Author: Alexander Fawn

It started as a minor incident while he and his girlfriend were camping.

He thought a lot of her and felt they were made for each other. It was going to be a brief getaway for the weekend. A couple of nights in a tent, going for long walks, enjoying nature. It was when they were on one of these that they discovered the cave. He was the first to go in; she followed slowly.

He commented as they entered, “You’re being very brave.”

“Am I?”

“Oh! Yes.”

“And you know this, how?”

He looked around, “I’m not sure, but I know you’ve been afraid of caves since you were a toddler.”

She was startled by the statement. “How could you possibly know that? I’ve never told you about it.” She thought about it for a while and said, “You’ve never met my parents, so you couldn’t have found out that way. How did you find out?”

He wasn’t listening. “There’s something very special about this place,” he said, running his fingers over the bare rock.

She looked around. “It’s just a cave…”

“No. No, it’s not,” he said, jumping in. “I’ll prove it.”

He stood still with his eyes closed for a full minute. He opened them to find her staring at him with raised eyebrows and a grin.

Not to be put off, he said, “Around that time, when you were a three or four, you fell over behind the shed, where your mother kept all her fancy flower pots and saucers, together with lots of glass pickling jars. You were told not to go there. You knew how angry she could get. Your knee was bleeding. You wiped the blood off as best you could and made sure it stayed out of sight. You kept it clean until it healed, but you never told your parents.” He dropped his head to one side. “You’ve never told anybody.”

Her look was something he hadn’t seen before.

That’s how it started. He couldn’t help thinking that this could open up a great future for him as some sort of modern day oracle, like the Greek thing, with people coming to him. He could put a mat down and sit cross-legged. He could charge for his services! He thought about all this in the hours that followed.

However, that night he woke abruptly with the realisation that people didn’t want to know about the past, they wanted to know about the future!

He tried to snuggle back down into his sleeping bag, but it didn’t work. He had a bad night.

The next morning they packed up and returned to their respective homes. It was late when they arrived, so he only dropped her off, then made his way home, situated in the next town.

Naturally, he was pretty upset that his grandiose plans had come to nothing on reflection.

He was equally upset when he never heard from her again…

Barber Blenkinsop

Have you any hair?

Yes sir, lots sir.

In the boxes there.

One’s for the wig man,

And one’s to pad a chair,

And one’s for the witch’s spells,

The rest we can share.

The young detective was assigned to wade through the case files of all seven victims.

This was despite his begging the police chief to give him an active role on the case. Unfortunately, his earnest request had backfired on him when he had stood his ground, saying that all his time on the force, plus his recent up to date training made him perfectly capable of being a real benefit to the current investigations. This had gone down badly and as a consequence he was relegated to working his way through all of the paperwork in the files that were almost thrown at him. It was certain that the police were dealing with a serial killer. Although it had been decided to withhold such information from the public for fear of starting a panic, each of the bodies had a small, red asterisk stencilled under the chin.

After several hours of wading through material that in the main shed no light on the case at all, he suddenly realised that he may have found a tenuous link between all seven victims of the recent crime spree. It seemed that five of the victims, and probably the remaining two, had recently had dental work carried out. The surgery in question was one that the detective was familiar with, but he had never used their services. He felt sure that this was a really viable lead to follow up on. After careful consideration, he decided that making the discovery known, following the argument with his chief, he would receive little thanks for his contribution.

He decided that to get to the bottom of the affair on his own would be the best way of proving himself. With this in mind he called the surgery and made an appointment for the following morning.

His body turned up a couple of weeks later, with a small, red asterisk stencilled under his chin.

The ex-police superintendent dozed peacefully in the well-worn armchair.

