Author: Alexander Fawn

A long, long time ago, a traveller entered the meagre shack of an old apothecary.

Although only coming upon the village by chance, the wanderer, having taken a nasty fall earlier in the day, saw this as an opportunity to have the wound to his knee cleaned and bound. The old man, a seller of drugs and special compounds, was also known to work spells for people in the village. He greeted his customer warmly and had him sit while he attended to the injury. The tiny village itself lay hidden in the rugged greenery between coast and moor and received few visitors. Because of this, the apothecary saw it as a welcome occasion to tell his story. He remembers the day that another stranger came to the village seeking him out. The old man enjoyed telling the story to anyone who’d listen.

“This reminds me of the time I had a similar encounter with a stranger,” he began, “although this visitor was just a young lad. He came to me with a most unusual request. Yes, most peculiar it was. This youth wanted me to provide him with a spell that would separate metal from stone.” He looked into the eyes of the other. “Well, I could hardly refuse such a challenge, could I? It took some work in the doing of it, I can tell you. But, it was managed and the boy went away happy.”

He finished applying the herbal ointment and began bandaging.

He went on. “It was some time after that, I couldn’t rightly say how long, anyway that’s when I heard that this same fellow had visited a cousin of mine who lived in another village. He was a carpenter you see?” He chuckled to himself. “What a job that was! My cousin was asked to build this huge, round table. Well, he did, and when it was finished it was carted away to some castle. Then, the story goes that a great number of knights gathered around it.” He finished the dressing and the man stood and paid him for his trouble.

The stranger said, “I myself live something of a hermitic life, but have heard such stories before. I must say, not from anyone so close to it.”

As he was leaving the stranger asked, “so, what happened with this stranger that you speak of?”

“Well, as for that, I cannot rightly say, but there are rumours that he’s our king!”

Nobody would argue over the simple fact that the boy was ordinary.

He couldn’t understand it. All of a sudden he felt the burning desire to be something more than just ordinary. He realised that he was normal to the point of being dull. He was nothing other than usual, and that was for sure. All said and done, he was just a regular person. Every aspect of his humdrum life and way of thinking was totally conventional. It was a bitter disappointment to think about just how middling he really was. It was disheartening to think about how incredibly run-of-the-mill he was. As a person he felt he was completely unremarkable in every respect. When he thought about it there was nothing about him that wasn’t commonplace. It would have to be said that the boy was not anything other than an everyday kind of person. He knew that he was no more than a typical boy of his time, but he was so average, that it hurt.

Such thoughts about himself led him to take on a number of considerations.

For instance, others would have to judge him as being mundane. He also realised that he could only be regarded as unexciting. In fact, he would have to be seen as boring by others. For that matter, he himself is quite sure that he has never been anything other than simply uninteresting. At the end of it all, he knew that he felt miserable about being a humdrum person.

All of this inevitably brought questions, such as, would anyone be able to avoid entertaining the thought that he was a dullard? Would people see him to be anything more than dreary? Would lacklustre be an appropriate label for him?

All of this was contentious issue for him right up to the time that he realised he was unique!

 

 

 

 

 

 

A place to let a life unwind;

To dwell in quiet tranquillity.

To smell the ozone on the wind,

In a cabin by the sea.

 

To the north a stretch of beach.

A band of glistening sand.

Where, with an endless lapping,

Water meets the land.

 

To the east a snaking river,

Widening by degree.

Its land born waters flowing,

Pushing gently to the sea.

 

To the south, a rounded headland

And a delta shaped lagoon.

A sand bar spans the river’s mouth

To where it meets the dune.

 

To the west an endless ocean.

A vast scope of rippling blue.

Foaming crests come tumbling in,

While distant waves all queue.

Such mysteries are held in the boundless deep,

With creatures yet unknown,

And a million jagged contours, tumbled smooth unseen

Until washed up and shown.

 

To stroll the beach shows a bric-a-brac

Of driftwood, stones and shells.

While crashing waves turn to silent foam,

Then turn in upon themselves.

 

The plaintive screeches of swirling gulls,

Without effort cutting through the sky.

A faint rustling from the dunes above.

A breeze making bushes sigh.

 

It’s a place where worldly cares are banned;

Where a tethered mind goes free.

