Author: Alexander Fawn

She was always happy to visit her grandmother.

Taking a basket of food to her on a regular basis was always a joy for her. Because the elderly lady lived in a cottage deep in the wood, this gave the girl the additional pleasure of walking through nature’s lovely surroundings of tall trees and colourful carpets of wild flowers. When she arrived, she entered very quietly through the front door. Knowing that her grandmother had come down with Covid, meant that her visit would be appreciated all the more. For this reason, she made her way directly to her bedroom, where she had been convalescing for a couple of days. Sure enough, she found her tucked up in bed.

“Hello, grandma.” she said, as she entered the dimly lit room. “I was so sorry to hear that you had come down with this awful virus.” Holding the basket up, she said, “I’ve brought you something nice, to cheer you up.”

“Oh! Thank you, my dear,” she said, with a gravelly voice. “You are such a good child.”

“You poor thing, your throat sounds really bad. Are you taking something for that?”

“I, eh, well yes, lozenges, my dearest.”

Frowning, the visitor said, “I must say, your eyes do look rather big. That could be the virus, I suppose.”

The other blinked a couple of times, and said, “Yes, you’re probably right, child.”

Leaning forward, the girl said, “Your ears!”

“What about them, dear?”

“I don’t know, they just look larger, somehow. Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.”

“That’s quite all right, child.”

Squinting, the girl said, “Your teeth!”, slipping her hand into the basket, as she put it down at the foot of the bed; her hand then moving quickly, behind her back.

“Your teeth,” she repeated.

“Yes,” came the reply, “my teeth. Long and sharp, aren’t they? All the better to eat you with, my dear.”

With this, the wolf, for that is what it was, not her grandmother at all, threw off the covers and slowly crawled along the bed towards her, growling and with saliva dripping from its ugly jaws.

At this point, the girl’s arm swept around from behind her back. The beast halted. The nozzle of a Mauser P08 9mm Luger handgun came to rest in the centre of the wolf’s forehead.

It hardly had time to comprehend what was happening, before she pulled the trigger.

He first saw her coming out of a shop.

She was with a couple of girlfriends. The name of the shop and their bags told him they had been buying clothes. They were all laughing, but it was the smile that lingered on her face that made his pulse race. Several times after this, he spotted her again. A couple of times, coming out of a building, where he imagined she worked and once in a nearby café. After a few days of seeing her around town, he was sitting on a seat in the middle of one of the shopping centre’s thoroughfares. He knew that she would pass that way. He had observed that this was the route she took from her office to the café where she usually had lunch.

Eventually, she came into sight. She was passing, when she suddenly stopped and looked across at him. There was no smile visible as she approached. Standing directly in front of him and still frowning, she said, “Are you stalking me?”

Momentarily lost for words, he could only blurt out the truth. “No,” he said, “but I did wonder if I could take you to lunch.”

Now smiling, she said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

He’d always been a bit of a loser.

From the start, it was obvious that committing crimes would not be a good area of activity to get into. However, one thing led to another and after failing to find work and making ends meet with the odd petty crime, he decided to go for the big one. Robbing a bank seemed to be fairly straight forward and he had given it quite a bit of thought. At least, this would definitely decide whether he was capable of pulling such a thing off. So, with his plan and its careful timing worked out, he entered the largest bank in town and went to the back wall to fill out a withdrawal slip. Like him, several customers were wearing covid 19 masks. With his cap pulled down to his eyebrows, he looked along the row of tellers.

Seeing that an attractive woman was serving only one client, he walked across and stood behind him. As the man moved off the amateur bank robber went forward with his piece of paper. The request for all immediately available cash to be placed in the large brown paper bag he slid across, was carefully read by the teller. She seemed to be surprisingly calm as the notes were being stuffed in and the bag handed over.

He was amazed at how well the whole affair had gone, as he slowly made his way to the front door. This was the case, until he found two arresting officers waiting at his car…

Sometime later, having received an unusually light sentence, probably because he had attempted to rob while unarmed and had carried it all out with no threat being made, he now had a not uncomfortable cell in a prison in a nearby town. It was around this time that he had been told that he had a visitor; one that he wasn’t expecting.

Shortly after, he found himself sitting down in front of the very same teller!

She began by apologising for having pressed the emergency response button beneath the counter. “I had to do that. I hope you understand?”

“Of course,” he replied. “It was your duty, after all. That was what you, as an employee of the bank, were expected to do.”

She smiled. “I knew you’d be understanding. The eyes have it, you see?”

He shook his head. “Sorry?”