When he came to, he found himself in his old office in the city. It was dark outside, obviously late at night. He went to the window and saw the lights of traffic crossing the familiar bridge. As he looked on, the lights seemed to swirl around making strange, coloured patterns that rose slowly into the air. After a while, a great shimmering platform of these hovered immediately outside the window. With no contact from him, the window swung open. As though it were a perfectly natural thing to do, he climbed out and stood on the illuminated mass and continued to take in the view. Gradually, the structure beneath him moved away from the building and rose up even further into the night sky, taking him with it. Remarkably, none of these strange events caused him any concern at all. As the moonlit clouds above grew closer he could see within them structures, and people moving about.

Then, in a blur, he found himself in a room. It was a large room with several tables having numerous items carefully laid out. Although this was not a place he recognised or had any memory of, so many of the items it contained were all too familiar. He spotted his old handcuffs at once, along with his original typewriter. He stood looking at them with a wistful smile. Moving around, he found that one table was full of items recovered from crime scenes and house searches carried out over so many years. He took his time passing among the exhibits. There were letters and envelopes used in evidence, newspaper clippings of old cases, pieces of rope, knives, guns, parts of homemade bombs, inert sticks of dynamite, pieces of recovered shrapnel, a number of gloves and masks that had been used in the commission of crimes, bottles of poison, tablets, several forgery implements, and all manner of containers used for smuggling.

At the far end he found a long, narrow table with a series of mug shots lined up. As he walked along the row of photos, they seemed to move of their own volition. They became faster and faster, until they created a passing animation of black and white and grey. As he watched, he too started to spin. His vision became hazy, then cleared.

He was back, slowly returning to ground level peering down at a small assembly.

It was the sight of his own coffin being slowly lowered into the freshly dug grave and the familiar faces, and the uniforms of those gathered around it, that enabled him to come to terms with the fact that he was dead.

The prestigious university’s Emeritus Professor of English Studies sat at his desk.

He sat marking English papers when, quite suddenly he sat upright, aware of movement behind him. Had he not had a strong constitution he would probably have had a heart attack and died where he sat. Despite this, he watched as the unexpected visitor walked around the end of his large desk and settle into the chair opposite. The stranger smiled reassuringly and raised his hand.

“It’s perfectly alright professor, I mean you no harm.”

The professor, visibly shaken, went to say something.

“It is as I say,” said the visitor, “I wish you no harm.”

“Who are you?” blurted the stunned professor, “How did you get in here?”

“Ooh! I don’t know, I just wondered if you’d like to think outside of the box for a short while.”

“The box?”

“Yes, the box. Languages do you see?”

“Yes, but…”

“Outside of your native tongue I believe you speak seven others fluently,” he paused, “and a few more, less so.”

The professor looked surprised. “How could you know that?”

“As to what I know, let me see.”

The visitor pondered.

“It wouldn’t be at all difficult for anybody to tell you that you live at number seven Brierley Close, are married with three children, two boys and a girl, that you are sixty-eight years old , have a sister living in Paris, that a year ago you stopped playing squash.”

The professor went to speak.

“The fact,” he continued, “that you’ve had trouble sleeping of late, owing to a local dog barking through the night; the fact that I know you were engaged in a most unpleasant argument during your last visit to your podiatrist, that you recently lost a button from your shirt cuff, or that only yesterday you thought it would be nice to remove your neat, goatee beard when you retire… something you haven’t mention to anybody, as yet.”

The professor sat with his mouth hanging slightly open, staring blindly at the man across the desk, who went on, “I believe I’ve established my credentials to your satisfaction?”

The professor nodded slowly.

“I’m only here to talk to you about languages. I just thought you’d be interested to know what was happening elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“Yes. The planet I come from, for instance,” he said, in a matter of fact way, “is not that dissimilar to your own.” He sat back, taking on a more relaxed posture. He waved his hand back and forth, as he said, “About the same size, several land masses, lots of little islands, lots of water , suns, moons, stars… you name it…”

He smiled broadly.

“However, we developed in a different way, do you see? To be sure, we are way, way more advanced than you are here, but nevertheless, our history, our coming together as nations if you will…”

The professor interrupted momentarily, by repeating in a low voice, “The coming together of nations.”

