Author: Alexander Fawn

She was in bed when she heard the noise.

It sounded like the front door was being forced open. The house had been in complete darkness until a light came on. She lay there thinking. She suspected that the intruder had to be a burglar. Whoever it was, they expected the place to be empty. This would have been the case if she hadn’t decided to cancel her trip away at the last minute. Somehow, the robber must have known about her original intentions. He would also have to have known that her husband was away on business at the same time. She lay thinking about all of this, when she suddenly snapped out of it and made her move.

She quietly got out of bed, slipped on a dressing gown, then went to where she knew her husband kept a gun. Standing across the room from the partly open door, pointing the gun, she waited. When the thief entered the bedroom and switched the light on, the shock of seeing her with the gun pointed directly at him, had him immediately turn and run back through the house.

Racing after him, and shouting a warning that she was within her rights to shoot him, made him run even faster.

Then, out of sheer anger, she aimed carefully and shot him in the leg as he bolted out through the open door. To her amazement, she saw that this only put a wet patch on the burglar’s trouser leg.

This was when she realised, she’d been waving a water pistol around!

Thankfully, the ruffian didn’t notice this.

In his world, a pistol is a pistol, is a pistol.

It was the most dreaded doctor’s appointment she would ever have to attend.

She squirmed a little with pain. She knew she had cancer, that was a given. It had been well documented, medically. There had been tests and scans and all sorts over the previous weeks. She had lost count of the number of times she had gone back and forth. The only positive aspect was that it had been diagnosed. At least it was being looked at. There would be a report ready for her to hear just how bad it really was. She had booked the earliest possible time available. There were so many questions going through her head, but she decided that she would let the doctor read the results first.

She drove into town and arrived early. She sat in the surgery carpark for several minutes, psyching herself up. When she finally went in, the receptionist cordially greeted her and asked her to take a seat. If she knew anything, she wasn’t giving anything away. Moments later she was called.

The first thing she noticed when she sat down was the brown stains around his fingertips, as he shuffled his paperwork, looking for the report. He grunted as he found it and began to read. After turning the first page, he dipped into his pocket and produced a cigarette case. She sat, mesmerised! Opening the case, he took out a cigarette and lit it with a lighter. He went back to reading, taking occasional puffs and blowing smoke at the ceiling. From time to time, he coughed…

She squirmed a little with pain. With a great effort, she climbed out of bed. She slowly and nervously made herself ready to leave.

It was the most dreaded doctor’s appointment she would ever have to attend.

On occasion, my neighbour has a habit of dressing up to improve their sense of wellbeing.

It’s a personal thing. Not everybody accepts their inalienable right to do this. In fact, there have been occasions when members of the public show complete distain for what they see. The costume they most enjoy wearing is the leprechaun outfit that his mother bought him, while acting in a play when he was attending playgroup. The bright green jacket with gold buttons and long coat tails with its black lapels and cuffs, together with the knee-length pants are all particularly striking. The extra tall hat with the shamrock motif sets the whole thing off nicely. It goes without saying that the beard that his mother made for him and the walking stick that his father fashioned out of an old broom handle complete the ensemble.

Unhappily, despite the trouble taken to look jolly in the outfit, people still sneer.–

On the other hand, the fact that he’s pushing forty and still lives with his parents doesn’t help.

–

Monday’s child prefers a Wednesday,

While Tuesday’s child prefers a Friday.

–

Wednesday’s child prefers a Monday,

While Thursdays child prefers a Saturday.

–

Fridays child prefers a Tuesday,

While Saturday’s child prefers a Thursday.

–

And the child that is born on the Sabbath day

Is apparently content with what they have…

–

Go figure!

Every weekday morning, the old man would take a slow walk to the corner shop.

It was a regular thing and good for his constitution. Recently, he had found that walking via the main road with its heavy traffic, was not the best. It was just getting noisier by the day. That is why, on this particular Monday morning, he had decided to take the much quieter back street, despite it being a little longer. This wouldn’t be a problem as he enjoyed the walk. It was a quiet street and one he’d never ventured down before. As he made his way, he noticed that the silence was being broken by children shouting. Getting nearer, he realised it was more like chanting than just shouting.