She shrugged. “I could tell from just your eyes that you were actually a very nice person.” She stared at him for a moment. “This is the first time I’ve seen you properly, without your mask, I mean. The newspaper photos didn’t do you justice.” Becoming a little self-conscious, she blushed.

For several beats, he was lost for words.

“Sounds silly, does it?”

With his own cheeks going red, he said, “No, not at all.”

She straightened. “Of all the tellers, I have wondered why you chose me?”

Without hesitation, he said, “Because you had a kind face, I suppose.”

She sighed with relief. “Oh! That’s good, because, and this is probably going to sound crazy, but when you get out of here, I’d like to help you go straight.”

It was now his time to stare. “Do you really mean that?”

With a lovely smile, she said, “I do.”

He asked, “Will you visit me again?”

Nodding, she said, “Just as often as I can, you can be sure of that.”

He seemed to know all about the woman.

His next-door neighbour was certainly impressed with how much he knew. He was telling her that Linda, he thought it was Linda, had been at kindergarten with him. “That would make her about forty-two now,” he said. He went on to say that she had done very well at high school, and that she went on to study at the university here and majored in chemistry. He told her that she worked for the big pharmaceutical company in the city for around twelve years where she met her future husband. They married and she left the company when she fell regnant and never returned to the workforce. He still works there. He’s in management now. More recently Linda, or was it Lydia? Anyway, she has got involved with a charitable organisation that operates a food bank for the needy. She’s also a member of the local golf club… and she helps out at the local school, as well, he told her.

His neighbour said, “Wow! I didn’t know any of that!”

She turned to go in.

Over her shoulder, she said, “By the way, her name’s Lesley.”

It was the last thing he had expected.

He’d been walking through town late at night when he was accosted. He did wonder about the large, rough looking individual as he approached from the opposite direction. It was as they passed that he felt the sudden grip on his collar that swung him into the recess of a shop’s doorway. His assailant, obviously a mugger, held something that felt like a knife to his throat. For a moment or two they stood face to face in the poor light. After the mugger checked the street, in a gruff voice, he said, “I’ll take your wallet, if you don’t mind.”

The man whimpered. “I don’t carry one anymore; honestly, not since my wife died.”

The oaf frowned. “Why not?”

With a contorted face, the man said, “Well, things have gone downhill for me since then. I suffered depression for a while and took time off work.” His eyes watered. “That went badly because the boss eventually let me go. I haven’t been able to find work since. Not only that, my landlord has given me a week to vacate and…” He began to sob.

Taking the plastic comb from the man’s throat, the mugger held up his hand. “OK. I get it.” With a sigh, he took a five dollar note from his own wallet and handed it over, saying, “Now, push off, will you?” With that, he pushed him back out into the street.

The man stood for a moment, nodding gratefully. He said, “Thank you, so much,” and slowly walked away.

Turning into the next street, he felt the satisfying bulge in his back pocket.

He had been suffering from the growing amount of fake news for some time.

He simply couldn’t tell what news was fake and what news was real. The proliferation of so many media sources coming up with false or misleading information was causing him to suffer mentally. He felt that trusting these false stories could easily lead people, including himself, to make decisions that could cause harm. He was aware that both his physical and mental health had been going downhill for some time. It was because of all of this that he walked halfway across a very long and extremely high bridge. Once there, he climbed over the metal rail that was a safety barrier and stood on the narrow concrete ledge, looking down into the deepest part of the river. He began to scream about how he couldn’t take it anymore.

Cars began to stop, with people getting out to find out what he was saying. Before too long, the centre of the bridge was clogged with cars and people swarming around. They were using their mobile phones to tell others about what was going on. For some time, they were gathered there, listening to him rant and rave about fake news and what it had done to him.

Somewhere in the crowd a man called out something about the truth. This caught his attention and he quickly stopped screaming his message of despair. He turned his head enough to see the man push his way through the crowd and come right up to the barrier.

The crowd went quiet while the stranger spoke softly to the man on the ledge, who suddenly raised his voice, asking, “Hang on, did you say you were a reporter?”

“Yes,” came the reply, “I’ll tell your story for you.”

He jumped

If there was one thing he really enjoyed, it was being on a rowdy protest march.

It had been a good year for them. There were rallies about school classroom numbers, climate change, euthanasia, abortion, student fees, gay rights, domestic violence, same sex marriage, greenhouse emissions and saving the forests. He travelled around the country to every rally or march that was taking place. One way or the other, he had strong views about all of them. There had been peace rallies, about the use of nuclear energy, men’s rights, women’s rights and last but not least, rallies concerning the ever-worsening problem of too many people entering the country. That day’s protest march would most definitely have to be about his most favourite gripe. It was calling on politicians to realize that immigration numbers were out of control. In his view, far too many foreigners were coming into the country with the government doing nothing about it.

