Author: Alexander Fawn

It happened again!

How often must I ask him not to do that, he thought? Time and time again I’ve broached the subject with him, very politely, not wanting to cause a problem. I would have thought, with him being a neighbour, he’d realise that he was risking upsetting other residents up and down the street; not just me, who just happens to live next door! It’s always the same, just before my alarm clock goes off. One could be forgiven for wondering whether the man was doing it on purpose.

In bed now, as he is slowly drifting towards sleep, the inevitable thought comes crashing in on him.

The whole ghastly thing is going to happen again tomorrow!

His father used to say, time heals all.

He was right, of course, but sometimes the process can be slow. Looking back, it had taken several months for him to get over his loss. For him, the embarrassment of having his wife leave him was probably the worst part. He’d returned from a short business trip, only to find the house empty. Some of her clothes, a small suitcase and her passport were the only things missing. Naturally, at the time he had reported her missing to the police. The rumour was that she’d been seen entering the Queensway underground station in London on the day of her disappearance, but nothing came of it.

The very nice woman he met in his local library, who knew about his loss, had showed much-needed understanding at that time. In fact, this relationship blossomed and they married a year later. This new life was just what he needed. He was able to return to his work with renewed vigour and his company, involved mainly in the design of underground carparks, was glad to have him back on board.

Now, several years later, his life with his second wife and their precious children was everything that he could ever hope for. His work, travelling around the country consulting with major building companies, had gone from strength to strength. He had taken on a more senior role with the company that involved an annual conference in London.

It was during this yearly event that he took the opportunity to make brief, unscheduled visits to a special place. It was a private occurrence known only to him. It was something special for him. He would make his way to Epping Forest, a vast area of ancient woodland, less than an hour from the city. There, he would find his usual spot where he would pull off the road and park.

From there he would take the five-minute walk into a remote part of the forest. Over the years he had learnt the route by heart. Here, he came to the configuration of three great oak trees that formed an almost perfect triangle. At a point in the centre of this he would stand and silently recall.

For just a few brief moments he would immerse himself in the satisfying significance of that very special spot…

He was wealthy enough to have his own personal Augurer.

He was a man very much in control of his business interests as well as his personal affairs. As a result, the Augurer worked exclusively for him and was on a very lucrative retainer. He was someone who was able to foretell the future through the interpretation of signs and omens. When first employed, he recorded all the man’s details and they agreed to attend monthly appointments at the man’s home, at which time the Augurer would provide updates on what to know about any upcoming events during the coming weeks. This mutual arrangement had worked well for a number of years.

This had been the case until the morning the wealthy man received a call on his private line from the Augurer. Although he was not due to visit for more than two weeks, he insisted on calling in on him, no later than that same day, on a matter of great urgency.

Naturally, the man agreed to him coming to see him straight away.

When the Augurer arrived, he appeared to be very distraught. After being seated in the man’s study, he said, “I’m afraid I’ve come with some very grave news!”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Do tell.”

“I have foreseen your death.”

“You have?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow evening.”

The man opened his desk diary. “At what time?”

“Seven o’clock, or to be more precise 6:42pm.”

“Ah! I should be arriving at the Opera House around then. What happens?”

The signs tell me that you are in the back of a large, black car, when it is struck by another car coming out from a side street. I see that the other car is travelling at great speed.”

“I see. That would be shortly before my chauffeur would be dropping me off at the venue.” He sat back in his chair. “That is a pity. That particular opera is not performed very often.” He made a note in his diary and closed it, with a sigh.

He looked up at the Augurer with a smile. “Never mind, thank you so much for that,” he said, “I’ll get a copy of the performance online.”

To say that they were doing this ‘on the quiet’ would be a gross understatement. It was a group of five. A single Project Manager and a team of four carefully selected and well-paid people, chosen for their individual skills. They each came from different trades and professional disciplines. Their combined purpose was to build a very special ATM. The aim was to build a machine that was designed to immediately identify a person presenting a card that was not their own. This particular automated teller machine, dubbed ATMX, after the name of the project, was being very well funded. It was quite remarkable that the financing of it could never be traced back to the banking industry, but there were suspicions. Probably, what is far more relevant is the fact that the group’s leader had suffered a great deal of trouble and personal inconvenience with regards to a banking transaction, using such a machine. As a result of this, he made sure that his ulterior motive remained hidden.

