfast that was provided, she had kindly suggested that she would prepare some food for him, at very little extra cost. He thanked her and they set a time for him to go down.

She was waiting with food and drink in a quaint little dining area off to one side of the front entrance. It was full of interesting objects and wall hangings, all looking old, but kept clean. It was all obviously quite precious to the landlady. They sat talking about some of the objet d’art as he ate. The most intriguing pieces were line up along an antique looking mantelpiece. When he had finished eating he approached the figurines.

“I must say, the detail on these is remarkable.”

“You like them?”

“I do. Very much. Haven’t seen anything quite like them before.”

“No. You wouldn’t. I make them.”

“You do?”

“Yes, not for a while now. I tend to need inspiration I suppose.”

He raised his arm

“No!” she cried. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t, touch them I mean. Sorry, they are quite delicate. I didn’t mean to be rude. They are precious to me. I hope you understand.”

“Of course. I understand perfectly.” He stepped away from them and slapped his hands on his sides. “Do you know, I might just go for a quick walk? Maybe just up to the main road and back. I do like a constitutional after I’ve eaten.”

“That’s sounds nice. I hope you enjoy it. I’ll have a hot drink ready for you when you get back.”

“That’s very kind of you. I’ll just get changed.”

When he came down he was wearing a jacket and hat.

She stared at him for a moment. “I must say, that’s a very nice jacket, tweed is it?”

“Yes.” He flapped his arms proudly.

“How inspiring! Just a minute. Look, I have the perfect thing!”

He smiled childishly as the deerstalker hat was exchanged for his own. He tried it on. “How’s that?”

“Almost perfect, hold on.” She turned her back, picked up a small wand and began chanting under her breath, she turned back and handed him a pipe.

He took it and struck a pose with a thoughtful look on his face.

She brought up the wand, and in an instant he froze, maintaining his grand posture. He then began to shrink slowly down to an appropriate size.

“Holmes! How wonderful” she cooed, as she shuffled things along a bit to make room for him on the mantelpiece.

He sat typing in the small room allocated to him.

‘We here at the Crackerjack Chemical Company are proud to announce the launch of a new product that we are excited about. The Serenity pill!

Today, we release onto the market a pill that has been designed specifically for patients suffering from anxiety.

This product, having passed all aspects of a most rigorous testing regime has been fully approved, and is now available as an over-the-counter medication in pharmacies.

The easily digestible Serenity pill is guaranteed to not just lessen a person’s anxiety level, but to wipe it out completely…’

A knock at the door had him look up from his keyboard. He was a copywriter, paid by the pharmaceutical company to draft a piece for marketing purposes, as a promotion for the release of their new drug. He smiled at the Managing Director as he entered, and started to stand.

“No. Don’t get up,” he said, batting him back down with his hand. “Just thought I’d see how you were doing.”

“Well, it took a while for me to look through your notes, and the test results, of course.”

“Oh! You looked at them as well did you?”

“Yes.”

“So, how’s it going?”

“Well… I do have some issues.”

“Go on.”

“OK. I’ve only typed up four short paragraphs, based on your notes, but looking over these papers I find that there are errors in all of them.”

“Really?” He pulled up a chair. “For instance?”

“Well, in this first paragraph…” he read it out, “I think there’s a problem with the words ‘new product’”.

“How’s that?”

The writer pointed to the pile of papers at the end of the desk. “According to these, this is a product that you’ve had on the market for several years, with no changes being made to the ingredients.”

“Um! You have a point there, I grant you that, but we felt that a new name would boost sales. Serenity… good one eh? Do you like it?”

“I, I suppose so.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. Paragraph two.” He pulled papers out of the stack. “Yes, here we are. I’m not sure it’s strictly true to say that it’s been ‘designed specifically’, when it is established that it’s not a new drug.”

The manager shrugged. “Anything else?” he repeated, looking tired.

