Author: Alexander Fawn

He was extremely annoyed about how nothing really lasts.

Whereas most people grew used to the idea that so many things in life are transitory, he never did. He sat reflecting on the fact that you can make yourself a delicious cheese and pickle roll, next time, the bread’s got spots of mould. One minute you can be driving through the countryside on a warm sunny day, really enjoying it, and moments later, you get a puncture. One minute you have perfect health, next, you get haemorrhoids.

The capricious nature of life itself was very annoying.

The fact that things were so endlessly volatile was bad enough, but worse was the fact that, as far as he knew, there was no one he could complain to!

She is in the kitchen making her first cup of coffee.

She switches the kettle on. She picks up her spoon and considers it for a moment, before she begins. To the unwanted observer, to watch her, with her array of imaginary bowls, yet holding a substantial teaspoon… it would make no sense at all. To see her tap the side of her real coffee mug would probably leave the onlooker wondering. Only she knows this is the start of her early morning ritual, something she has done within the privacy of her home ever since, and knowing that what she is about to do is for her alone.

Looking down at the row of illusory containers, she starts from the left, dipping her spoon in. Out comes a moderately heaped spoonful of patience. This is tipped into her mug. Next, a similar quantity of humility is taken from the following bowl. In it goes. In the same fashion, she moves along from bowl to bowl. Next comes forgivingness, then honesty, followed by selflessness, fairness, kindness, empathy and the last, integrity. These being her chosen ingredients.

Meanwhile, the kettle has come to the boil.

Coffee and sugar are added to her mug, then hot water and milk; all are stirred in together. She knows all that the mug contains.

She drinks slowly.

More and more, this in-between-lives thingy was being seen as a lot of mucking about.

Basically, those that dwelt in the in-between place were getting sick and tired of all the complaining. So, after a hell of a lot of squabbling, they decided to create a gateway. At least, they would give it a go. It meant that there needed to be an enormous amount of restructuring. At first, the elite committee made up of those chosen to oversee the changes required, were completely overwhelmed by the number of business models being presented. Of course, all of this remodelling was going on with those still alive knowing nothing about it. Anyway, after a great deal of behind-the-scenes work, consisting largely of discarding the myriad of ‘out there’ ideas that came their way, the work was carried out without it interrupting the natural everyday process of rebirth, resulting in the gateway being put in place. In place, but not yet open.

It would be a trial.

The gateway itself would admit allcomers. Most of the stipulated rules have been agreed to, but not all. It can be said, generally, that the whole business will be speeded up beyond recognition. Of course, this will only apply to the very few that are able to remember the last time.

There will be no restrictions with regards to religion, come one come all. The gender spectrum will be fully catered for. However, the same rules about no discussion regarding sex, politics or religion still apply. Good and bad alike will get pushed through. Any morality issues will be dealt with by others; this is a work in progress. Medications can be brought through by those that feel it necessary. Tax records are no longer inspected. Currently pets are not allowed, but this may change. There will no longer be an enquiry counter. In fact, questions are prohibited.

This is to mention only a few.

There will be no prophesy or prophet associated with the changes.

All efforts are being made to open the gateway in the near future. To quote what the Committee Head said recently. “It will only happen when we are good and ready.”

These last couple of weeks had been the loneliest she had ever experienced.

He often had to go away on business, she knew that, but never this long. Every time she picked up the phone and dialled, he had asked her to leave a message. It was not like him; not at all. She had been phoning him regularly for nearly two weeks without response. He was almost always available around lunch time and early evening. That’s when she would make herself comfortable in her usual spot, in the front lounge by the window looking out into the street, each time with a secret hope that she’d see him pull in.

Should she be contacting the police?

It happened on the afternoon she’d been poking around looking for something. That’s when she found his phone. At first, she was confused. Then, with a great rush, it all came crashing in on her!

That’s when she found all twenty-seven missed calls, since the funeral.

The Human Resources Manager was willing to give the boy a chance.

It was known that the boy came from a rough family with criminal connections. Despite this, the fact that the eighteen-year-old was tall and well-built made him ideal for the advertised position. It was work that involved a lot of heavy labour around the chemical plant. However, it was only his second day of employment that he was found to be rummaging through the drawers of this same manager’s desk. Needless to say, he was fired on the spot. That’s when things got ugly. An argument ensued with the boy producing a flick knife. Waving this around, he managed to send an instant call for help to his father. When the big brute of a man arrived, matters got worse.

With dire threats being made to the manager and his family, the commotion in the office grew louder. It was at this point that the factory’s security officer cautiously entered the office. Summing up the situation quickly, with his Taser set on maximum, he dropped both the father and son, in that order. The boy went down, falling on his knife, while the big man staggered momentarily before. As it happened, his head struck the corner of the manager’s desk as he fell. The blow was fatal.

With two dead bodies now lying on the floor of the manager’s office, the said manager slowly began to go to pieces. On the other hand, the security officer, being far more disciplined and well-trained in the performance of his duties, took control of the situation. It was agreed that the security man would return after hours and ‘tidy up’, while the manager took the rest of the day off.

At around two in the morning, the two bodies were placed in the bucket of a mini loader and transported to a part of the building where a huge vat of hydrochloric acid was kept. Wearing a gas mask and protection gloves, the massive lid of the vat was raised and the machine’s load was carefully dropped in.

In the morning, he would need to remind the manager to make the appropriate adjustments to his staff employment records. From his own point of view, all in all, knowing that their disappearance would be an entirely acceptable loss to the community, he went home to get a good night’s sleep.

He wanted to write a story about something completely different.