It had to be said that protesting about absolutely anything at all was what he enjoyed most. It had been a really good protest march, going right up to the building where the politicians made the laws about letting people in. It had been a fairly full-on affair this time, with a great deal of shouting and screaming. He thought some of the racial slurs were really good. There were lots of banners and only a couple of minor fights breaking out. He had always avoided these whenever possible on the basis that it might stop him from attending other protests he had plans for; those on his circuit around the country.

That night, he went to bed deliriously happy.

It was probably a good thing that he had no idea that when he woke up in the morning, he’d be coloured…

She works at a small desk in the corner of the office, but doesn’t spend much time there.

She carries out a number of duties around the place. Duties that have never been clearly defined or written down anywhere. These take up most of her day. She sorts and distributes the mail every morning. She files away any documents, as needed. She restocks the stationary cupboard and keeps it tidy. Sometimes she makes cups of coffee to order and delivers them to the managers’ desks. She nearly always makes drinks for the visitors, when requested. She mops the floor, whenever there’s a spill. On occasion, she collects items from the nearby drycleaners. You would have to say that she spends most of her time running errands. All of the above would definitely make her a gofer.

She arrived there straight from school, three years back. She is diligent and careful with what she does, but occasionally makes mistakes, minor ones. She dresses neatly and always arrives on time in the morning and stays a little late, if needed. She always uses the bus. It is generally known that she has a place to go to; a house that she shares with others. She is friendly enough, but tends to keep very much to herself.

People often say how indispensable she is.

What she does outside of working hours is completely unknown.

Truth be told, this is how she likes it…

He felt that the trust had gone out of their relationship.

More and more, he felt that she was hiding something from him. Could it be that she was two-timing on him? He didn’t think so. He had made it very clear that if something like that ever happened, he would kill her. He knew that he could be a little rough with her; he even knocked her around occasionally. Nothing serious, just the odd thump when she deserved it. No, it couldn’t be that. She wouldn’t dare! However, there was something going on. He had noticed that from time to time she’d lock herself in the bathroom. He would hear a muffled one-way conversation going on. It might be quite innocent. She could be planning some surprise for him, or even arranging to buy him a present. He would certainly appreciate that. He had always liked surprises.

If this was the case, two could play at being sneaky. He bought a small, long life recording device. He hid it in the bathroom where she’d never find it. He would retrieve it late at night and fast-wind to see whether he hit any recordings.

It was on the third night that he got a hit.

She was saying, “Relax. He has no idea.” There was a long pause. She went on. “No problem there, he’s so boringly predictable. He eats and drinks the same things for breakfast, every morning. I’ve taken other precautions as well. He may be dead already!” At this point, he heard her chuckle. She went on again. “We have to be careful, though, I’ve spread the stuff all over the place. The bottle you gave me is just about empty. We’ll need to do a major clean up, before I call for an ambulance. Are you quite sure the stuff you gave me will make it look like a heart attack?” After a pause, “Better go. He’ll be back from the pub soon. I’ll be in touch. Bye.”

He couldn’t believe it! He began thinking about what he might have eaten or drunk during the evening. He was pretty sure there had been nothing, but he knew that he couldn’t be too careful. He crept into the bedroom. She always slept like a log. He opened the wardrobe…

When she woke the next morning, she found that he’d taken all his clothes and his personal stuff. Two suitcases were missing.

She picked up her phone. No need to use the bathroom this time.

“Hi, lover. He’s gone. Worked like a charm on the rotten coward that he is. Come round when you’ve packed. Love you.”

Unknown to others, it always starts the moment he leaves the office.

It begins with turning left or right and using street signs as clues. Most times, he gets it right. He heads for the main street, where he chooses which numbered bus stop to stand at. He goes for a number. It usually pays off, but not every time. The buildings that go by as he sits looking out of the window are familiar, but that is all they are. At the train station, he goes with the crowd. He takes his time, familiarising himself with the layout of platforms, before he decides. The trains that come and go all look much the same, but his selection usually pays off. Now, a different kind of landscape rushes passed. He knows it will take several minutes; an Indeterminate number of minutes. Sometimes, posters along the platform bring brief flashes of recognition. Walking the streets, before finding the one that may be his, can take a while.

He now stands for several minutes, looking across at number ten.

It looks about right, but he can never be completely sure…