Author: Alexander Fawn

He sat reading in a quiet corner of his local library.

He was a regular customer. He loved reading. There was always a book in his briefcase. He had been taking time out on the way home from work to return and collect books for several years. He could never get the hang of reading on the bus. Most of the time it was just to exchange books, but occasionally, like tonight, he would find his favourite quiet corner and read. It was early closing night, so he only had an hour, if that. It was quiet, with very few customers. He’d already collected new reading, but aimed to finish this book off and return it before leaving. It was a fascinating read, particularly if you’re into conspiracy theories.

He had been engrossed in considering the summary in the final chapter, and jumped physically when the voice came.

“Excuse me.”

He turned to see a man standing next to him.

“Excuse me, do you know what time they close here?”

Shaken out of his reverie, he said “Not long now.” He checked his phone. “About fifteen minutes, I’d say.”

“Thank you.” He looked down. “Oh! I see you’re reading that one.”

The reader smiled. “Yes, just finished it.”

“Read that one myself. Fascinating stuff don’t you think?”

“I do, but I’m not sure…”

“Hah! Not sure whether you go along with it. Right?”

“Right.”

“Know what you mean.” He pulled up a chair. “Don’t mind, do you?”

The reader shrugged and shook his head.

The man sat down, and said, “I mean, a secret network out to change the world.”

The reader went to speak.

The man raised his eyebrows to the book. “These people are purported to be part of a cabal that operates through a great number of front organizations, all working to manipulate major political and financial events… aren’t they?”

“Yes, I suppose they are; supposed to be, that is.”

“Some think,” the other went on, “they are pushing through controversial policies in a plot to achieve world domination.”

“Yes.”

“There are those who believe that this is a secretive society, founded in the eighteenth century, with the sole purpose of controlling world events.”

“They do. I know.”

“A carefully hidden power elite,” he mumbled, “having a globalist agenda to rule the world through world government. Yes, a new world order.”

The reader looked at the time and closed the book.

“On the plus side,” said the man, not taking the hint, “some people think that these hidden forces have helped to create a better world; in fact, a safer world.”

“Well, perhaps.”

The man looked around the library. “Did you know that some people believe that it’s extra-terrestrials that influence the way the world operates? They’re supposed to do this by sending people down here, people that look like people that is. They come here to gather information about what people think. You know, some kind of survey.”

“Really? No, I didn’t know that,” said the reader, picking up his case and putting it on his lap. “It doesn’t surprise me. There are all kinds of theories on this topic.”

The man leant forward and tapped the book. “Do you believe that power corrupts and that absolute power corrupts absolutely?”

The reader was stunned by the question. “Well, yes, yes I do.”

“There you are then,” said the man and stood up. “Nice talking to you.” He offered his hand and they shook. He said, “Must be off,” and with a smile and a wave, he made his way to the exit.

Being right on closing time, the reader packed up quickly and moved to the counter. The lady looked up at the clock. After so many visits, they knew each other. With a kindly smile, she said, “Perfect timing.” She was returning his book when he asked, “That gentleman, not a regular I take it.”

“Which one was that, dear? We see so many.”

“No, the gentleman I was just talking to. The man who just left.”

She frowned. “Talking to? On your phone do you mean? You’re having me on. How could I possibly know that?”

“You must have seen me talking to him.” He turned around. “You can see directly into the corner, where I was sitting.”

She was looking slightly confused. “Yes. I saw you talking; could almost hear what you were saying. I thought you must have been on the phone.”

He stood quietly for a moment.

“So, you didn’t see the man who walked past the counter here, a minute ago.”

A look of pity crossed her face. “No, dear. It has been a very quiet end of day today. For the last hour you have been the only one in here. It’s only you now, dear.”

He nodded. “Sorry. Long day. I must be tired. Thanks again.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

Out in the street he found the cold night air refreshing. He stood thinking for a while. What had he said? Some kind of survey?

His shiver was not from the wind alone.

The wants of them;

Maybe to share

So many things,

Things simply based on care.

–

Maybe for someone

To merely find them,

To hear their song,

To listen to their secrets,

To compare right and wrong.

–

To share their joy,

Their jokes, their fears.

To share hopes and friends

Throughout the years.

–

Seeking self-fulfilment,

Finding some kind of passion,

Balancing life’s ever-changing needs,

Judging others with compassion.

–

What drives the want?

What drives the need?

The wants to choose;

Such wants are at liberty.

And once chosen,

Such freedom is already freed!

He sat watching the clock, quietly waiting for his visitor, a new replacement.

It was nearly time. He got up and he went to the door. He stood close to it. He heard footsteps approaching and a gentle single knock, followed by three more, followed by two. He slid the bolt and cracked it open, restrained by a safety chain. He peered out at the caller, and whispered, “Yes?”

