Author: Alexander Fawn

He just knew that it wasn’t going to be a good day the moment he opened his eyes.

He hit the button on the alarm clock to stop the thing jangling. Despite the way he felt, it would probably turn out to be a day just like any other. He washed and dressed, made breakfast and ate it, walked to the bus shelter and found a seat. The 47b came on time. He sat for twelve minutes and he got off in town. He was crossing the street to get to the office when he heard someone shout. It sounded like ‘look out’, but he couldn’t be sure. The next thing he knows, he’s looking up into the morning sky when he hears the swish and thud of doors closing. He suddenly found himself in an elevator, going up.

As he stepped out, an attendant wearing jeans and t-shirt approached. He was chewing gum.

Looking around frowning, the newcomer said, “Hello. What do I do? Sorry, I’m new to this.”

“Course you are, mate. You’re dead.”

“Yes, you’re right; of course. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. It’s quite natural to feel nervous.”

Taking another look around, he said, “Sorry, but… sorry, I said sorry again.” He shrugged. “I’ll try not to tell you I’m sorry, despite the fact that I really am, of course, to be here, I mean.” He shrugged again. “Anyway, I was expecting to find some nice old man with a beard standing in front of pearly gates, deciding whether he should let me in or not.”

The attendant chortled. “No. No. Nothing like that. Not anymore. We’ve had upgrades.” He chewed for a bit. “Management has decided on a two-pronged approach; we’ve gone both digital and layback.” He dropped his voice. “I don’t mind telling you, we on staff are very happy with the changes.” He took his gum out, looked at it and put it back. “Personally, I think it’s really great that I can chew gum.”

“Yes. I can see that. So then… mate, what do I have to do?”

“Ah! I thought you get around to asking. Simple really.” He jerked his thumb sideways. “Just step over to the machine there.”

The newcomer turned to see a machine that hadn’t been there before.

The attendant went on, “Just log in and answer a few simple questions. Any problems, just yell and I’ll materialise and give you a hand. My name’s Clive, by the way.”

With that, he was gone.

“Oh! OK, Clive. Sounds good. Thanks,” he said, to the space where the other had stood a moment before. He stepped across to something that looked like a jukebox and read the instructions that automatically came up on the screen as he drew close.

It read: If you feel that, during your time, you’ve not done anything really wrong, press ‘A’.

Looking down at the alphabetical keypad, it only had three buttons marked ‘A’, ‘B’ and ‘C’. He pressed ‘A’.

After a few beats, the instructions faded and a new message came into focus.

It read: ‘Yes. That tallies with our records. What was your cause of death? If the cause was natural, such as one that comes about as a result of an internal factor that causes the body to shut down, press ‘A’. If the cause was unnatural, such as accident, homicide, suicide, drowning, poisoning, et cetera, please press ‘B’.

He thought for a moment, then pressed ‘B’.

For a while, he stood waiting. Finally, the new text appeared. It read: Confirmation of data provided is now complete. You may now return to the elevator.

As he approached the doors, they opened with a swish. He stepped in and it began to rise.

He was happy with that, but couldn’t help wondering what the ‘C’ button was for.

There can be no doubt that there was a real issue with the road.

It was just a two kilometre stretch of dead straight highway. Some said there was a jinx on it. Most sensible people laughed at the idea. There was definitely no problem with the condition of the road. It had a good surface and you would think it would be a pleasure to drive on. However, locals, who should know better, who used it occasionally, broke down. Tourists from out of town who took no notice of local gossip, until they drove on it, that is. They broke down. It all came to a head when the police went out there on motorbikes to monitor activity and each of them broke down, followed by a police car being sent to find out what was going on, when it too broke down, and this was followed by the tow truck that went out to their rescue them all, which in turn, broke down.

There are some that say that the day the newly licenced son of the council chairman who went out with his tow truck to give assistance to all of these vehicles, but only got halfway when his own truck broke down was the actual cause of the council having the road blocked off to all future traffic.

Whether this was true or not, it was done by having a set of huge concrete bollards placed at either end.

Someone on the town council suggested that now that the road was closed off, it should be rezoned and the area developed as an airport, something they had needed for some time. After all, it already had a runway.

