Author: Alexander Fawn

The multi-storey hotel stands in the middle of a bustling city.
The watchers at the window on the eighth floor look down onto a large multi lane crossroad. All manner of vehicles and pedestrians move around the scene, all controlled by never-ending lights. Ahead of this and beyond, a busy cityscape beckons. For these watchers, after breakfast, the day begins. Out onto the pavement and the heat and humidity of the morning, across the road and up the steps beside a neighbouring building. A long stroll along the building’s side, with its small shop fronts on one side and a long row of chairs and tables set up on the other. At the far corner, a short walk to the steps that lead to a station. Down one elevator, then another. Finally, deep underground, a great concourse, with its many lines and destinations.
The city above beckons, again.

The man was going to cause trouble if she didn’t act quickly to head it off.
She had become fond of him, but his overhearing the conversation between the two brothers just before the robbery took place, meant that he had to go. She sat thinking for a long time about how to get rid of him. Careful thought had to go into coming up with a simple plan. Something that would not arouse any suspicions. A straightforward car accident would be one way; a simple way. Unless any better ideas came up, she would work something out using the car accident approach. The fact that he had a history of dangerous driving would give credence to the idea. The more she thought about it, the more she liked it.

With a new sense of direction she returned to her laptop and the story.

It all began several centuries ago.
All of the greatest world sporting events were being eaten away by increasing levels of bad behaviour. There was a great deal of cheating going on and the club managers and all the various types of sports authorities and controlling bodies were allowing it to happen. This applied to any kind of athletic activity requiring a certain skill or physical competence of a competitive nature, such as football, polo, baseball, golf, boxing, wrestling, tennis, racing, bowling, hunting, shooting and fishing; the list goes on. It seemed to be the case that as long as money was being made the competitors could carry on with any unsportsmanlike conduct of their choosing, as though it was being sanctioned by their paymasters, without bringing either the players or their masters into disrepute.
At first it was only the purists that didn’t like ball tampering and on-field sledging, etc., but as time went on it became apparent that this small percentage of supporters was gaining a voice. Looking back, it must have taken decades before attitudes changed and there were stronger and more effective calls for the principle of good sportsmanship to return globally to the world of sport. When the Fairness in Sport Commission was first created, little did anyone know just how far it would go. This became apparent when strict penalties for cheating and the like were brought in to curb unwanted behaviour. The most severe being a lifetime ban from ever participating in the relevant sport again.

This gave birth to the Bad Sport movement. At the time this only applied to a handful of disgraced athletes, ball team players, yacht crew members, alpine sport players, their various coaches and medics and referees and so on. It was initially a small number across a vast spectrum of every kind of competitive sport. However, as these numbers grew, and they certainly grew, the Bad Sport movement was fully formed. With this newly formed kind of sport-come-entertainment approach, promoting as much bad behaviour as possible, came the audiences that appreciated the genre. Over a century or so, the popularity of Bad Sport rose to a point where it became the only form of sport that drew the crowds.
Of course, there are rules, but they are very broad. Most people that watch sport now are, in the main, simply waiting to see them broken.
It is hard to look back and imagine what sport was like way back then.
For many, it must have been really boring.

He didn’t need much in the way of incentive to travel into the future.
He’d been working on the machine in his basement for several years. The state that mankind had allowed the planet to fall into was encouragement enough to maintain the long hours he spent developing the technology. As a scientist, he considered it only a matter of time before time travel was possible. Up above, the atmosphere was deteriorating at an alarming rate. Pollution seemed to be prevalent across all continents and the planet was definitely warming. He felt he was giving himself the chance to be part of a brighter future. When the time came, he decided that going forward a hundred years should provide him with what he was seeking.