Where the ozone is there in the ocean’s wind,

In a cabin by the sea.

 

In a trice the man was standing in front of two massive, open gates.

A little startled at the suddenness of it, he stood taking in the lofty stone walls on either side. It was a dimly lit place with a smoke laden atmosphere. As he looked on, the vapours parted and a cloaked figure appeared at the entrance, beckoning. As he moved forward he noted that the figure’s hood was empty.

“Welcome, welcome, do come in.” A black, floppy sleeve went around his back and they passed through the entrance into an even murkier atmosphere.

The man, still dazed and finding it difficult to breathe, could find nothing to say.

“We’ve followed your exploits over the years,” the figure said, with an admiring tone, as they walked further into the blackness.

“Oh! Yes indeed; followed with great interest, I must say,” it went on. “You have been actively setting your path to these very gates since you were nine years old. Cruelty to animals was your forte then. Very impressive! Of course, through the years you have honed your skills beyond belief. Yes, that triple murder in San Francisco last year was a real masterpiece. In a word, splendid! As far as is known, the authorities to this date, have no idea who was responsible for any of it. That just happens to be one of my favourites. As far as I could see, there was absolutely no motive whatsoever for the killings. But, more of that later.”

The figure stopped. “Oh! Look, I’m gushing. Please do come in.”

A door had appeared in the wall and the figure was using a giant key to unlock it. They entered a hallway, illuminated by the flame of a wall-mounted torch. The figure turned and locked the door, then led the way down a passage that seemed to be endless, with a countless number of similar torches. It dropped away, getting steeper and steeper.

The figure went on. “Naturally your overall head count is very much higher than just three! In fact, without looking back at the records, I should say dozens! Anyway, you’ll be right at home year. We have everything from the continually annoying to the extremely evil. Of course, your parents are here. You’ll see lots of familiar faces, I’m sure. Even one or two of your victims, although most of them were completely innocent.” This was followed by something close to a chuckle. “So many of your crimes have been completely undetected. I would conjecture that with your record you’ll be something of a celebrity here.”

They had been walking for some time when out of the blue, the figure said, “Unlucky break. You were hit by an out of control cement truck, I believe.”

The man spoke for the first time. “I’m not really sure. Is that what happened?”

“Oh! I wouldn’t dwell on it. It’ll all come back to you in good time.”

The man stared down the tunnel and could just make out a second door. The heat was becoming unbearable.

The figure spoke again. “Meantime, I should explain that when we enter, you’ll be shown your quarters. Nothing fancy. I’m sure you appreciate that. Just a cage really. But, everything you need is right there. It will all be explained to you; the rules, your personal schedule. All your questions will be answered.”

When they arrived at the door, it was radiating a fierce heat. Its surface was smouldering and wisps of black, acrid smoke was leaking out around the frame. The figure reached out to open it.

A gigantic ball of flame blasted out from within.

In an instant, the man was consumed by it… as a form of welcome.

It is late in the evening and the young woman has made her request.

The young cherub is saying, “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course I’m sure. I first laid eyes on him outside the cinema weeks ago. He stood there chatting with some other guys. God! He looked gorgeous! I haven’t stopped thinking about him ever since.”

Cupid stood fiddling with his bow and arrow awhile, then shrugged and said, “OK.”

She waved a hand, “Is there a problem?”

“Not for me there isn’t.”

“Well then, fire away.”

“If you’re sure.”

Her eyes took on a faraway look. “Oh! Yes! I want you to shoot an arrow straight into his heart!”

Cupid thought for a minute.

She said, “You know something, don’t you?”

Cupid shrugged.

“You know something I don’t?”

He shuffled his feet. “Well, I’m not supposed to say.”

“He’s not married, is he?”

Cupid shook his head.

“Engaged?”

Another headshake.

“He’s got a girlfriend?”

Headshake.

“Has he got some nasty disease that I should know about?”

Headshake.

“Does he have a criminal record?”

Headshake.

“Is he an illegal immigrant?”

Headshake.

“Is he wanted by the authorities for something?”

Headshake.

“Has he been diagnosed with something and only has a short time to live?”

Cupid sighed and shook his head again.

“OK. Fire away!”

Cupid stood testing the tip of his arrow with his thumb with an air of reluctance.