“Yes, through languages do you see, through languages, or more specifically…” he went on, giving great emphasis to the singular, “through a language.”

He laced his fingers.

“Please, let me explain it simply. Life on our planet evolved in much the way yours did. However, when the inhabitants of one land mass became aware of the existence of another… let’s call them peoples ‘a’ and peoples ‘b’; they, or should I say we, differed in one major respect. We had a great, overriding desire to speak with each other, to communicate, and as a result, a third language evolved, language ‘c’. A common language. A language that both groups used.” He smiled again, “You can probably imagine how this whole scenario runs on, can’t you? Other groups being discovered… the same continuing desire to talk freely, using a common language… ‘c’ became ‘d’, that became ‘e’, ‘f’, ‘g’, ‘h’, ‘i’… and so on. Of course, I am describing in short, a very long history, but that’s the nub of it.” He raised his eyebrows. “I think you get the picture.”

The professor nodded.

“So, there you have it. Where I come from, let us say in simple terms, all nations, all groups, all peoples, speak the same language.” With that, he sat back.

For the longest time, the two men sat staring at one another.

The professor finally fell back in his chair and closed his eyes.

When he opened them… he was alone.

It was the sort of morning that made you want to lie in.

He was dozing, not wanting to open his eyes or leave his comfortable bed. Although he slowly became aware of the fact that the bed wasn’t really that comfortable. He wriggled around for a while, hoping to get back to sleep, but it didn’t help. When he did open them he found that his nose was nearly touching the ceiling. Looking around he was shocked to find that overnight he had been transformed into a very large hamster!

He had no idea how such a thing could have happened. He went to sleep the night before as normal; no different from any other night. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t had any nightmares or strange dreams. There was just no way of accounting for it.

He managed to roll out of bed and squeeze through the door without making too much noise. He didn’t want others to see him like this. Outside, he hopped across the back lawn and jumped over what was now a very low fence. He wanted to get away from prying eyes and think about his situation.

As he hopped along, he was full of questions. Could it be something that he ate? Whatever could he have done to deserve this? It was a real mystery. Eventually, he found some heavy bushes he could hide in. He didn’t want to be seen until he had figured this thing out. He certainly didn’t want is mother to see him like this. As he crouched there thinking, there was only one thing on his mind.

How could he become a normal sized hamster again?

Grumpy Humphrey laid on the ledge.

Grumpy Humphrey fell into the hedge.

All of the gardeners and all of their men,

Could never trim it back into shape again.

 

The boy lived in a miserable hovel with his grandfather, just beyond the town.

The boy’s life was wretched. There was never enough to eat and the old man was a brute. He was always telling the boy how stupid and worthless he was. There was never a kind word of any sort. Ever since he had gone to live with him he’d been mean to him. He was never actually beaten, but there was never a nice word for him either. He was given the hardest and dirtiest chores, with the old man saying that he was just too old to be doing anything for himself. The boy was a slave.

One day, the grandfather sent the boy into town with the last of his meagre coins to buy whatever food he could with it. He told him to be very careful with it as the money, as it was all he had.

The boy set off and was gone most of the day. When he returned, he was very excited. He couldn’t wait to tell his grandfather of their good fortune. He held out his hand with a big grin. In his palm were three beans. He explained with great enthusiasm that he had met this wonderful wizard who had told him about their magical properties. He was good enough to sell them to him. What a good deal it was! All they had to do was plant them…

The man stared at the beans with a disbelieving look. His eyes began to water and his face turned red. He became very angry. He was absolutely furious. He was beside himself with rage. He was livid. He was fuming. Finally, he exploded and in his terrible rage he tossed the beans out of the window and sent the boy straight to bed, although it was the middle of the afternoon.

It rained heavily overnight and the next morning the boy stood outside staring at the ground for a long time, at the spot where the beans had landed. His grandfather watched from the window shaking his head and still scowling.