More papers are sifted through and taken from the pile. “These tell me that there has been no official approval for the drug as yet.”

“Not yet, granted, but any day now.”

“Yes, that’s my point. Until you get approval I feel that the line ‘has been fully approved’ is misleading, at the very least.”

The manager slumped back into the chair, looking haggard. “Is that it?

“I’m afraid not. Again, looking at your suggested copy and referring to the test results, I have doubts about saying ‘easily digestible’ when I note that over twenty percent of those tested had choking fits.”

The manager leant forward with his head in his hands. “Have you finished?” he mumbled weakly.

After a long silence the copyrighter cleared his throat. “I couldn’t help noting in the test results you provided as background material, there are fifty-eight possible side effects listed. I don’t think I can put much of a positive spin on that.”

Through his cupped hands, he whimpered, saying, “Ah! Lordy, you saw that did you?

“Yes.”

The manager looked up with bloodshot eyes and tousled hair and said, “You’ll have to leave all this with me. I’ll scribble something later.”

“Yes. Right.” In that moment this was all the writer could think of saying. Then he took a deep breath and went on. “Sorry, but I can’t help feeling that your anxiety about the launch is getting the better of you. I do hope you don’t mind me saying that?”

“No, of course not.” The manager shook his head. “No. You’re quite right. I’m in a hell of a flutter about the whole thing.”

“May I suggest you take a Serenity pill?”

“I did. I took three.”

“And?”

He sighed. “The bloody things don’t work!”

 

Stories are a patchwork

Of many twists and turns.

Back and forth the reader goes,

Stirring the plot with churns.

–

Some tales have only people,

Some have none at all,

Some use stranger types,

Like monsters, large and small.

–

Demons, witches, giants and ghosts,

Creatures undefined.

Wizards, elves and vampires,

Spooks of every kind.

–

There’s everything from corporate greed

To trains and cars colliding.

From elaborate insurance scams

To criminals in hiding.

–

Ships will sink and trains derail,

Buildings tumble to the street.

Priceless jewellry disappears.

Secret agents meet.

–

Floods pouring through the streets.

Leaky rowboats lost at sea.

Forest fires trapping campers.

Cars pinned beneath a tree.

–

Children sheltering from a storm.

People robbing graves.

A victim locked in a vault.

A tsunami’s pounding waves.

–

Weather light and fluffy,

Weather deep and dark,

So many stories swirl around.

Each tale will leave its mark.

 

He was making sure it was all there, there could be no mistakes.

They were in the process of getting ready. It had been planned over a period of days, when they had the chance to get together. Now, this part had to be done right.

He lifted up the tool to inspect it, and said, “Small hammer.”

“Check.”

“Pliers.”

“Check.”

“Wooden ruler.”

“Check.”

“Pocket compass.”

“Check.”

“Coffee machine manual.”

“Check.”

“Penknife.”

“Check.”

“Torch.”

“Check.”

“Thick leather garden gloves.”

“Check.”

“Four boxes of tissues.”

“Check.”

They were putting everything into a cardboard box.

She asked him, “What is all this for?”

He said, “You know what it’s for.”

He picked up another item. “Pair of tweezers,” he said.

She sighed. “Check”.

“Two plastic beakers.”

“Check.”

“Zip-up baggies.”

“Check.”

“Lint roller.”

“Check.”

“Small measuring tape.”

“Check.”

“An extension cord.”

“Check.”

“Two sharpened pencils.”

“Check.”

“Pair of scissors.”

“Check.”

“Box of matches.”

“Check.”

“Cork screw.”

“Check.”

“Sun cream.”

“Check.”

“Ball of string.”

“Check.”

“Walking stick.”

“Check.”

“Cough drops.”

“Check.”

“Insect spray.”

“Check.”

“Paper clips.”

“OK. Check!” she said. She put her hands on her hips and said, “I’m not sure that we really need all this stuff.”