“Goodness! What is it now?”

“You have to realise, I am Cupid the god of love in all its varieties.”

“So?”

He took a deep breath. “He’s gay.”

With wide-eyed surprise, she whispered, “Oh!”

“You see what I mean?”

Her hand went to her mouth and she nodded.

“You might have a problem with that… I don’t.”

They had been dating awhile, but not what you’d call going steady.

It was a case of having irregular dates owing to where she lived and where he worked, and so on. It was all rather awkward, but they had managed to maintain their relationship for almost a year. That’s when it happened. That’s when she lent him the book. It was a novel. An international best seller. A thick one at that. She had been cooing about how wonderful a read it was for the previous two months. She said he would love it. It would mean so much to him. She said it was so… him!

She handed it to him with a sense of pride. He took it with grace. The truth was, he wasn’t much of a reader, but if it meant that much to her he would read it over the weekend. That’s what he did.

Thank goodness he found out in time. Their relationship was getting serious. They had even talked about getting engaged.

But… she obviously didn’t know him; just didn’t know him at all.

He would mail it back.

 

The young men would occasionally catch up after work.

Years earlier they had been close friends at school. But now, their times of leaving work would vary, and every now and again they would see each other in the café near the station. It was more pleasant than waiting on the platform. It was some time since they had seen each other and the man entering was pleased to see the other reading the paper in their favourite corner. He ordered and sat down.

“Long time, eh?”

The other looked up smiling. “You’re right.” He folded his paper and said, “How are things?”

“Oh! You know, same old same old.”

The waitress came across with his coffee. After a silence, he said, “I heard you broke up with her.”

“Yep.”

“Just so happens I passed her today, coming out of the station this morning. I don’t think she saw me.”

The other nodded.

“She was on the arm of this guy. Big fella; looked like a bouncer.”

The other grinned.

“Come on, I bet your still keen on her.”

The other moved his paper around. “Just a little, I guess.”

“Just a little? Oh! I don’t believe that for a minute. Last time we caught up, what, just a few weeks back, you were telling me how incredibly perfect the woman was.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” the other replied shaking his head.

“Yes, you were. You were saying that you shared the same taste in movies, music and books. You said she was so easy to talk to, that you could share all of your private thoughts with each other. You made a point of telling me she was the one, the one and only true love in your life. You said you could hardly believe that you had found such happiness!”

The other nodded in agreement.

“Hey! You told me all this right here; right here in this café.” He looked around. “Probably at this very table.” His eyebrows went up, questioningly. He drank a little coffee. “I just couldn’t believe it,” he went on, “when I heard you weren’t together any more. I mean, what happened?”

The other tapped the newspaper. “You’ve been keeping up with all the stuff that’s been going on since the election, I’m sure?”

“Of course. Couldn’t avoid it if I wanted to.”

The other let out a long sigh. “She voted for him!”

While working out what rhymes with red,

It took a while, it should be said.

So many swirled around my head,

I thought I’d go for pink instead.

–

Now, there’s a colour, don’t you think?

Although this one can make men shrink.

It could take them to the brink.

This calls for a quick rethink.

–

Brown’s the one to pin it down,

Although it wouldn’t paint the town.

The thought of it may make you frown.

I’ll have to try another noun.

–

Now, blue’s a colour of a different hue.

Again, for choice, a lengthy queue.

The more I looked, the more it grew.

I’d look for something that isn’t blue.

–

Green sounds nice and often seen.

After rain it looks so clean.

But maybe something in between.

Turquoise may well suit the scene.

–

Turquoise? Are you kidding?

He’d been stuck in the terminal for eighteen hours with the storm still raging outside.

Bad weather had grounded everything. There was no way of knowing when the airport’s operations would restart. He was on his way to an important meeting, with its outcome for the company worth millions. He had built it up from nothing. What was it worth? Two hundred, three hundred million? He didn’t know. He was tired of it, tired of it all.

As the hours dragged by, a sense of personal renewal was going on: yet again. His wife, children, friends, all good, but… he would love to be able to start again. He could lose the mansion, the boat and the club memberships. He was quite sure of that. In a way, it bothered him that these thoughts had been plaguing him of late, but on the other hand the thought of it gave him a sense of calmness; a joyful resolve that had him flashing back to the happy, carefree times of childhood.

