Author: Alexander Fawn

He thought abought taking his new girlfriend to the cinema to watch a movie they both liked.

Having just moved into an apartment that had virtually nothing in it yet, had him weighing up his options. On the one hand, they could drive to the cinema; cost of fuel, 2 dollars. He could buy two tickets; 16 dollars. Buy a large popcorn; 8 dollars. Two cokes; 10 dollars. Then, fuel home; 2 dollars. A total of 38 dollars. Although he wasn’t sure of the costs, he could estimate the price of a television at around; 3,000 dollars. A table to put it on; 200. A two-seater lounge; 2,000. A computer; 3,500. The first month’s internet connection; 60. A year’s streaming service that has the movie; 150. A microwave oven; another 150. A bag of ready to microwave popcorn; 15 and a large bottle of coke; 6 dollars. A grand total of 9,081 dollars.

He thought about it for a while.

He preferred and went for the latter.

There was no doubt about it, you had to pay for intimacy.

He went out to the local supermarket to buy a bottle of milk and a loaf of bread.

Considering the fact that fiction is one kind of story, whereas fantasy is one kind of fiction, it has to be remembered here that this story is fiction, not fantasy. Anyway, he was on his way to the local supermarket to buy a bottle of milk and a loaf of bread. The shops weren’t far from his house and he was walking. When he arrived at the supermarket’s entrance, he found a young girl sitting with her back to the wall and her head in her hands, sobbing. If this were a fantasy, which it isn’t, the man would have crouched down next to her, asking what was wrong. She would have looked up displaying a pointed nose and pointed ears. She would have told him that she was a fallen fairy and had lost her wings, but this being a fiction, a mother suddenly appeared scolding the child for wandering off.

In the bakery section he saw that there was only one of his favourite loaves left. He stretched in to pull it out. If this were a fantasy, this would have revealed a small mouse sitting up nibbling at something between its claws, begging him to say nothing because mice were not supposed to be in the store, but this being a fiction, he put the loaf in his basket and went looking for milk.

On the way, he found an elderly lady stooping to pick up a packet of biscuits she had dropped. She was obviously having trouble, so he offered to retrieve it for her. If this were a fantasy, he would have found that the packet would begin to float up before he could have hold of it. Handing it to the woman she too would begin to rise. Holding the packet and thanking him with a smile, she would then float up over the isle and disappear out of sight. But this being a fiction, he handed it to her and moved on.

He found the milk and moved to the checkout. He took out his card to pay for the items. If this were a fantasy, a bell would start ringing and a manager would arrive explaining that he was the one billionth customer in all their stores worldwide and he would hand him a golden coupon that would allow him to shop at any of the supermarkets free of any payment. But this being fiction, he paid and left.

Outside, finding the day sunny, he decided to return by a longer route, taking in the park. There, he found a seat and sat for a while with his bag of shopping beside him, enjoying the respite and the view, when a small dog approached. It sat in front of him looking up with pleading eyes. If this were a fantasy, the dog would begin to explain how it had been placed there as an observer and was aware of humankind’s problem with climate change. It went on to say how surprised it was that nobody had yet discovered a vast and endless source of energy right under their noses. But this being fiction, at that point the owner arrived, clipped the lead back onto the dog’s collar, apologised and walked on.

Getting up, the man continued his walk home. As he approached his front gate, he noticed something fluttering along with the wind and picked it up. It was a thousand dollar note.

The finding of this was not a fantasy, it was fiction…

It began with him and a couple of mates making stuff in the shed out the back.

They too were retired and enjoyed carpentry as a hobby. Word got around, and over time their numbers grew to a dozen or so likeminded people joining the workshop. It became a sort of club, with no rules to speak of. Members were always expected to carry out any woodwork projects safely and clean up after themselves. Some pieces were sold occasionally, with him acting as a sort of treasurer. From time to time more tools and pieces of equipment could be purchased for the shed. Then came the suggestion that a video could be made to be put online to promote their activities. It would advertise their making and selling products to the local community at very reasonable prices. The video would say that everything, from wooden toys such as cars and trains, along with chairs, small tables and storage boxes could be made. Also, that orders for custom-made pieces and repair jobs were welcome.

One of their members, with previous knowledge about producing commercials was tasked with establishing a programme for planning and producing a video with what little funds they had.