When the ATMX was completed, as arranged, it was fitted as a replacement for an existing machine. The location was carefully chosen because it saw a high volume of users. This was necessary because the special features that had been built into it would not be activated until somebody attempted to use a card not issued to them. It was reasonable to think that after the screened-off and overnight installation had been done, there could be a long wait to see the ATMX spring into action.

Meanwhile, the young man who lived in the area, had a job delivering groceries to elderly people. It was a charitable organisation that had hired him to make such deliveries to those not able to get out to do their own shopping. It was while dropping off one such item, that he saw and took the owner’s credit card.

After a week or two, the miscreant approached the machine. Looking around to make sure he wasn’t seen, he pushed the card in.

What happened next, took him completely by surprise. Inside the machine the card was cross cut shredded and tiny fragments of the card were sprayed out through the receipt slot. The camera flashed several times and a small nozzle, with a pilot light below its end, shot out from a hole above the screen. This was immediately followed by a voice, saying, “To avoid unnecessary pain, don’t move!” Finally, a loud alarm began to blare.

At the same time all this was happening, another alarm was set off in the local police station. As a consequence of this, a police constable was on the scene in less than two minutes. Arriving, he found the card user standing extremely still and at the same time completely petrified.

Although, in some respects, the project was deemed to be a success, the entire incident was made to go away by the quick removal of the ATMX and the replacement of the original. This was managed before the press got wind of it. It was generally considered to have been something of an overkill.

Those unseen originators of the project were disappointed.

They began working on another plan, this time ensuring a milder approach.

In a secret laboratory the small group of specialists worked on the machine.

To say that they were doing this ‘on the quiet’ would be a gross understatement. It was a group of five. A single Project Manager and a team of four carefully selected and well-paid people, chosen for their individual skills. They each came from different trades and professional disciplines. Their combined purpose was to build a very special ATM. The aim was to build a machine that was designed to immediately identify a person presenting a card that was not their own. This particular automated teller machine, dubbed ATMX, after the name of the project, was being very well funded. It was quite remarkable that the financing of it could never be traced back to the banking industry, but there were suspicions. Probably, what is far more relevant is the fact that the group’s leader had suffered a great deal of trouble and personal inconvenience with regards to a banking transaction, using such a machine. As a result of this, he made sure that his ulterior motive remained hidden.

When the ATMX was completed, as arranged, it was fitted as a replacement for an existing machine. The location was carefully chosen because it saw a high volume of users. This was necessary because the special features that had been built into it would not be activated until somebody attempted to use a card not issued to them. It was reasonable to think that after the screened-off and overnight installation had been done, there could be a long wait to see the ATMX spring into action.

Meanwhile, the young man who lived in the area, had a job delivering groceries to elderly people. It was a charitable organisation that had hired him to make such deliveries to those not able to get out to do their own shopping. It was while dropping off one such item, that he saw and took the owner’s credit card.

After a week or two, the miscreant approached the machine. Looking around to make sure he wasn’t seen, he pushed the card in.

What happened next, took him completely by surprise. Inside the machine the card was cross cut shredded and tiny fragments of the card were sprayed out through the receipt slot. The camera flashed several times and a small nozzle, with a pilot light below its end, shot out from a hole above the screen. This was immediately followed by a voice, saying, “To avoid unnecessary pain, don’t move!” Finally, a loud alarm began to blare.

At the same time all this was happening, another alarm was set off in the local police station. As a consequence of this, a police constable was on the scene in less than two minutes. Arriving, he found the card user standing extremely still and at the same time completely petrified.

Although, in some respects, the project was deemed to be a success, the entire incident was made to go away by the quick removal of the ATMX and the replacement of the original. This was managed before the press got wind of it. It was generally considered to have been something of an overkill.