People just disappeared didn’t they? One minute they were where everybody expected them to be, the next, gone. Didn’t you have to plan these things? Legalities, ownership stuff and bank accounts; or do these people just wing it. It would be his choice alone. Nobody else could make the decision. What was it the doctor said? Go on at this rate, I give you two years, three years tops.

He got up and walked around. He went again to the ‘Delayed’ notice on the departures board. He returned to his seat. He stood, eyeing his travel cases. Nothing had been checked in yet. Apart from his electronic flight ticket there was nothing to say where he was going, or that he was going anywhere. He wondered what the weather was like in Chicago. He checked his mobile for world weather. Not much better.

He settled back on his seat and let his memories of childhood holidays return with vivid recollection. That little village in Spain that his parents would take time off in. Where was it now? Jubrique, or at least somewhere near it. So long ago. Yet he clearly remembers the row of white chalets, with a view out across the rugged blue-green hills. The old caretaker with his guitar, sitting in the rented chalet, sipping offered wine and playing; such playing, such magical music!

Another six hours went by before the airport was reopened for business.

He changed his ticket.

She was very young and very bright.

She had a secret desire that only she knew about. It is true that others saw her as, well… different. Ever since her kindergarten teacher had told the little ones about the existence of the almighty, she had held a most secret passion to meet him, and that’s when she started looking. She felt sure that it would only be a matter of time. It could be said that her young mind had got hold of the wrong end of the stick, but the spirit of it was there, and it would stay. When she went with her mother to the big shopping centre in town she would often look down from the upper level at the milling crowds. She felt sure this would be a good place to look.

One day, when she was barely old enough to leave the house on her own, she put a bottle of juice and a small packet of biscuits in a paper bag, and before her parents were awake, left the house for the town. She had the bag because her quest could well take the entire day. It was a long walk and she was pleased to find it was already open. She made her way to one of the many bench seats and sat catching her breath. Clutching her bag and watching the shoppers, she felt sure that this would be the day. It would happen today.

First she looked down from the third gallery, then from the other end of the great hall on the second level, then down into the growing mass of shoppers. She made her way through the moving people, looking up into their faces, searching. She returned to the upper levels and started again, using stairs and elevators to travel between floors. Hours passed and it was lunchtime because people were now filling the food hall. She wasn’t at all hungry. The mission that burnt within her was all she needed to keep her going. Her strategy of moving from one vantage point to another was repeated into the afternoon and the numbers in the shopping centre began to dwindle.

She was riding down one of the elevators when she saw him. What she saw was an old man, sitting quietly on his own. Without hesitation, she made her way to where he sat. She stood in front of him with a look of wonder in her eyes. He slowly looked up into her young eyes and smiled with a smile that she had never seen the like of in her short life. His hair was white, his eyes a deep blue, his face was thin and wrinkled; wrinkled and beautiful. She sat down next to him and just stayed there for the longest time with neither speaking.

Eventually, she opened her bag and unscrewed the top from the bottle. She held it out. He drank and turned to her with a smile that flooded through her with a heavenly ecstasy. She took a sip and opened the biscuits. He took one. She took one. They sat eating and drinking without a word until the announcement that the centre was closing rang out through the building. She was unable to fully comprehend the joy that she felt. There was no sadness for either of them as she stood in front of him again. She raised a young hand and moved her fingers gently, as a goodbye. With his penetrating smile he did the same.

As she moved away she thought for the first time that her parents would be worried about her. On her way to the exit she heard voices calling out. Looking back she saw people approaching the old man but then lost sight of it with those following her. She knew without any doubt at all that he would be alright. He would always be alright.

Now, truly exhausted, she slowly walked the long journey home.

Her head was full of wonder.

When she arrived, she was greeted by anxious parents.

“Her father said, “We’ve been so worried.”

She said, “I met God today.”

Her mother cried and hugged her.

Meanwhile, in the old people’s home, the nurse said, “We were very worried about you, wandering off like that.”

He said, “I met God today.” His eyes filled with tears and he added, “She was so young.”

The nurse kindly patted his hand. “I’ll get you a nice cup of tea.”

…and who is to say who met who?

Who is to say?