A date was set for a single-day of filming. They would need to have an idea of its proposed length. He was told that he would need to be named as the contact person, with is phone and email given. The place would need to be cleaned up to make it look safe. It would start with an exterior view of the shed, followed by a look around the workshop with some of its pieces of machinery and equipment. Inside filming would rely on letting in as much natural light as possible with additional inside lighting, if necessary. Where possible, it should show members of different ages. It needed to show a series of ‘activity shots’, to show the range of work that can be taken on; this being the main content of what was being offered to the public.

When the time came, the video was launched online and to everyone’s amazement within a few short months business was going gangbusters! Pretty soon they were selling their products and sending them off to buyers all around the country. Their prices were proving to be very attractive, with their items consisting mainly of wooden toys for children with a smaller number of things being made to order.

This led to a second building being constructed behind the shed to facilitate the dispatching of products.

Financially, they were doing extremely well, with the treasurer feeding back the details of bank statements to members, at regular weekly meetings. They were now online sellers, following all product safety laws and displaying a registered business certificate on the wall.

Towards the end of their first year of growing in numbers, increasing their output and making a great deal of money, a special meeting was called. At this, one of their members, who had previously worked for a major finance company, suggested that they were now well and truly ready for international exposure!

At breakfast, she was reading the services section in the local paper when she came across it.

For several days she had been having trouble with the house’s security system. It wasn’t working. Instead of a few taps at the control panel, she had to physically go around the whole house locking everything up. To make it worse, she had to do it quietly. It took forever, causing her to start her day much earlier. She looked up at the ceiling. Of course, there was an even bigger problem upstairs. She sighed. Looking back down, she saw the address. She couldn’t believe what she was reading. The ad read Security Handling Agency. This was local, no, this was in her street! Checking the time, she locked up as quickly as possible and left the house.

She walked past several houses, then crossed over. At the address, she stood for a moment looking at the place. There didn’t seem to be a sign of any sort. It just looked like an ordinary house.

Undeterred, she went up to the front door. There was no doorbell, only a small knocker. She gave it a few taps and waited.

The man who answered the door seemed puzzled to see her. Poking his head out, he looked up and down the street before saying, “Yes? Can I help you?”

Not being put off by the man’s behaviour, she said, “Yes. I hope so. Security Handling Agency, right?”

The man was visibly shaken by the question. In a small voice, he said, “Yes”.

“I was wondering whether you could fix something for me?”

“Pardon?”

“It’s a security matter.”

Still shaken, he said, “Sorry. I don’t understand.”

“Oh! I live across the street, just a few houses up, and I found your ad in the local paper this morning.”

His eyebrows shot up. ‘You found my ad?’ Shaking his head, he smiled. “That can’t be right.”

‘Well, I can assure you, I did. When I saw your address, you know, right across the street… I don’t know, it was some sort of providence, I suppose. Is that the right word, providence?’

‘Look. There’s something really wrong here. I get the same paper. Would you mind coming in for a minute and we’ll look for this advertisement you think you found?”

Checking her phone’s time, she said, “OK, but I mustn’t make myself late for work. You see, that’s part of the problem, the problem I’m having with security.”

She sat in his front room while he found the paper. Handing it to her, he said, “I’m sure you’re wrong about this. See for yourself, if you can find it.”

She began flipping pages. “I thought it was funny that you didn’t give a telephone number in the ad, only an address; this address.” She looked up. “Yes, here it is.”  She handed him the paper.

“Oh! No! This is all wrong. This shouldn’t be in here. Someone has really screwed up!”

“What do you mean?”

A strange smile came over the man’s face. “Look, lady. Let’s stop pussy-footing around, shall we… who do you want killed?”

The larger animal came upon the smaller one, feeding.

The animal had no idea that it was being watched. Being a herbivore, finding a large crop of fruit, together with an abundance of twigs and seeds, made it unlikely that it would notice. It happened to be a twig being crushed beneath the enormous beast’s foot that drew the others attention. At that moment, the chase was on. The hungry Tyrannosaurus Rex saw the other as a tasty meal. Whereas, the Anatosaurus knew only too well that if it were caught, it would be its end. The creatures dashed through the densely vegetated terrain for some distance before the smaller animal fell and remained still and silent. Moments later the hunter thundered by, unaware of the other’s lucky break.

After waiting a good while, Anatosaurus got to its feet. Feeling safe, it wandered back to finish its meal.

It had felt the ground trembling of late and wasn’t surprised to hear the rumbling. It looked up into the darkening sky.

Seeing the first downpour of huge, flaming objects falling down on the horizon told it that a greater threat was coming…

The weather was good and he’d been digging in the garden when he discovered it.