He smiled knowingly and said, “When flying through outer space, you never know what you’re gonna need.”

He left the house at the usual time for his weekly walk to the local shops.

He was wearing black joggers, jeans and a dark windbreaker jacket. On cold nights, scarf and gloves; black. Always the same time and on the same day. It was a fair distance, but owning a car had long been out of his reach. Apart from other considerations, his job didn’t pay well enough to cover buying one. Besides, he liked walking. He made his way to the main road where he turned right towards the town. At the cross-roads he turned left and overtly strolled past the lighted shop fronts until he came to the alley that ran down past the side of the pub, then out onto the playing fields.

Here, his demeanour became overt and he slowed his pace. He peered into the darkness as he made his way beyond the lights of the town. As he crossed the two pitches, he could not see the vehicle, let alone the man that sat in it, waiting. Waiting for him. Passed the fields he began to make something out. Yes, there it was, a small black delivery van, nestled in the dark corner of the tennis-court’s car park. Shaded as it was from the street light by a cluster of tall trees, it was not fully visible until he got within a few strides of it. It was the perfect place for it. He got in.

It took barely a minute or two to make the exchange. From him, a relatively small amount of cash. From the van-driver, an envelope containing a few tablets, easily dissolved in water, easily administered. This done, he climbed out and started his return journey. In no time at all he heard the van’s tires slowly creeping away into the night. Everything concluded in such a short time. This was the way it was; the way it had to be. Back home again, across the fields, through the town, along the main road and turning to where his father would be waiting.

Since his illness, the old man had not been the same. He would never be able to look after himself and it was obvious that his faculties were going. But he seemed contented enough, as long as there was a supply of pain medication. Morphine’s not cheap and not available over the counter.

On his money, there was no way he could ordinarily afford to buy the painkillers for his father. The analgesic meant so much to him. It brought such blessed relief, and he was so grateful that his son was paying for it.

The old man would never know that he wasn’t buying it from the chemist in town.

 

It was her fiftieth birthday and he had booked a table.

It was an expensive restaurant, but he wanted her to have the best. He wanted it to be a special evening for her. They were on their way, navigating a winding, unlit country road when it happened. Without warning, a rabbit came bouncing across the road and hit the front of the car. With no other cars around he braked hard. Naturally, she was unnerved by the incident and anxious to find out if the creature had been hurt. He said to stay calm. He said it may only have been clipped; he would check. He got out and walked around the car. He found its mangled body in the road near the back bumper. There couldn’t be any doubt that it was dead.

He didn’t want to spoil the evening for her. A little white lie to avoid upset was reasonable he thought, especially tonight. Acting quickly, he slid the body under the car with his foot, then ran towards the roadside bushes giving the impression that he was watching it scampering away. She sat watching him. Back in the car he said, “Wow! That one was a real survivor.” She patted his arm, saying, “Thank goodness. I’m so glad it’s alright.” They went on their way.

The evening went well and the incident was completely forgotten. Everything was fine until he realised that he really should have taken a different route home. Surely, she’ll see it! There was no going back now, it couldn’t be avoided.

He was wondering how he could distract her when they neared the same stretch of road. As they approached the very spot, an oncoming car was late dipping its headlights before it passed. Then, the mutilated body became plainly visible. The dead animal was just where he left it, but now it was completely flattened.

“That one wasn’t so lucky!” he said.

“It’s so sad. This area must be teeming with them” she said.

He nodded his agreement as he kept driving.

His sigh of relief was barely audible.

She was approaching the house, like any other day after work.

She was a little nervous, but it didn’t show. The nice man next door is home; that’s good. The house feels hot, she needs to open the front windows; that’s good too. Take your time; no rush, she thought. The big moment arrives and she discovers hubby in the lounge with a nasty wound on the back of his head; excellent! He looks peaceful lying there; can’t be helped. Check for pulse; dead as a dodo; absolutely, no more physical abuse coming her way. Looks as though he put up a bit of a fight; all nicely done.

