Author: Alexander Fawn

I bought a beautiful figurine of an owl in this expensive gift shop.

It was probably close to the size of a real owl. As I came out, this perfect stranger looked at my owl. I thought, wow! He’s looking at my owl. I made my way to the coffee shop with my owl tucked under my arm. The girl who took my order looked at my owl. She made a mistake and had to ring it up twice, I think it was because she kept looking at my owl. The barista looked across at my owl. As I moved to a table, customers were looking at my owl. The waitress nearly spilt my coffee, she kept looking at my owl. Another waitress came and asked me if everything was to my satisfaction, although she only did it so she could look at my owl.

On the bus the driver took my fare, then he looked at my owl. I was holding my owl higher now, as it was getting heavy. Everybody that got on the bus looked at my owl. Everybody that got off the bus looked at my owl. I began to wonder why so many people kept looking at my owl. I figured it could just be that you don’t often see someone holding an owl. There again, I felt sure that some of them at least, wanted my owl. I could understand that, because if I were them, I would want my owl. There was no doubt that it was a beautiful owl. It was probably the best owl I’d ever seen. Most of the way home, I just sat, looking at my owl.

I finally got home with my owl. I put my owl on the table in the corner. It was just me now, looking at my owl.

Just me.

She knew about the woman at number twenty-seven.

In fact, she had known for quite some time. Time enough for her to sit quietly scribbling in his absence. Well, more plotting than scribbling, actually. She had to admit that although the circumstances that brought her to this were extremely annoying; damn it, she had always done her best to be a good wife to him; anyway, despite all that, the truth was she positively enjoyed it. She had been aware of his comings and goings, all under the pretence of attending practice nights at the chess club. She had sat planning like this for so long, scribbling away, searching the Internet then scribbling some more.

It had occurred to her that because this had been the case over so many quiet evenings, she may very well find boredom setting in, after it was all managed. The fact that it was a double plot kept her busy for the time being. Timing was everything. That and the technology employed. It was simply amazing what you could find on the World Wide Web. Part of her plotting strategy was to continually delete her search history files, not that he ever looked at her laptop. The other was to do all her planning on paper, which once firmly in her head, got shredded.

He was tinkering with the gas boiler in the basement when it blew up.

She was visiting her mother at the time.

At the funeral there were a number of people from his work and a few friends. Enough to form a small crowd around the grave. Of course, she was there. She from up the road was there. Dressed in black, sobbing, occasionally looking over at the grieving wife. The widow was biding her time, waiting for the right moment… and there it was. The woman looked across the grave and the widow gave her a wink. The impact was immediate, although it was doubtful whether anyone else would have noticed. The widow found the look of shock and a small amount of terror in the woman’s eyes an absolute delight. But it would get better.

Moving around the mourners, quickly and quietly, the widow came up behind her late husband’s lover. Without making contact with her she whispered into her ear.

“Just thank your lucky stars that I’m going easier on you.”

As she moved away to return to her place, she was aware of the commotion she had left behind. The lady from up the road had fainted.

It was two days later, at her workplace, the woman received the telephone call, advising her that her house, number twenty-seven, was on fire.

After that, it all settled down. The woman from up the road moved. The widow enjoyed the fruits of her labour. But… but, after just a few months of role-playing over her poor dead husband, it started. It was that feeling that she had suspected might creep in on her. It did just that. It had been such a thrill, she had experienced such a high level of sheer excitement before, her life now felt horribly flat.

She sat with pen and paper, hoping to retrieve some of the euphoria. It wasn’t working.

There again, there was this guy in the office…

What a project that was.

At the time He thought it was one of his best. It had all come in on time and on budget. He’d put a great deal of work into it. There was nothing wrong with the original idea. He puts him down in this lovely garden then gives him a companion. The rules were simple enough, but they screwed it up big time. It all became a bit of a mess really.

It was at that point that He nearly gave the whole thing away. He had thought seven days would be enough. He may very well take a bit more time with any future projects.

He was looking down with dismay. He knows He should really stop looking at it. Of course, there was nothing stopping Him from scrubbing the entire universe thing altogether.

He could simply do something else. After all, when it came right down to it, He could do whatever He liked.

He’d think about it.

Endings are fine as far as they go,

Like the end of a schedule for a three year blog!