He climbed into his capsule and carefully set the required digital status on the tiny dashboard. When he was satisfied with the settings, he activated the machine. When the buzzing finally stopped, he climbed out. He was no longer in his old basement, but in what seemed to be a platform that was part of an underground transit system. People began milling around, obviously fascinated with the sudden appearance of his capsule. He clicked the central locking device and doing his best to avoid dozens of questions, made his way up to the surface. When he emerged onto the street, it was a very bright, beautiful day. There could be no doubt that he had achieved his goal.
He could see he was in the same city, but there were so many changes he was disorientated. He needed to contact people in the science community to discuss what he had done. He began questioning people. Finally, a man was able to tell him where he could find the city’s science institute. The head of what was called the future development program, an elderly professor, had to be encouraged to return to the capsule before he was willing to take the time traveller seriously. After a great deal of discussion, they returned to the institute. It was while making their way back that the professor made the traveller aware for the first time that a great dome covered the city.
Back in his office, the professor explained that the number of Earth’s inhabitants had been drastically reduced owing to the atmosphere being unbreathable and the temperature outside of the dome so high that almost all life forms were unsustainable. He went on to explain that he had a team of the world’s top scientists working on their own machine.
When the traveller asked how far into the future he proposed to go, the professor pointed out that their work was very difficult, because they were trying to go back!

The man was in the changing room, running late as usual.
The game was over and he was the last player to shower and change. It was late and everybody had gone home. Then, sitting on one of the benches, he got carried away checking all his text messages, especially dealing with a long one from his uncle. That’s why he was surprised to hear someone coming in. He couldn’t imagine who it could be, so he instinctively ducked into a stall and left a crack in the door. He watched as the stranger tentatively made his way to one of the basins, and after searching around found the tap and turned it on. He obviously had poor eyesight. The watcher didn’t recognise him at all. He would have remembered seeing him before. The man was a strange-looking character, there was no doubt about that.
He was quite tiny and was wearing a peculiar looking tracksuit, so only his hands and face were visible. There seemed to be a pale green tinge to his skin, as though he had some sort of rare medical condition. He appeared to be washing his hands. From his hiding place he could see the man’s face reflected in the mirror. He was definitely ugly. He, or it, had no hair, just a large greenish dome. Its eyes were huge, being at least twice the normal size. It didn’t seem to have eyelashes or eyelids. It was hard enough looking at the creature, but what came next would stay with him for the rest of his days.
Fumbling about, the thing manage to turn the tap on full. It turned down the roll neck part of his upper suit. Some kind of metal neck collar could be seen. With skinny looking fingers it seemed to be massaging its neck, but it wasn’t. With a sudden jerking movement, the head rotated slightly and came off! The thing proceeded to hold it under the tap, turning it around. It was washing its head! As he watched in disbelief, the creature peeled a thick washer off from the opening of the neck and scrubbed it under the tap. This was replaced, and so was the head. It snapped back into place with a slight twist. Then, still looking as though it was half blind, the thing turned and stumbled its way out.
Still in a complete state of shock he followed it out, and sitting on an outside bench, he watched as the thing entered a small porthole on the side of an enormous flying saucer that almost filled the rugby field. The aperture closed and within seconds the craft began to rise in complete silence. It moved slowly up at first, then with a barely audible swish, disappeared into the night sky.

He tumbled off the bench. Hitting the tiled floor of the changing room shook him awake. He looked around, thinking that he really should get more sleep. What he had just seen was still vividly buzzing around in his head. Although he couldn’t be sure, the fact that his uncle was going to help him fit a new head gasket on his car tomorrow just might have something to do with it.

She was looking out of the window, sipping coffee, watching the fog drift by.
Her phone buzzed; she picked it up.
Him: Do you expect to be home late?
Her: Not if I can get the Bamford contract signed off by the boss. You?
Him: No. Forgot to ask, is Friday still on?
Her: Don’t know, I’ll ask her lunchtime.
Him: I may get a chance to come by for lunch today.
Her: Oh! Really?
Him: Yep. Have papers to drop off during morning.
Her: Canteen or go out?
Him: Depends how much time I have.
Her: Let me know later.
Him: Sure. Later then.
Her: OK. I’ll have to…
She never saw the truck.