He heard, “Twenty-one, twenty-one, twenty-one,” being called out, over and over again. It sounded like a couple of youngsters playing some sort of game. Ignoring it, he carried on and the peacefulness of the street slowly returned as he went.

On the Tuesday, much to his surprise, he heard the same young voices calling out, “Twenty-one,” repeatedly. This time, he slowed a little to listen. As far as he could tell, it was a boy and girl chanting together. They were probably around the same age. Maybe twenty-one was a lucky number. Leaving curiosity behind, he continued his journey to the shop.

On the Wednesday, he was even more intrigued to find the same thing happening as he approached the house. He paused near where the sound was coming from and peered through a gap in the fence.

It was probably less than a second between seeing the red, plastic nozzle of the water-pistol and receiving an eye full of water! Standing back, dabbing his face with his hanky, he heard the chant change.

It began, “Twenty-two, twenty-two.”

The old man’s face reddened and looking around to make sure nobody had witnessed the incident, he then walked on without a word.

He was smiling.

Some things never seem to change.

Some things are simply ongoing. From the time homo sapiens came on the scene, certain things could be relied on to just keep on happening. There is the movement of the stars, the rotation of the planets, the seasons, years, months, weeks and days. Of course, there is the sun and the moon, the vast oceans, the changing weather and the reshaping clouds. The breezes and the winds, the rain and the building storms. There are the pandemics and the wars. There is hunger and thirst and famine. There are those that are good and those that are bad.

There is crime and there is infidelity…

There is a man and there is a woman…

There is a gun.

She really had no idea whether he knew or not.

Although she had been extremely careful about visiting her neighbour whenever her regular boyfriend was away on one of his frequent business trips, she wasn’t sure. Anyway, their relationship had been rocky for a while. So, it was no surprise to her that he suggested a ‘healing time’ get-away, as he liked to put it, so they could get things back on track. Spending a few days in Mexico might be fun, she thought. She knew he could afford it. He said it was one of the city capitals he visited for business meetings. He explained that he had travelled there that often that he would show her around. He suggested that they stay in the hotel that he knew from previous trips. She agreed and he made the arrangements.

On arrival, she was impressed with what she saw. The hotel was quite luxurious. The building itself was very tall and some of the upper floors had magnificent views across the city. They had just finished unpacking their luggage in their suite, when he suggested they take in the view from the top of the building. He explained that he’d been told how to get to the rooftop on an earlier visit. It was this suggestion that had her wondering again about how much he knew. She was still unsure.

Coming out of the uppermost elevator floor, he led her up a further flight of steps. They immerged onto a large, flat roof. He suggested they cross to the other side, where he would take a picture of her against the best view of the city.

He was lining up the photo, when, out of nowhere, a scorpion appeared near her feet. Posing for the picture, she hadn’t seen it. He lowered the camera and raised his free hand gradually, in a deliberate gesture, palm out.

“Don’t move,” he said, in a whisper. “Step back slowly, but be careful.” He then pulled the gun out from the belt at the back of his trousers. The sight of this was too much for her.

What happened then, occurred in just a few short seconds

The appearance of the revolver made her jump, lose balance, topple back over the edge and disappear from sight.

She sat patiently flipping through her magazine.

There were so many noises. In the relative quiet of the evening, she could hear the ticking of the kitchen clock. She could hear the noisy whine of her old fridge. She heard the rain being driven against her window. She overheard people chatting, as they walk along the hall, beyond her front door. There was the buzz of the elevator in the building. She could hear a toilet flushing somewhere, music coming from below, a TV show playing in the next apartment, a doorbell being rung in the building, doors closing, water moving through pipes, and the occasional tweeting of birds. She heard a dog barking way off in the night and she could make out the faraway drone of traffic.

Then, she heard the happy jingle of her mobile phone.

Picking it up, she saw his name, and heard the pounding of her elevated pulse…

The hilly terrain made driving tricky.