It has to be said that there were those who thought this was a really bad idea!

She shared her troubles with her best friend.

As always, she was most understanding. In fact, she told her about a secret place on the dark web and how to get there. It was an otherwise hidden site where there was a service provider that operated an email system that enabled those in the know to send a message directly to God. That evening, opening her laptop, she carefully used the instructions that her friend had written down for her.

Finding it, she typed in…

‘Dear God

My boyfriend and I broke up last week. We had a big row. I think he has had time to realise that I was right and he was wrong. Would you please have him call me with an apology and a heartfelt request for us to get back together again. Could you also have him bring chocolates when he visits next, preferably the ones with fruit flavours in their centres.

Diedre’

All she had to do now was wait for his call.

As it turned out, they both worked for the same company.

It was the city’s largest home construction company. The offices of Creative Homes were located in the central business district, in a three-story building. There slogan was ‘Building Together’. As it happened, it was on the top floor that Tony Tenon worked as a draftsman. Meanwhile, in the administration section, located on the ground floor, Melanie Mortice was employed as an invoicing clerk. Although it may seem strange, in this large company that employed so many people, they had never actually met. This was all about to change when the coffee machine that serviced the people on the third floor broke down.

As the number of people working on the second floor was relatively small, no dispensing machine had ever been installed there. As a result, the staff on the top floor, this included Tony, along with those on the second floor, were continually using the elevator to use the machine on the ground floor.

As the repairman was not available until the following day, this situation continued both morning and afternoon. This quite naturally made the ground floor machine extremely busy all day.

Despite this, it wasn’t until about three in the afternoon that Tony and Melonie found themselves queuing together behind several others. Behind Tony, Melonie was chatting with another girl from the same office. Melonie was saying that she was trying to catch up with a backlog of paperwork.

When Tony was behind just a couple of people waiting, he turned around and offered to let them go first. Although surprised by this, they both smiled and accepted his offer.

How this random first meeting went on from this point can be quite quickly and easily summed up. They regularly came together socially. They then both joined the same tennis club.

Eventually, as they were obviously meant to… they married.

The accident occurred on a lonely stretch of road.

It was dark and he’d been running late. He’d been trying to send a message to tell his wife this, when he dropped his phone. He should never have tried to retrieve it while driving. The car veered to the left, rolled down the embankment and ended up on its roof. It took an age to wind down the window enough for him to crawl out. It took another age for him to scale the steep bank. At least he is now beside the road and visible, should any cars come by. The back of his head was bleeding and several times he felt he might pass out. For now, it was a case of waiting. Waiting for someone to come along and help. He probably needed to get to a hospital. He was thinking this, when he passed out.

He was barely conscious when he heard footsteps approach. Although he couldn’t move, a feeling of relief swept through him at the thought that help had arrived, at last. He was aware of hands searching his jacket pockets and removing his wallet. Someone was obviously looking for some form of identification. He hoped that whoever it was had a mobile phone they could use to call for an ambulance.

Instead, all he heard was footsteps hurriedly receding…

He was being trained on the job and his boss seemed to be pleased with his progress.

He knew this because he’d heard him talking to other men in the workshop, telling them that he was a bit of a tow-rag. He knew how important a tow-rag was. He knew this, because his uncle’s a plumber and often has to attach a tow-rag to the end of a pipe or any other extra-long thingy sticking out the back of his utility truck. He used a red piece of rag when he could. He told him how important a tow-rag was, because they can instantly highlight hazards. He also said they should really be used at the back of vehicles being towed. It was a courtesy to other road-users. Today, his boss had said that he was a proper tow-rag!

In time, he would find out that a tow-rag is properly named as an ‘oversize load flag’, used on the end of a long load being carried by a vehicle, while a ‘toerag’ is a slang term for a contemptible or despicable person.

Meanwhile, he would try not to get too bigheaded.

He was on the bus when he saw her.