Those unseen originators of the project were disappointed.

They began working on another plan, this time ensuring a milder approach.

He sat looking at his lottery ticket.

The shopping centre was busy. He was sitting on a bench seat provided by the centre, looking back at the kiosk where he’d bought the ticket. He really needed to win; preferably something big. He had no money coming in and his situation was dire. Before long, being able to buy food would be a problem. He was thinking about how his life had gone so far down, when his thoughts were interrupted by the stranger sitting next to him, nudging him with his elbow. Startled by this, he turned to find an old dwarfish-looking man dressed in black and sporting a long beard staring at him with a twinkle in his eye.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he begins.

“You do?”

“Oh! Yes. No doubt about it. You’re hoping that the ticket you’re holding will bring you longed-for riches.”

“Well, putting it like that, I suppose you’re right.”

“What you need is a bit of luck. Am I right?”

Taking a small packet out of his pocket, the dwarf said, “You need to pick a lucky card,” and removed the cellophane from a new pack of cards. Opening it up, he began to shuffle them.

“You mean, I have to pick a card that will bring me the luck I need?”

“More or less, yes; but there are no guarantees.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “The cards will decide whether you are worthy. Would you like to try?”

The man with the ticket, looked around. He wasn’t sure why this strange encounter was happening, but he wasn’t going to say no to the chance of turning his life around. Looking back at the odd little man, he nodded.

“Good choice,” whispered the other, and fanned out the cards. “Pick one,” he said, but don’t show me, just memorise it,”

He pulled out the six of diamonds.

Holding out half of the pack and looking away, he said, “Now, put it back.”

He did this, saying “OK.”

The dwarf looked back and putting the pack back together, he began to shuffle.

The man sat thinking about the card.

After a long shuffle, the dwarf split the pack in half and took off the top card. He held up the two of clubs.

“Is this your card?” he asked.

“No,” said the other, with a frown.

Then, it must be in your pocket,” the little man said.

Frowning again, he searched his pockets. To his amazement, he felt a card!

“How did you do that?” He blurted.

Without answering, the other said, “Is that your card?”

Looking at it, he saw that it was the nine of spades.

“No!” he said.

Gaping at it, he felt a slight movement. Looking up, he realised he was again sitting alone.

He looked back down at his ticket and began to sob.

She had known for some time that it was not tenpin bowling that he goes to twice a week.

However, it did take the expensive services of a private detective to track down the other woman’s address. Then, to be absolutely sure, she followed up on the detective’s report by sitting in her car further up the street for two nights to bear witness. Sure enough, she watched him come and go. It was clearly him, as he arrived beneath the porch light, ringing the door bell and looking around while he waited to be let in.

For reasons best known to her, she had no intention of making what she had found out known to him. Her only aim was to make it stop. She wanted to bring about a return to status quo.

The whole nasty business was brought to an end the night she quietly left the house at two in the morning. The fact that he was a heavy sleeper worked to her advantage. She managed to leave and return without him being aware of it.

Dressed in dark clothing, it took no more than a couple of minutes to get the thing sorted. She removed the porch globe and replaced it with one that was both red and had a liberal coating of super glue gel around its metal fitting.

–

From that point, it was only a matter of time…

He dreamt about taking out the cup.

With the Snail Racing World Championships due to take place in his village only a few days away, the excitement was building. The race takes place annually. The cup itself, being the prize that goes to the winner, is actually a tankard of lettuce. Whereas, many may see the whole thing in a totally frivolous light, there were those who took it all quite seriously. The young boy in question was one of them. Trials had been running for several weeks, with temporary tracks set up. Many human contenders felt sure that they had the winner.

The race track itself consists of a damp cloth laid on a flat tabletop. On this, there’s a circular perimeter with a radius of thirteen inches. The snails, two or more, with numbers on their shells, start from the central point. Regardless of which direction they take, it is a case of which contestant reaches the perimeter first.

As for the boy; he knew that his chances of taking out the top prize were remote.

His biggest drawback being that he didn’t have a snail…

He returned late from a night out in town.