After a while, when it was obvious that nothing magical had happened, the old man cursed him yet again through the window. The boy stopped pretending to be surprised, turned his back and smiled.

He had picked the beans up from the ground near a market stall and used the money to eat a hearty meal, followed by a large helping of ice cream.

The fact was, he just wanted to really, really upset the old sod!

Carers keeping vigil,

A virus fast unfurled.

People sick and dying

In every corner of the world.

–

Masks, shields and goggles,

Loved ones trapped apart.

There never was so much said about

The flattening of a chart.

–

Masks that mask expressions.

Eyes are all you get.

Listen to the tone,

Sounds of hope or moot regret.

–

Primordial gestures,

Hiding their dismay,

Concealing desperate wishes,

To make it go away.

–

Zoom appointments, work from home.

Strange things become the norm.

Testing, screening and quarantining,

While riding out the storm.

–

Empty day-care, empty airports,

Sanitized hands, probing swabs,

Growing distance, isolation,

Disappearing jobs.

–

Fear the invisible enemy

And hope to control the spread.

Some attend the sick,

While others mourn the dead.

–

All in it together,

Sad stories all around.

Second wave is looming,

Vaccine not yet found.

–

On and on and on it runs,

Quickening its pace,

Despite the daunting rules and regs,

The leaders put in place.

–

Leaders holding different views,

On power and morality,

And values placed upon the scales,

Twixt economy and mortality.

–

An infection travelling high and low,

No regard for breed or class.

Together, all are waiting,

For this too shall pass.

 

He certainly had an impressive list of death scenes that he was famous for.

As an actor, you would have to say that it was the drowning scene in that early pirate movie that really boosted his career. It was a notable turning point for him. The way he waved his arms around helplessly, crying out for help through gargling salt water and finally getting battered and sucked under when the wave came crashing down on him. From there on his acting profession took off big time. Offers of roles came flooding in. He was featured in dozens of movies over several years and enjoyed the financial benefits, together with a greatly elevated life style, as a result. In short, in his own way he became a celebrity.

Audiences loved him. People just couldn’t stop talking about him. His masterful fall from the twelfth floor balcony in the latest movie was a big hit. Thinking back, there was that wonderful scene where he was trampled to death by a heard of charging hippos. Then there was that look of terror on his face when that live electricity cable swung around and hit him. Who could forget the way his eyes bulged when he was hit from behind with an axe, or the way he fell over that cliff, riddled with machinegun bullets, and what about the way he ran out of that burning house, covered with flames; it was spectacular.

You could just about hear the audience hold its breath when he clutched at his chest in that moving heart attack scene. Turning blue and slumping over a bowl of poisoned minestrone soup certainly had people talking about it for weeks. Then there was the way he flailed around after being bitten by a venomous snake. Of course, there was that look of astonishment just before the train hit him, and his realistically falling face down, with a knife in his back. His facial expressions in that strangling scene, and all that coughing and spluttering that went on while he was being choked to death were nothing short of brilliant. Being shot through the windscreen in a car accident, and being blown up by a land mine in that jungle scene were both truly awesome.

However, the time came when the fact that he always got killed off, just lost some of its glamour somehow. He asked himself why he had to die in every movie. Just for once he’d like to survive the plot, and if possible, go on to live happily ever after. The more he thought about it the more it became a burning ambition.

When he first made his feelings known on the subject he was met with a great deal of resistance. They told him he should stick with what he was good at. But he persisted, even turning down a number of offers.

After a few months of not working, which he could easily afford, he was offered a part. He was over the moon. He just couldn’t believe he’d pulled it off. It was only a low budget TV movie, but he didn’t have to die in it. For just once in his career he wasn’t going to be killed off. He wasn’t the star exactly, but in this movie he could be seen for what he really was… an actor.

He was on his way to the first rehearsal when the truck hit him.