He had a feeling that she reminded him of someone. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He never could. In truth, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t had this feeling before. There was something haunting about it, whenever it happened. They were only glimmerings. He looked across again. Of course, it couldn’t possibly be her; whoever her was. The woman must be in her late twenties. It seemed strange that he was well into his fifties and finding these incidents were occurring more and more often. He would see a woman in the street, in a supermarket, standing at a bus stop, or just sitting on a park bench, and the sensation would come over him again.

Maybe, some day it would come to him; the truth that he’d been supressing for such a long time. These passing strangers where in some peculiar way reminding him of an eleven-year-old girl…

The one that stole his heart.

She sat watching the cat’s eyes streaming passed the car.

The weather was terrible. Neither of them had thought about a taxi. She was barely awake as she stared out through the dark at the line of illuminating reflective studs embedded on the road, looking like a set of lights on a landing strip. They reminded her of their recent overseas holiday; looking out onto the runway, landing at night. It may have been the drink that made her now reminiscent about the time they’d spent on the beach, soaking up the sun. Occasional sheets of rain hitting the windscreen obscured the image. She felt like complaining. Looking across at him, she laughed softly at the thought of him climbing up onto the table in the restaurant. He’d never been much of a singer. She giggled, thinking Elvis did it better.

She had tried to stop him ordering that second bottle of Champaign. She hadn’t tried very hard, after all, it was his celebration. Head office had named him salesman of the year. The bonus was very generous. No one could sell life insurance like him!

It had been the blazing headlights that came out of nowhere that bewildered him.

It was during the few short seconds between the tyres leaving the verge and the tree, the impact and the great ball of flame, that he had time to think that the children would be well provided for.

It was a dark night when she entered the woods.

She always looked forward to her visits, although following the narrow path was a lot easier in the daylight. It was rare that she visited the old lady so late in the evening, but she had been sick. They had often suggested that she move to somewhere much closer, but she wouldn’t budge. She could be very obstinate. The old girl was bedridden a lot of the time. The basket was heavy, but she would definitely be hungry. She’d had trouble with her teeth, but she was sure she’d be pleased that she was bringing food, she thought. As she approached, she could see smoke coming from the chimney. It surprised her that she was well enough to get the fire going, considering her condition. There again, that had to be a good sign, she thought.

As she entered, she found the place was dimly lit. She called out, “Just me Gran. It’s dark in here.”

Gran croaked, “Yes. I’m saving the lamp oil, dear. I’m still in bed, come on through.”

She doesn’t sound at all well, she thought, as she went in. The bedroom was not a lot brighter, but she could see straight away how dark her face was.

“Oh! Gran, you don’t look at all well!” she said. “I’ll put this food away for you.”

She heard, “Thank you, dear,” as she entered the tiny kitchen. She could only just see well enough to put the basket down. She began putting things away in cupboards, with the sick woman going on about her eyes and her teeth. She couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.

When everything was put away, she went back into the bedroom and said, “Sorry Gran, you were saying something about your teeth?”

The figure, slowly getting out of bed, said, “I was saying that my big teeth are all the better to eat you with, my dear!”

It was at this point, that the young maiden pulled her red cape aside and whipped out the pocket-sized Glock 42 handgun, and emptied it into the nasty creature.

So there!

To say that he was bookish didn’t tell the half of it.

He had a great passion for losing himself in a wide range of literature. Although people would generally have no issue with his ongoing commitment to such intensive study, they may well hold the opinion that he was actually more immersed in what he had read, than real life. He had an overstocked bookcase in every room in his small flat, except for the bathroom. Some did wonder about him. A good example of this transpired the day he found himself to be in a low mood when he walked through the front door. The man who greeted him could see that there was something wrong.

“You all right, mate?”

“Ah! To take up arms against a sea of troubles.”

“Eh?”

“Shakespeare, Hamlet.” He sighed. “Woe is me, for I am truly undone.”

“Pardon?”

“The Unhappy Plumber, Bridlingsworth.” He shrugged. “I’m truly sick of it, Clarence.”

“Excuse me?”

“A Slow Death, Shovronenski.” He gave another long sigh. “Sod it! What’s the point of it all?”

“Do what?”

“A Broken Heart, Millingstone.”

“Look chum, this is a patisserie, what can I get you?”