The man outside said, “I’m Alistair Brown from the office, and you?”

The man inside said, “I’m Montgomery Green, I was expecting you. Please come in.”

With that, the door was unlatched and the man entered the room. He was carrying an attaché case. Green waved him to an armchair as he pushed the bolt back in place. He then took a matching chair opposite with a low table between them. Brown put his case down on the table and looked around the room. They sat in silence for a moment, then Brown said, “The vampire squirrel has a long tail.” Green nodded and said, “Unlike the short-tailed weasel.”

They sat for another brief moment, while the two men visibly relaxed.

“Ah! Fine,” said Green. “You’re our new man I understand.”

“Yes,” replied Brown, “only started this week.”

“All well and good then. What do you have for me?”

Brown went to his case. It had a series of five catches, each with a separate combination lock. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, while the numbers came back to him. After a minute he had them clicking open, one by one. He looked up, smiling with relief as he opened it up. He removed a small brown envelope. It had several small characters printed on its face, they read C-15-L. He placed it on the table and pushed it across.

Green stood and went to the wall clock. With a series of up-down-left-right movements, it came away to reveal a small safe. He stood for a long time turning the wheel back and forth, before the door came open. He removed a similar envelope and returning to the table, carefully placed it down and picked up the other. This was placed in the safe and the safe was relocked. He replaced the clock and returned to his seat. This whole procedure was carried out in silence, with Brown bearing witness to it.

Green smiled. “That concludes the exchange I believe.”

“Yes, thank you.” Brown leant forward and took the envelope. He paused, reading the front. He was frowning.

“Something wrong?” said Green.

“It’s the code!”

“Code?”

“Yes, the item code. That’s what it’s called, the item code.”

Green said, “What about it?”

Brown said, “It’s wrong, or at least I think it’s wrong.”

“Show me,” said Green and took the envelope.

Brown said, “It’s the last single digit. It’s an N!”

“Yes, I see that.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be. I’m not sure about the rest of it, but that last letter is the sequence. I’m positive about that. It should follow L, it should be an M.

“Good lord, you’re right!” Green agreed.

“I’m afraid the exchange has been compromised,” said Brown.

They both fell silent.

Green said, “Damn! You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Yes. I have to take mine back. We have to invoke the Retrieval Protocol.”

“We certainly do. OK. You know the drill?”

“It’s very strict, I understand.”

Green said, “It most certainly is.”

Brown said, “OK. He put the envelope in his case and locked it.”

Green went to the door, unbolted it, released the safety chain and opened it.

Brown nodded and went out.

Green bolted the door, replaced the chain and stood close to it.

After a few moments, he heard footsteps and a gentle single knock, followed by three more, followed by two…

She was eighteen and not going anywhere when she landed the job.

She was not a particularly bright girl, although a lot of her friends would say she was fun to be with. That probably carried more weight in her world than an elevated intellect. She had worked mainly in departmental stores since school, with nothing coming of it. Boyfriends just came and went and she was content to live at home with her mum and dad. In some respects, she supposed, it may have been her ordinariness that had made her right for the job. And what a job it was! There were rules to it, pretty strange ones at that, but the pay? The pay was great!

On reflection, there was no real accounting for how she got the job. It was just a call to her mobile phone coming up as a blocked number. She always answered those. She saw the call as being an interview, albeit a peculiar one. The man’s voice was very kind and the office rules were simple. No food or drink. No smoking. No phone or other personal electronic devices. She was to wear plain office attire. Carry no bag or purse of any kind. These instructions, along with a number of others, including her office hours, the address and a key, came through the post the day after the call. It was stated that the letter and the key were the only items she was allowed to have with her when she entered the office each day.

In short, all she had to do was answer the phone, and having no problem with the idea of having to do that, went along with the whole thing. The office was located through a door at the end of a hall. It was not really an office, more of a room. It had no windows and only contained three things, a chair, quite comfortable, a desk, quite small, and what she regarded as an old-fashioned telephone, the type with a rotating dial on the front.

At first, she regarded the entire thing as rather exciting. She caught a bus to the city centre each day. She entered the building. It contained a variety of companies, all providing different services. She took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. She walked the entire length of the hallway. At the unmarked door at the end, she would turn the key in the lock and enter. Just doing that, day after day for several weeks was quite exhilarating in itself.

However, human nature being what it is, the ugly spectre of boredom slowly raised its head. She sat thinking about that, about the ugly spectre of boredom slowly raising its head. She had read the phrase in a book once and it had stuck. She whispered to herself, “The ugly spectre of boredom slowly raised its head.”

She was musing like this to herself, when the phone rang…

  

 

 

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.