He was getting on in years, but still enjoyed growing his own vegetables. He’d decided to put in a row of carrots and was turning the soil over when his spade hit something metallic. He crouched down to take a closer look. The part of whatever it was he was looking at had a cylindrical shape, with some kind of metal label fixed to it. He brushed soil away to get a better look at it. The small print he couldn’t read, but it had something like a serial number in larger letters. He stood up and considered his best move. It may well be some sort of explosive device. Who should he call? On his list, in the house, he felt sure he’d seen an emergency number. He left everything as it was and went in.

He rang the number and a woman answered. “Hello. What is your emergency?”

He said, “I’m not sure, but I could have uncovered an explosive device in my back garden.”

“I see, just hold on sir and I’ll connect you to the right people that can help you with that.”

He waited for a couple of minutes before a different woman came on. “Hello. I believe you may have found an unexploded device in your back garden. Is that correct, sir?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Can you describe it for me?”

“Well, I can only see a bit of it, but it does have some sort of serial plate.”

“That’s good. Can you tell me what it says?”

“Only the serial number I’m afraid, if that’s what it is.”

“Can you give me that?”

“Not really, sorry. It’s quite lengthy; and I would have to clean it up a bit to read it properly.”

“No. That is not advisable, sir. It’s best that you don’t touch it at all. I should explain that our bomb disposal expert is out on a job at the moment and I don’t expect him back for some time. The best I can do is pass the available information to him. That will probably give him an idea of what we are dealing with.”

“I see.”

“So, if you can go back to it with pen and paper, take down whatever part of it you can read, then come back to the phone. I’ll wait for you. Do be careful.”

“Look. I do have a mobile phone. I could use it to take a photograph. Would that be best?”

“No, not at all, sir. It’s important that no electronic devices get near it.”

“Understood. Sorry.”

“No problem, sir. I’ll wait.”

He put the phone down, grabbed pen and paper, and went back to the thing. He recorded what he could see and returned to the house.

He picked the phone up. “Are you there?”

“Yes. I’m here.”

“OK. What I’ve got is the first part of the serial number. It read, HXT-9258, this was followed by several more numbers that I couldn’t read.”

“That’ll do fine. I’ll pass that on and call you back.”

Going back into the garden, he stood looking down at the object. He hoped he wasn’t causing a fuss over nothing. After all, he could be looking at some old coffee-making machine; he just didn’t know.

Back inside, the phone rang after a few more minutes.

He picked up. “Hello.”

“Yes. Hello, sir. Those first three letters tells our bomb disposal man what type of bomb it is. Yes. It certainly is a bomb. Now, I have some instructions to pass on. You will need to write this down.”

“OK. I have pen and paper.”

“Good. Firstly, this type is heat sensitive. As it is a sunny day, I have to ask; is it in shade or exposed?”

“Exposed.”

“All right, he suggested you create some shade for it. Maybe an umbrella or anything that will create a shadow. He says that with this type, it can be safely handled, provided you move it slowly and avoid any kind of impact. OK, so far?”

“Well, yes. I suppose so.”

“OK. He says, as you take it out of the ground, turn it over and you’ll find a circular plate at one end. This is held in place by four Philips-head screws. Would you have a screwdriver for that?”

“Yes, I’m sure I have, but… but is it safe to do this?”

“Yes. He told me it’s quite safe to handle the device, providing you follow these instructions.”

“OK, but wouldn’t it be better if I left it alone? He could come here tomorrow and disarm the thing himself.”

After a short pause, she said, “OK. Yes. That would be a reasonable idea, if it weren’t for the fact that this model may be time-sensitive.”

“What does that mean?”

“He says, because it’s been buried and kept relatively cool, the change in temperature, being exposed to heat, means that disarming it as soon as possible becomes necessary.”

“OK. He is the expert, when all’s been said and done. What’s next?”

“Good. When the cover’s off, you’ll see some coloured wires. I’m reading these now to make sure I get it right. There’ll be four wires: green, orange, red and blue. He says to cut the orange wire. He says they are quite thin and any ordinary pair of scissors will do. He also said, try hard not to disturb the blue wire! Have you got all that?”

“I think so. Can I call you back if I need to?”

“No need for that, sir. I’ll stay on the line.”

He stood, silently for a moment, before putting the phone down. A few minutes later, he was using an old deckchair to create some shade. He had a couple of screwdrivers and a pair of scissors. Pulling it out of the ground, gradually, went OK. The plate came off without any trouble. A chill went through him when he saw there were five wires! These were yellow, black, pink and grey.

