Author: Alexander Fawn

She was a keen gardener.

This served to fully occupy her time, after her husband had passed away, but she had a major problem. The dog from next door had got into her garden yet again, undoing all the hard work she had spent on it, digging large holes. She was at her wits end. She had spoken to its owner several times about keeping the animal under control and out of her garden. Each time, he would flatly deny that his beloved dog would do such a thing. Each time, he became more and more angry with her. On this occasion, when she had gone round and spoken to him once again, in the most reasonable manner she could muster, he was positively rude. Not only that, he had used the most disgraceful language! Returning home, she was close to tears.

Little did she know that a solution to the whole nasty business would soon present itself.

It happened a couple of days later. She was in the shed, cleaning up a small watering can when her life took a sudden turn. Without her knowing what she was doing, the can, actually a lamp, began to vibrate. Moments later, a Geni appeared, and after the heartfelt thanks, it granted her three wishes.

That evening, she gave it some serious thought. She could solve the problem of the annoying neighbour without anyone believing that a Geni had appeared in her shed. So, before she went to bed that night, she wished that he was dead.

It was the following morning that the ambulance arrived, along with several other people, coming and going. Meanwhile, she wisely kept a low profile, sitting in her back room, catching up with a number of articles in her gardening magazines.

A few days later the funeral took place and a ‘For Sale’ sign went up next door. The whole affair was now over, and it was on that very night that she used her second wish. Although not yet fifty, she had suffered from joint pain and stiffness for a number of years. She simply wished it would go away, and of course, it did! She slept very well that night.

What came next was a complete surprise. When she woke the next morning, she could here noises coming from the back garden. Going to a window she stood and watched as a dog, not her neighbour’s dog, not the one that she’d been told had been taken to the local pound, but another dog, was digging holes in her garden!

She spent the rest of the morning in a state of confusion and guilt. By the afternoon, having spent so much time trying to come up with a way to put things right, she wondered whether it was possible to undo a wish that had already been made. With this in mind, having picked a selection of flowers from the border at the front of her house, she made her way to the cemetery.

Once there, she knelt down on the lawn in front of the plaque. She carefully placed the flowers beside it and said what she had come to say. In a soft, but intense voice, she said that she wished that she had not wished him dead. Nothing happed! She stayed for a while before getting up and making her way home.

She was not to know that only with the application of the most sensitive ultrasonic, ground-penetrating sound equipment, could anyone hear the frantic scratching!

The man in the suit that waits at the bus stop is not waiting for a bus.

Although he does check the timetable once in a while. The stop is conveniently located across the road from the ally that runs down the length of two high-rise buildings. He peers up and down the busy city street from time to time. Other than that, he keeps his eye on the lane. Occasionally workers come out of the buildings, but his focus is on the side door of the building on the left. He is waiting for a particular man to come out and turn towards the back of the building. Behind the building there is a quiet area where smokers retreat to during the day. One or two people have come out and returned just a few minutes later, but none of them were his man.

He has been there for a couple of hours. He doesn’t mind the wait. The man he works for pays well. Unlike his boss, he is a virtually unknown figure in the city’s underworld. He undertakes all manner of chores. Most of them require a good deal of patience. This was something he was good at.

Finally, across the way, an older man with grey hair, also wearing a suit, finally emerges from the said door.

The man at the stop crosses the road as the other turns and walks the length of the building and disappears around the back. Following, he takes the same route and slowly turns the corner of the building. Doing so, he taps his jacket pockets and curses under his breath. Asking for a light, the older man clicks his lighter. Having lit his cigarette, the younger man thanks him and moves a discreet distance away. He takes out his phone and starts tapping the screen.

After a few minutes, as the older man moves to stub his cigarette out in the metal tray provided, the other moves closer, but waits until he is alone. He locates the still warm filter tip and flicks away the surrounding stubs with his finger.

Taking a small plastic bag from his pocket, he turns it inside out and uses it to pick up what he came for. The boss will be pleased. Easy money, he thinks.

It’s all about the DNA.

The astronaut sat looking out at the blackness of space.

It had been several hours since receiving, what appeared to be, the very last message from Earth. It had been the last communication because the planet no longer supported life forms; was no longer inhabited. It was the death nell for what had remained of a dying planet. For a number of years, it had been obvious that the self-destruction was coming to a head. His mission had never been fully clear to him, but his life in the space service had him simply obey orders. Now, knowing that the unlikely possibility of him managing to return safely to the launch area, would be pointless. The last signal had announced the end; the end of everything. He would be returning to a dead and silent planet.

There’d be no hustle and bustle of busy streets, no noisy traffic or sounds being made by industry. Despite all he knew, the reality of this came crashing in on him as he wriggled in his seat and lent forward to peer out into the vast emptiness that had absolutely nothing to offer him.

Although, now just a piece of redundant cockpit equipment, the speaker began to crackle. Without thinking, he tinkered with the controls.

He was doing this, when he heard, “Hello. Hello. Can you hear me?”

Autumn leaves,

Springtime breezes,

Summer heats,

And Winter Freezes.

–

A sparkling moon.

A frost that’s bitter.

Whistling winds,

And leaves that litter.

–

Times for withering,

Times for growing.

Times when summer sun is blazing,

Times when winter skies are snowing.

–

Buds and blossoms, seeds and needles,

Clouds that change with every sky.

Nights longer or shorter dark.

Days humid, wet or dry.

–

Such diversity throughout the year,

Even ancients knew the reason.

But each time is in its place,

Complementary to the season.

–

Autumn leaves,

Springtime breezes,

Summer heats,

And Winter Freezes.

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…