Author: Alexander Fawn

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.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed reading a comic.

They would always see that he got his favourite comics; every week. He noticed the date on the one he was reading. Tomorrow was Mayday! It used to be his favourite day of the year, when he and the other kids would stand on the corner, outside the village post office, to watch the parade go by. There would be lots of people. A May Queen was always chosen. Again, one of the local girls would be dressed in a traditional costume and wear a crown made of flowers. She would be carried on a sedan chair with side poles, carried on the shoulders by four of the men, all the way through the streets. Everyone would follow the parade, ending at the village green. They would all gather there. There would be lots of colourful flowers and dancing around the maypole.

Would she let him out this year?

He ran the side of his tin cup across the bars of his cage to get her attention.

He would make a point of asking her very nicely…

He remembers the endless nights he spent on intense study periods, every evening.

These guys have it easy now. To become a taxi driver back then you needed to have The Knowledge. Literally, more than two thousand streets, businesses and landmarks to commit to memory. He remembers it all well. Nowadays every man and his dog have got a good old satnav! Just press a few buttons and away you go. Nothing easier. Then of course, came Uber. Just about anyone can download the app and sign in for free. You may have to layout a little to meet any ridesharing requirements for the local authority, but that’s it. A piece of cake. Everything made so easy.

His own taxi days were cut short when he turned the wrong way into a one-way street doing well over the speed limit and ran two people over. One survived.

Of course, if he’d had a satnav…

If nothing else, you’d say that the boy was a dreamer.

He loves playing with sand. Every chance he gets, he happily digs out holes with his bare hands. He builds up small piles, creates channels and forms walls. There’s no end to the things he can make. Sometimes he has done this with his dad or his older brother, sometimes, even both. Always good when that happened. Never his younger sister. She would complain about getting her hands dirty. With none of them around, he had uninterrupted time to build something; something really big… It didn’t have to be a sandcastle; it could be anything. He dreamed about using water to mould the damp sand, bit by bit, to make handfuls. He could then use each clump to build a mighty tower!

He sat, looking around.

If it weren’t for the fact that he was in Chechnya, he’d have done all that.

He had been buying lottery tickets from the time he was old enough to do it.

Now, as a young man thinking back, he realised that the amount of money he must have forked out would have been substantial. He recalled how a few years back he had questioned the wisdom of laying out so much on a game of chance. It was soon after this that he’d seen the news item, reporting the fact that some lucky sod had won nearly two million, it kept him going. After all, he’d often thought about how he would spread his winnings around. He imagined how much personal satisfaction he would get out of sharing his good fortune. Naturally, this would include his immediate family and friends. They would all benefit from his long-term investment.

But this…

He straitened in his kitchen chair and looked down at it again. He was holding a winning ticket, worth one hundred and fifty million!

It changed all that.

How was he going to deal with the family, his friends, when they all find out?

He opened his laptop and began searching for tickets to Canada.

His father had always been brutal with him.

At one time his mother had been around to do her best to keep the physical abuse to a minimum… for both of them. When she got ill and finally passed away with cancer, the beatings happened more often. The old man had always been a drinker, but this was now becoming a great deal worse, and long before the opportunity came about for him to leave home, his plans to bump the old man off were forming. He began keeping meticulous notes on his mobile phone with regards to the method. The day after the final and particularly vicious beating, he left home. As a young man, independent and making a life of his own, several years passed with no return visits to home. Instead, he perfected a foolproof plan that would allow him to poison the old man and get away with it.

He had the poison he required, a ready excuse for his sudden return, the method of arriving and leaving without being detected, and his alibi regarding his whereabouts on the evening in question. It was all in place.

Arriving at the house on the appointed evening, he found it all in darkness. Being careful, he moved around the house checking doors and windows. If he was there, his dad didn’t want any visitors. Either that or he had moved. He had to go away and think about his own next move.

The following day he made enquiries by ringing around some of his old mates. He soon discovered that his father had died a few months ago of alcohol poisoning.

The deep sorrow that he felt and the tears that he wept were not about the loss of his father, but brought about by the fact that he’d been cheated!

As the centuries passed, the beginnings of the Darkism movement became less clear.

What had, over time, become completely lost was the fact that its origins can be found in the great revelation that was bestowed upon the man who regularly drove the bus that serviced route 328b. Quite predictably, those who found it difficult to understand why the Almighty should choose him in particular, only strengthened their arguments against the new religion. It had come to the man one evening while walking home from the bus depot to his nearby accommodation. Being still single, with no one waiting for his return, he sauntered through the streets with no idea that God was about to talk to him. This fact, coupled with the idea that he’d always regarded himself to be an atheist, made it even more surprising when he was approached by the Great Creator coming out of the late-night convenience store.

He recognised him straight away; the white robes, beard and the phosphorescent glow that surrounded His giant frame left no room for doubt. It was at this point that they strolled along together until arriving at his pokey little flat where he made himself a strong cup of tea and settled down to listen to what the Lord of Heaven had to say. It was explained that the King of Kings had made a mistake. It was made clear that when creating everything, He had slipped up on one single, but crucial point.

Over a long evening, the Absolute Being did his best to explain how it had all gone wrong. The man struggled with what he was being told and at the suggestion of the Deity, he made a lot of notes. The error occurred on the first of the even days of creation. Looking down on the great empty void, the Divine Being had brought into being light out of the darkness instead of darkness to cover the light. Everything that followed, like the land and the sea along with all manner of living creatures, was carried out without a hitch, except that it was all done in the light. This wasn’t what He wanted at all.

As the years and decades went by the great majority of peoples not only adjusted to the mode of darkness, but could well see the advantages of what the Great Maker had in mind. Despite the obvious problems associated with blocking light out wherever possible, the relaxed atmosphere taken up by all Darkismists was a great improvement generally. In the new world of total darkness there was very little crime, no fashion industry and a society that moved at a slower and a far more comfortable pace. Through this long period of adjustment, the newly found lifestyle became the norm.

However, having described all this as best as possible, although more recent, it remains even more difficult to put into words how the Great Reversal came about…