Back in the house, he relayed this information.

She sounded surprised and said she would call back.

Less than a minute later, she called.

“He says he can get there by mid-morning, tomorrow. He asks if you have anywhere you can stay overnight?”

Little is known about it, naturally.

It has to be said that the discovery of this phenomenon is extremely unlikely. It is a shadow. A shadow, and only a shadow. It is, in fact, a singular and standalone entity. It is the only one of its kind. It can shapeshift and become very large or amazingly small. It travels from place to place, from country to country. It moves about this planet at will, each time in just the smallest fraction of a moment. It is not cast by anyone or thing, but is a standalone shadow. It can mingle with others, or boldly appear without warning. Most of the time it rests by casting itself onto any common or garden shadow. This renders it entirely invisible. Its very existence would be virtually impossible to prove. It has no purpose beyond simply doing what it does.

On the extremely rare occasions that it is seen for what it is, it is quite naturally dismissed without further thought, as being quite impossible.

Little is known about it, naturally.

The man from Venice died not knowing that he would give them a life of pure joy.

They met by chance at the concert hall. After the performance they sat in the cafeteria discussing their passion for the music until they were asked to leave. That’s how it all started. They both lived some distance from the city where they met, but they lived not too far apart and both worked in the same town. Several dates later, they learnt more about one another’s likes and disliked apart from music. They soon found out that she likes chips, he prefers mashed potatoes. He’s outgoing, she’s reserved. She likes wine, he likes lager. He likes crime, she likes comedy. She’s a vegetarian, he’s an omnivore. He follows the cricket, she follows basketball. She likes sweet, he likes savoury. He is punctual, she’s not. She’s a Christian, he’s an atheist. He’s a socialiser, she’s a wallflower. She’s an early bird; he’s a night owl. He’s an extrovert, she’s an introvert. She prefers spring, he, autumn. He likes curries, she doesn’t.

Despite any of this they went on to be happily married.

Little did the Venetian baroque composer from three centuries back know that he could bring such a couple together.

Through it all, it was their shared love of Albinoni that saw them through…

He didn’t know her very well.

They had met again recently at a friend’s birthday party. They had only chatted briefly, because she was there with her new boyfriend and she seemed to only have eyes for him. There was music going all through the evening and they danced together just about the whole time. She was obviously madly in love with the guy, or was she drunk? Either way, he got the impression that her feelings for him were a little over the top; maybe a touch too intense. Despite these negative considerations, he thought she was nice enough and hoped things worked out for them.

He was taken by surprise, just a couple of days later, when he received a late-night call from her. He recognised her voice straight away, although her speech was slurred, giving him the impression that she’d been drinking.

She started with, “Sorry about the…” A brief silence was followed by a burp.

“Lateness?” he suggested.

“Right, lateness.” She blew her nose. “Sorry.” she repeated, and seemed to sober up slightly. “I think I need some help.”

“Go on.”

“It’s him.”

“Him?”

“Yes, him. He was just like all the others!”

“He was?”

“Yes, he was, just like all the others, so he had to go.”

“You brushed him off, then.”

“No. He had to go. That’s why I’m calling you. He’s wrapped in an old blanket, and I’ve found the ideal spot for him in the garden.”

A long pause. “And you’re calling me, why?”

“I’ve been searching through the shed…”

“And?”

Another long pause, then. “You seemed nice, and it might be a bit of a liberty, but… I need a shovel.”

The requirement to arrive early became clear when he was given the form.

He began by looking through all eighteen pages. Reading the headings given on each page gave some idea of how exclusive, the venue really was. The form was an application to join ‘The Club’. As a prospective candidate, he knew that those who apply for membership are subjected to a most rigorous set of… well, the man on the phone called them bullet points. When he asked what sort of bullet points, he didn’t get much of an answer, but was told that it was an extremely long list. Asking to see the list made the man at reception go extremely pale. He glanced around, then said that they don’t actually hand these things out. He was told that all he needed to know was that every check box has to be ticked, to become a member.

He took a pen from the pot on the counter and sat down with the form. The pen had an intricate design and the club’s tiny inscription on it. It looked very expensive. Not many people would have one of these, he thought.

Fifty minutes later, having answered every question in such a way that he could be assured of acquiring membership, he handed the form in.

He was told, as a result of their thorough vetting system, it could take anything up to a year!

Nodding, he said he thought that he was a perfect candidate, but was told that it was far more than just being perfect. He was reminded once more that they were exclusive.

He kept the pen, just in case…