In truth, he got a kick out of pushing the car to its limit, taking bends faster than he should and almost becoming airborne as he crested the hills. He was comfortable enough doing this as this was a part of the countryside that was rarely used with hardly any traffic. Besides, it was a clear, dry day with good visibility, unlike the recent bad weather. He was making the most of it. Ideal conditions for letting his hair down. In front of him was a long stretch of practically flat road, well before the next hill, ideal for really opening it up. He was watching the speed dial rise when he became aware of the figure on the side of the road. It was some distance away and waving something.

He began to slow, wondering if they needed help, although there was no car, just him and what appeared to be a flag. It was red and he seemed to be waving it. It could be a trick. Someone trying to get him to stop for some reason. He wouldn’t need a flag for that, he thought, he would just need to stick his thumb out. He was obviously some kind of crazy character, out here in the middle of nowhere. He kept slowing and cautiously approached. He had a bad feeling about it. He wasn’t going to stop.

As he crept past, he tried to get a good look at him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing! He was looking at himself. It was some kind of doppelganger. No, this couldn’t be. He had to be mistaken. Perhaps he hadn’t really got a good look at him. Moving on past the figure, he then wondered whether what he was looking at was actually real. Was he imagining it? None of it made sense.

Climbing the next hill, he kept watching what had to be an idiot, still standing there, still waving the flag. He was still checking the nutter in his rear vision mirror, when he came to the top of the hill, only to slam on the brakes! Just a short distance down the slope a huge tree lay across the road. It must have been brought down in the recent storm. He would have to report it. He got out of the car to use his mobile.

Of course, when he looked back, all he saw was a long, empty stretch of road…

It all started when he met this man in a pub.

This man was telling him about a special service that was being provided locally. It was all very hush-hush, and he would have to promise not to tell anybody about it. He told him that people could only visit the place by personal invitation. He said the people who ran the business could not afford to have the nature of it become public knowledge. Of course, running it as a business was all highly illegal. Those that knew about the service had all sorts of reasons for using it, some good, some bad. It was known that criminals used it for nefarious reasons, while others simply wanted to experience otherwise out of reach destinations.

He had gone on to explain how it was a method of having customers visit a selected destination, anywhere in the world. He said that for five hundred dollars, provided you had the precise coordinates, you could be relocated to anywhere on the face of the planet for thirty minutes. He told him that it was also important that you were aware of the actual time it would be when you got there. He explained that it was not time travel, but teleportation!

Well, he was certainly interested. He’d always wanted to revisit the small village where he grew up, even if it was for just a few minutes, but had never been able to afford the air fares. So, it was agreed that if they met up again on the following evening, for five-hundred cash he would receive the address. Again, it was stressed that the matter had to remain strictly confidential. He agreed with the terms.

It was the next day, after having done some careful research on the internet about coordinates, time zones and weather forecasts, so that he knew what time he wanted to arrive and how he should be dressed, that he arrived at the address he’d been given. When he got there, he discovered a large ‘For Sale’ sign at the front of the property. The house looked empty, with a lot of weeds growing all around it.

He was both confused and disappointed at the same time.

It just so happened that he met the man again, although it was in an entirely different pub. It was only by sheer dumb luck that, because he just happened to be in the neighbourhood, on the following evening he went for a drink in a different pub, way over on the other end of town. Although somewhat surprised to see him, the man who had sold him the address was very sorry to hear that the providers had gone out of business. He said he had heard rumours during the day that they had to move on, leaving the empty house that had served as a perfect cover for their unique enterprise.

Asking for why they had to go elsewhere, he was told that the machine they used had developed some sort of glitch. Looking around the pub, he dropped his voice. He went on to say that apparently, and he made it very clear that this should not be passed on, the word on the grapevine was that those that had been teleported had stopped coming back!

On the subject of a refund, it was pointed out that the man he gave the money to was gone, along with the machine. He said, if you think about it, he was extremely lucky that it had happened that way.

On reflection, yes, he had to agree.