Endings for readers, it’s best not to know,

With some too obscure to see through the fog.

–

You can annul, you can stop, cease or finish;

Cancel dissolve or annihilate.

You can bring to an end or draw to a close,

Wind up, conclude or terminate.

–

The concept of complete finality

Is awesome and second to none.

Like a moth flying into a flame

Or a snowman left out in the sun.

–

When the last domino falls,

When all is said and done,

To be silly, it’s better to be at the end of a poem

Than at the end of a gun.

–

To consider a paradise lost,

With an end to all hopes and dreams,

But with happier tales in books, shows and movies,

They all have to end it seems.

To see the hourglass’s sand ebb away.

To watch as the stars lose their glow.

To be present when the last clock stops…

Then, endings are fine, as far as they go!

They had been travelling for some time when she spoke up.

“Are you sure you know how to get there?”

He said. “Sure.”

“I don’t recognise any of this, shouldn’t we have stayed on the main road?”

“No, we’re fine.”

“I think we’re lost.”

“We’re not lost, just relax, will you?”

“OK. I suppose I can be relaxed and lost at the same time.”

He blew out a breath. “We left late, if you remember,” he said, looking at her accusingly.

“So?”

“Well, you know, it makes you more rushed, more open to mistakes.”

“So you’re admitting to making some kind of mistake are you?”

“Not at all, I’m just saying…”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we’re not lost.”

After a while she spoke up again. “I don’t care what you say. I’m sure we’re lost.” She looked out at all the unfamiliar sights going past.

“No, we’re not lost. We’ve just gone a little astray that’s all.”

“Astray?”

“Yes. It’ll be fine. I’m looking for a turning.” He glanced at her. “I need to concentrate.”

Moments later, she said, “I did say we should get a car with one of those navigator things in it.”

“Too expensive.”

“We could use one now,” she said.

He scoffed. “Not likely. I don’t fancy having some weird voice telling me what to do all the time.”

“You can turn the sound off.”

“You can?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know that?”

“Man at work told me.”

He was silent for a while. “Well, I didn’t know that.”

“There you are, see? If we had one of those, we wouldn’t be lost.”

“I keep telling you. We’re not lost!”

“I think you should pull over, before we get more lost.”

He sighed. “You can’t get more lost.”

“No?”

“No. No such thing. Lost is lost.”

“Is that an admission?”

The frustration finally got to him and he pulled off the road and parked on the grassy verge.

He took out his mobile phone, looking for maps.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows, and said, “We are lost.”

“So, you do admit it?”

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean, sort of?”

“We’re lost in time.”

She looked at her watch. “In time?”

“Yes. The barbecue’s tomorrow.”

I saw him again today.

He looked so good in his suit. He probably wears it for his work. I’ve never seen where he works. Somewhere important, I’m sure. He probably has a lot of responsibilities; I’m sure he does.

He certainly looks after his hair. Every time I see him, he looks as though he’s just come from the barber’s.

He always seems so relaxed.

I’ve watched him walking through the shopping mall, from one end to the other. I was up on the gallery floor, looking down. I must have been there for ages just staring down. I love the way he walks.

I saw him talking to somebody once. It was in the street and he stood chatting to this other man. It looked as though he knew him. I watched his face, his expressions, the easy movements of his hands and his arms as he talked. He would be lovely to talk to.

And his smile! The first time I saw him smile my heart fluttered. Sounds corny I know, but it did.

Of course, it seems so silly that I’m making all this up.

But I’ll recognise him when I see him.

The call comes in to the station.

It’s transferred through to the detectives.

The caller has vital information.

They are interested.

He wants to meet.

He’s asked to come in to give a statement.

He refuses and names the time and place.

A detective is assigned.

The alley is unlit.

The detective calls in for backup.

The man steps out of the shadows.

The detective moves forward.

A second man appears and grabs the informant from behind.

The detective watches as a gun is put to the informant’s head.

A siren sounds.

Police dogs start barking.

The informant is struck to the ground.

The man runs off.

The detective takes chase.

The dogs and their handler follow.

The man makes for the bridge.

The dogs are let off their leads.

The detective gets to the bridge.

The dogs race passed him.

The man jumps up on the railings.

The dogs yap at his feet.

The man loses his balance.

The detective catches up.

The man falls from a great height.

The detective looks down to see the man enter the water.