He had really enjoyed the evening with his friends, but by the time he got home he realized just how exhausted he was. He could hardly wait to climb into bed. He was getting undressed when it happened. Something fell out of his pocket. Picking it up, he saw that it was a fortune cookie. He couldn’t understand it. It was more than a year since he last visited a Chinese restaurant. This couldn’t have been in his trouser pocket all that time! That made no sense at all; it just wasn’t possible. He sat on the edge of the bed and snapped it open. He found the little paper message inside and opened it up. In large, red letters, it said, THE BELL BRINGS DANGER.

He sat, trying to figure out what this might mean.

He jumped, when his doorbell rang…

It was late afternoon and she was preparing to cook something special for tea that night.

It was her habit to layout each measured ingredient in pots across the kitchen counter. The truth of it was that she was enjoying herself. She was in the process of grating cheese when the doorbell chimes sounded. She sighed. She really didn’t want to stop what she was doing. She certainly wasn’t expecting anybody. Maybe they’ll go away if I ignore it, she thought, and carried on. Moments later, it chimed again. This time it was a double chime. They must have pressed the button twice! She had to admit; it could be important. She washed her hands and walked to the door deliberately making a show of drying them on the towel as she went. She moved quietly to the peephole. The face she saw looked slightly familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

She opened the door to find a man wearing a scruffy suit, holding a clipboard and waving a leaflet. She didn’t get a chance to say anything before he launched off with his prepared spiel about how he could show her how to change her life for the better by heeding the words coming from the scriptures. This was followed immediately by one quotation after another from the good book.

It was during one of these that she interrupted him. “Excuse me, but haven’t you called here before?”

He looked sheepish and said, “No. I don’t think so.”

She paused for a moment to wonder. He took advantage of this to keep going. As he went on about the benefits that can be gained, and so on, she was sure he had been round before. She wasn’t sure how many times she’d found him standing on her doorstep, but he’d certainly been standing there before. She was thinking how he was easily the most annoying God-botherer she’d ever come across. Her annoyance was growing, but she hid it when she interrupted him again.

“Please, I just have to see to something in the kitchen.”

He looked quite put out as she pushed the door to.

She considered the fact that as a religious person, he really shouldn’t lie. She hadn’t been gone long when she returned, and before he could speak, she asked, “Are you sure you haven’t been here before?”

He pouted, nodding his head. He said, “It’ll only take a moment to explain the statistics that are provided at the bottom of the leaflet.”

At that point she raised both her eyebrow and right arm at the same time.

The effect was surprisingly effective. He turned instantly and hurried out into the street.

Back in the house, closing the drawer, she thought about how powerful a simple gesture could be.

There again, on the other hand, it was probably the gun that did it!

He had been home from school awhile and was engrossed in a large illustrated book.

He was in his room, lying on his bed, immersed in a world atlas. He had a geography class tomorrow. It was one of his favourite subjects. His mother was in the kitchen getting tea. His father would be home from work shortly. His grandfather, now living with them, was in the living room reading the paper. Feeling bored, he threw down the paper and clambered up out of the armchair. Moments later, he unexpectedly went into the boy’s room, where he found his grandson looking through the book. The old man sat down on the edge of the bed. Peering at the open page, he pointed to a shipping canal.

“We three brothers dug that out for them,” he said, with a great deal of pride.

“Really?”

“Yes. Me, your uncle Tim and uncle Rob; a joint effort that was.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh yes. A major project that was, I can tell you. Took the best part of a year, that did.”

The old man stood up abruptly, nodded seriously and left the room. Returning to his chair, he picked the paper up and went back to his reading.

The boy sighed and went through to the kitchen.

“Mum,” he started, “Grandad’s telling lies again.”

“I know, dear. I wouldn’t worry about it.” She smiled. “It’s just a foible.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a sort of flaw in his nature.”

“Still, he shouldn’t lie like that, should he?”

“No. You’re right, he shouldn’t.”

“I’ll ask dad what he thinks, when he gets home.”

“Probably not a good idea, pet.”

“Why not?”

“He suffers from the same thing!”