He needed to break away from the mainstream approach to writing short fiction stories. He’d been staring at the screen for some time and was getting nowhere. Seeing that it was coming up to lunchtime, he would make a sandwich and go to the local park to eat it. He had often found that doing this allowed him to think more clearly about a story he was trying to put together. He felt that he stood a better chance of coming up with something completely out of the ordinary if he made his way there and just sat thinking for a while.

As he entered the park, heading for his usual seat, he saw it was occupied. A strange looking character was sitting there with an animal of some kind on his lap. Drawing closer, he could see it was a man with his face painted to look like a sad clown. It reminded him of a circus poster he’d seen in town.

Anyway, the man with a clown face was holding a monkey. Coming closer still, he saw that the man was actually crying!

Just then, an elderly couple walked past the bench. As they did, the monkey reared up and snarled at them, baring its teeth. The woman screamed and they hurried on. This was followed by a loud whistle. It was coming from the park attendant, who came running to find out what was going on.

This won’t do, he thought, too much commotion going on here. I need to be able to think.

He took his lunch home.

Back in front of his laptop, he went back to coming up with something completely different to write about.

It would much rather be outside.

At first it had hung around the back door, hoping someone would come in; creating an escape route. Then as the morning went on and the weather became hotter, the activities of the two people inside became more and more interesting. The woman ran around for a while, waving a rolled-up magazine and bringing it down hard, quite close to where it had been sitting. This went on for some time and only stopped when the man said something. That was when the shouting started! They both seemed to have issues with what was being discussed. Meanwhile, it found that this change in the environment allowed it to carry on foraging for food.

It finally found a tiny scrap of rotting orange peel, tucked in between the cupboard and the dishwasher.

After its feed, it remained observing the commotion, out of sight.

Once or twice the man stood near the backdoor looking as though he might leave the house, any minute. If he did, it would make its move.

Finally, he stormed out of the house in a great hurry… it followed.

He watched the man enter the shed and slam the door.

At last, here in the peaceful atmosphere of the garden, relaxing on the back of the garden bench, it had time to think. It couldn’t help wondering about these people who, it had been told, were living things, far more advanced than itself.

Why, it thought, did they find life so horribly difficult to cope with?

Her father came home with a wrapped present for his little girl.

Her parents watched her rip the fancy paper off. It was an immediate hit! The soft cuddly monkey was immediately embraced. Whispering began, and she looked up saying that he wanted to be called Mojo. Although not expecting the unusual name, they were happy with whatever her young imagination came up with. After all, it was hers. Tucking her in for the night, the parents went back to their television series. In her bedroom, she and her monkey both lay awake. The conversation that followed between them would have had both parents extremely worried, despite the fact that it all made perfect sense. Unusual yes, but perfectly logical.

Mojo explained that his friend, a stuffed unicorn that lived in the magical woods, had been caught in a storm that had brought down some of the trees. One of them had fallen and caught its leg, trapping it, and it needed help.

Naturally, she was keen to help if she could.

Mojo, now fully animated, led the way to her wardrobe and entering, began pushing the back panel until it swung open. From there they made their way through a long tunnel, finally coming out into what had to be the magical forest. They soon came upon the unicorn with its leg pinned. It took a great deal of effort on her part to lift the trunk high enough for the creature to become free. With its liberty returned, and after many thanks, the unicorn gave her a beautiful, shiny stone for helping it, saying that it would protect her and bring her good fortune.

This was followed by the long walk back through the tunnel, out of her wardrobe and back into bed, where they both fell asleep instantly.

In the morning, after her husband had left for work, her daughter simply wouldn’t stop talking about her adventure. She described all of the events in great detail, several times. It wasn’t until he had returned from work and listened, yet again, to her wonderful adventure and with his wife, had tucked her in, that his wife suggested that they wait awhile before returning to the girl’s room.

Back at her bedside, watching her sleep, he smiled saying, “What a wonderful adventure.”

“Yes,” his wife whispered, opening the bedside drawer, taking something out. Holding up the bright blue sapphire, she said, “…and there’s this.”

He thought about all of those brave souls that had trodden this path.

He was in this place because he had put himself there. He alone was responsible for his present situation. He had to be prepared for what was to come. He thought about the trauma, the horrible pain and anguish they must have suffered and the torment they went through. It was now his turn to accept the inevitable. Would he show the same staunch, strength of character that had been shown by those courageous people who had gone before him.

He stiffened at the approaching sounds.

His wife came into the room and sat across from him.

Without a word, she lifted the corner of the large sticky plaster on his forearm and gave it a sudden, really hard, yank.

He screamed!

It was a warm, sunny morning and she was running late.

Normally, there would be no problem with her leaving sharp at ten, but with the build-up of orders together with her offsider being off sick, it meant she was behind time. She knew that feeling guilty made no sense at all, but she felt that way all the same. She was looking forward to the catch-up in their quiet place. It was the quietness that she found soothing. That’s why they had chosen it. In a way it was the quietness of the area that made it special and more personal, somehow. When the spot came into sight, she slowed down a little. As she approached, smiling, she said, “Running late. Sorry!”

He said nothing.

She sat down and opened a small plastic container. She took out half of a homemade sandwich and began to eat. After a while she said, “I picked up the new curtains for the lounge yesterday on the way home. That’s a job for the weekend, I think.”

He remained quiet.

She finished eating and closed the container. “I received an email from my sister last night,” she went on. “She told me more about the cruise that they’ve booked. She’s getting quite excited about it.”

Still no response.

She too sat silent for a while.

She looked around admiring the scenery, particularly the trees that surrounded the place. She thought about how much she loved being there. Eventually, she looked at the time and got up brushing bits of grass off her clothes. Despite the day warming, the marble felt cold when she laid her hand on it.

In a whisper that she herself could barely hear she told him how much she loved him and said that she would visit again tomorrow.

She left the way she came.