There is so much that is unseen,
Where concealment is in play.
Not knowing where to look;
All that is hidden, stays that way.
–
Things that remain obscure,
Inside a story or a word,
Hidden in a subtle change,
Or something never heard.
–
Hiding in a thought,
A gesture or a smile,
A simple case of absence,
Or through another’s guile.
–
By lack of light or camouflage,
An idea destroyed,
Or buried deep within a heart,
With iniquity employed.
–
Lost in a memory,
An embrace or a touch.
The fact that some things can’t be found,
Is ineffable, as such.
–
So many things are out of view,
And no searching will this allay.
There comes a trite acceptance,
That things that are truly hidden,
Tend to stay that way.

He had met her during a week at the country health farm resort.
Quite apart from the fact that she was an attractive woman, it was a delight to sit chatting with her about health issues and how people should really take care of their bodies. He found her descriptions of the human body being a temple, with the occasional reference to Paul the apostle and what he had said in Corinthians about it, quite exhilarating. For him, the week had passed a lot quicker than it would have without her regular company and the routine of the place was made far more tolerable for the same reason. In short, they hit it off, and both agreed that they meet up in the world outside when the course was over. In fact, the excitement regarding this idea that they should get together was heightened when, on the final day, she suggested that he visit her in her apartment for dinner one evening the following week. A date and time were set.
On the night, she set about cooking a meal well ahead of time. She would make a real effort to provide a meal that he would never forget. She enjoyed cooking and had made sure she had all the required ingredients on hand when she started to cook. She had made a concerted effort to ensure she had really fresh cauliflower, artichokes, broccoli, zucchini, and asparagus, together with her favourites, bok choy and spinach.

On the night, arriving at her apartment block with feelings of excitement and anticipation he entered the lobby and found an elevator. The instant he came out of the lift at her floor, misty vapours filled the air. The fragrance of a mixture of steamed leafy greens wafted through the long hallway. The bouquet of it grew stronger as he made his way, looking for her number. In truth, when he reached her door, the smell was almost overpowering!
Seeing a set of lift doors at the other end of the hall, he held his breath… and kept walking.

The old man at number eighty-six was dying.
Not that anyone knew that. His neighbour had known that he was sick, a while back, when he last visited. There were no known relatives and most of those that lived in the street were aware of that. The next-door neighbour thought he should call in. At the door, he elderly man reluctantly let him in. They sat in the lounge room and spoke for a while before the neighbour asked seriously how the other was doing. He admitted that the doctor hadn’t given him long. As a result of their conversation it became clear that to pass away peacefully on his own would be what he would prefer.

It was established that he didn’t need a doctor because that had all been done and there was no point. It also became clear that there was no need for a visit to the hospital, as there was nothing they could do for him now. He explained that he didn’t need any help with anything. He was up to getting out from time to time to do a little shopping. There was nothing he needed; nothing his neighbour could do for him. He thanked him for thinking of him.
When he returned to his home, he thought about what he had learnt from the visit. The man was terminally ill and dying, it was as simple as that. He felt undecided about what to do, but there was obviously nothing he could do. Nothing that the old man would want him to do. There was no simple answer, no solution. It was what it was, and he had to accept the man’s wishes to be left alone and he found that the acceptance of that, was such a surprisingly hard thing to do.

Nobody noticed the man standing in the shadows.
The bustling market was noisy with traders arguing and discussing the price of their goods with potential customers. That… thought the tall figure, dressed in a white robe, with long hair and a beard, that hasn’t changed. He took in the odours that were wafting up from the stalls, carried by a hot desert wind. He closed his eyes and lifted his chin, with spice dust and fine sand blowing across his face, he remembered. He remembered his time teaching. He remembered his journeys, spreading the word, walking great distances with his followers.
But this, this time… it’s not the same. The dress is different, and the soldiers in uniforms, patrolling in pairs, guarding the place and the people. They carry guns, machine guns. What has happened here?

A voice came to him, whispering, come away, son. His father’s voice,
Nobody noticed that the man in the shadows was no longer there.