The handler calms the dogs.

The detective watches for signs.

The man comes up and just floats.

Back at the station the detective grabs a coffee.

The detectives shift is nearly over.

The chief says he’s happy.

The detective does the paperwork.

He gets another coffee.

The station goes quiet.

The detective gets another pat on the back and goes home early.

He sits at home in silence.

He remembers his childhood.

How much he wanted to grow up and become a Botanist.

Things never change.

He had peered in at it so many times on his way to the bus stop each morning.

The joy of knowing that he could see it, almost made him look forward to school. Almost, but not quite. He wondered how it was possible that a thing so small could cost so much. It had been the object of his desire so long that he couldn’t stand it much longer. He made some fairly complex calculations trying to work out just how long it would take him to save up for it. After careful thought he came up with a plan.

It was exactly as he anticipated, when the final moment came and it was right there, in his hands. It was so awesome.

He stood, mesmerised by it, before his reverie was shattered and he became aware of the shop’s alarm bell clanging.

He carefully picked his way through the broken shards of window glass, and quickly disappeared down the alley, just as the sirens grew louder.

This was what she had always wanted to do.

Moving into the flat near the university was a good move from the point of view of making progress with her studies. The course itself was going well, she had always been interested in social welfare issues and wanted to get a better understanding of matters that impact on both the community and society in general, particularly for the aging population. Going for a bachelor degree in Social Science was what she had always dreamed of doing.

On the other hand, she really needed to get some sort of part-time work. She had literally lost count of the number of resumes she had sent out. Most of them getting no reply at all.

In desperation she phoned home.

Her father was saying, “Something part-time you say… well, I did see in the obituaries a while back that old man Barns passed away. I used to play golf with him soon after I retired. Do you remember him?”

“Only vaguely, why?” she asked.

“He owned that auto parts shop, not far from you, in the high street. I’ve met his wife a few times, nice old lady; probably worth a fortune now. Anyway, they never had children so I assume she’s taken it over. She might give you a job. It’s worth a try.”

“Wow! That would be great Dad! How do I get in touch?”

“OK. I’ll give you the number, but let me get in touch first. I ought to anyway, since I knew her husband. I’m pretty sure she’ll remember me. I’ll say you are looking for something and give you a bit of a plug; can’t do any harm.”

“Oh! Thank you so much.”

“Not a problem sweetie. Glad I could be of help. I’ll give her a call today and you can follow up tomorrow.”

“Will do, and thanks again. Bye.”

This could be just the break she needed. So handy. So close.

Time dragged; but she finally made the call the next day.

“Hello, Mrs Barns?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“My father suggested that I give you a call.”

“Oh! Yes. He said you might be in touch. He said you were looking for something.”

“Yes, I am.”

“He told me you are a keen worker. Is that right?”

She hesitated, “Well, yes, of course.”

“Oh! Bless you my dear. You can start on Monday, if you like. Of course, I can’t afford to pay you. This is so kind of you to volunteer.”

The student was shocked into silence. She started, “I… I haven’t…”

The woman went on, “It will be such a help. Trying to keep house since my husband died… well, it’s been very difficult. As for the business, I seem to be losing more money than I’m making.” There was a long pause, then she spoke again, sounding tearful. “I’m sorry my dear. You don’t want to be burdened with any of that, I’m sure.”

“No. That’s alright, not at all.”

“Lovely. See you Monday then.”

She dropped the phone. “Well. Here we go,” she murmured, “social welfare in action!”

When he was young he used to play with the smaller kid next door.

The smaller kid was happy about that, as he wasn’t popular with others of his age. In fact, most of the time they were downright unkind to him. The kid was an easy target. This was mainly because he had a lot of stuff going on. His constant facial tics were the most noticeable, like rapid blinking, but he had other things on the go. Like the clicking noise he used to make with his teeth and the cracking of his knuckles.

There were a whole lot of sudden, uncontrolled body movements, some of which could really take you by surprise. Like the twitching of the shoulders and the obsessive slapping of the knees, the head jerking, earlobe scratching, foot tapping, throat clearing and nail biting; and of course, there was always the grunting and the sniffing.

Now, all these years later, with a medical degree and a fair slice of life behind him, he looked back, remembering the kid next door… with a kindly understanding.

All these things were simply ways for him to cope with him being him.