Check the back door, it has been forced open; good. Items taken from house; had to be done. She agreed that he could keep the items he took, including the new TV; not so good, but hey! There’s always a price. God knows, this was expensive enough.

All seems to be in order. She reflects; she should have done this earlier.

Now – she has to scream very loud, have the neighbour come in and look after her, then go into shock, do her best to answer questions when the police arrive.

Afterwards…

Act solemn for a month.

Buy a new TV.

Start a new life.

 

Jill and Jack went down the track,

To gather piles of firewood.

Jill fell over, broke her toe moreover.

She wasn’t feeling very good.

– 

She hobbled back along the track,

Just as fast as she could go.

Jack made a splint with sticks and lint,

And she rested, don’t you know.

 

This was her second visit and she felt she was making progress.

The therapist sat looking at his client. He had spent a minute or two looking back over his notes from the previous session.

“So, let me see, we have established that you’re not happy with him.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Your feelings haven’t changed since your last visit then?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Was there ever a time when you were happy with your husband?”

“Not really.”

“Do you think he is happy with you?”

“I shouldn’t think so.”

“Can you think of anything that would make you happy with him?”

“No.”

He tapped his pen on his notebook.

“Tell me, are you happy with yourself?”

After a pause. “No.”

He scribbled a note. “Can you tell me someone, anyone that you are happy with?”

She thought for a minute. “I can’t think of anybody.”

“OK. What about people you have known in the past, any of them?”

She sat thinking for a while. “No. Not really.”

“Alright, can you think of anybody who is happy with you?”

“I can’t think of anybody.”

“OK… and anyone you may have known in the past… any of them, at all?”

“No. Not really.”

He shuffled in his chair, made a note and said, “You’re simply not happy with anyone, and there is no one who is happy with you; excellent!” He smiled professionally. “Case solved!”

“Wow! Do I come back?”

“No.”

“Just for a review or something?”

“No. I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I thought there were going to be three sessions.”

“Not necessary.”

“I feel I need…”

“No, sorry.”

“Why not?”

“I’m really not happy with you.”

He went out into the garden, just to stand and admire the stars.

This time of year the night sky was at its best. He had his favourite constellations that he liked to search for. Some nights that was made difficult by clouds, but not tonight. Every tiny pinpoint of light dazzled against the black. He stood looking up wide-eyed for a few minutes, allowing his night sight to adjust to the dark. The longer he held his gaze, the brighter the patterns above him became. He found a particular constellation and began drawing imaginary lines from star to star, the way they are shown in books; drawings in the sky.

He was doing this when he found a dot missing and he couldn’t connect the dots. It was one of the brighter stars that appeared to be gone. He wondered at this because there was not the slightest evidence of cloud around, yet the star that he had just seen and admired for its brilliance was simply no longer there. Although he knew just about all of the constellations by heart, he was no expert about any other aspect of astronomy. It was quite possible that stars, even bright ones, lose their luminosity on certain occasions.

He was thinking this when, in a different part of the night sky, another star suddenly blinked out, leaving a solid blackness where something should be shining. To his amazement, as he looked on, more and more stars began going out, just shutting down! He was losing count; they were switching themselves off so fast. Then, it seemed to stop. No more were disappearing. Instead, stars started to reappear, but reappear where they just shouldn’t be! They were coming back across the sky making great swirling patterns, huge curved lines of vivid pin points. As they formed he could see two curled shapes with a great circle forming between them.

He literally staggered back when he realised what he was looking at; what he was reading. Right across the heavens, he read ’SOS’! It was a sign. A gigantic message painted across the firmament for the whole of human kind to see! Was someone in trouble up there? Was this done to tell us, no, warn us, of some stupendous impending disaster? Have others seen this? Was it meant for him alone?

Who’s he going to tell?

He staggered back again, belched loudly and went back in for another beer.