STOP

Joshua was worried and he didn’t like the feeling. He was normally a very calm and stable sort of person, always aware of what was going on and what was expected of him, but not today.

            Everything had been fine until he got on the bus to go home; he’d sat down next to a little old lady when it happened. He would normally introduce himself to his seat partner, something he’d done now for almost all his life, as he hated the thought of not talking, of missing the opportunity to meet someone new and make his life more interesting.

            She turned to say something back and stopped, not just gone back to looking out of the window or reading the magazine, but actually stopped, frozen mid conversation. Joshua had politely waited for a moment, in case it was a medical condition she suffered from, before he’d spoken again.

            It was then he noticed everyone else had stopped, the bus had stopped, even a bird flying past the window outside had stopped in mid air. He reached passed the lady and tapped the window, hoping that the bird would startle and move again, but it didn’t, so after a moment or two he picked up his bag and made his way downstairs.

            The first problem he had was getting passed the woman with the shopping, she stood in the aisle before the exit and Joshua had to bend and squeeze himself under her arm in order to get to the door, and what little of her he did touch felt solid and cold but he was eventually through and pulling the door open before climbing down onto the road outside, before closing the door again behind him.

            He judged it was a good three miles to his home, but at least there would be enough light to see by and as he walked he marvelled at the frozen world, all those people stopped in mid heartbeat and the silence was terrifying.

            There where people arguing, their faces contorted and frozen in anger, others laughing, but the majority seemed to look sad, they walked down the road with their eyes on the floor, not even aware of the people they passed, the people that could have affected their lives for the better, and it made Joshua feel sad for them to have missed the opportunity.

            The world was filled with so much beauty, so much wonder if only people would take the time to look. All it would take was each person to stop and do something different, to stop following the normal route of their lives, to just realise that they have but one life to live and to waste it would be a shame.

            He stopped about a mile from home and put his bags down on the floor before crossing the road. On the other side he could see a young boy frozen between two cars, he was just about to step out into the path of a bus that he was to busy to see.

            With considerable effort Joshua managed to turn the lad slightly so he would walk into the stationary car, giving him a bruised knee was better that the other option anyway, Joshua reasoned, and you never know, that kid could invent something wonderful now and change the world, now that he would remain in it.

            The little things, they were all Joshua lived for, those little things that everyone else missed, and even now in this frozen landscape, he could still see the beauty around him, more so even. He always took time for things like this, and he found himself actually enjoying the experience.

            He enjoyed the bigger picture view as well, it wasn’t just the little things but the effect they had on others, the domino effect almost. He stopped to move a bird from under the claws of a cat that had managed to move up on it, he’d even stopped a mans car keys from falling down a drain, and for the hell of it, he swapped the coin half way into a coin toss, wishing he could see the child’s face as his 10p turned into a pound.

            Once home, he threw his bag onto the sofa before walking over the grandfather clock that stood in pride of place in the middle of the room. He chastised himself for forgetting to reset the weights, but smiled as the clock ticked again and the world continued outside, but in the end though, at least no one would know if he forgot.

THE STORM

Back in the day, he’d never have thought about walking to the shops, walking was boring, no, he would have run. He could remember the wind whipping through his hair, the sound of the air against his ears as he picked up speed, the sheer joy of running.

Now, he walked, he walked not because he wanted to, but more because he had to. Since Sarah had passed the world had lost its sparkle, lost its brightness somehow, each day just seemed to be like the last, one continuous treadmill taking him closer and closer to his own, eventual death and his eventual meeting with his wife.

He looked up at the clouds that formed above him, he knew now that he should have stayed at home, that he should have resigned himself to an evening without tobacco, but, with so little left in his life, his routine became everything, and if he didn’t go, then he might as well just give up altogether, and Sarah wouldn’t want that.

Forty years ago this would have been a five minute walk, and he felt such a fool for kidding himself that he could still do it. Each step was a struggle for him now, not only for his legs, but his chest also, and he wheezed as he tried to speed up. The leaves started to dance on the floor before him, caught by the energy of the coming storm, and they twisted and jumped before him in mockery for his age.

Even the birds had stopped singing in fear of the approaching storm, though it took him a moment to realise as his hearing aid wasn’t working very well today, the poor woman in the shop had to repeat the cost of his items three times, and in the end, he’d just held his shaking hand out and she’d taken the right amount, thankfully, no one had seen the tear of defeat running down his cheek as he left.

The first drops of rain hit his face and re realised he’s made a huge mistake in coming out, but it was his routine, it was all he had left. The thunder rolled as he started his slow walk home, his stick holding his steady against the winds, it was his routine, and he’d had nothing if he didn’t try.

ADRIFT

The waves slowly rocked the boat, lulling Michael slowly back to sleep. He didn’t know how long he’d been floating now, from his position the sky looked the same, and one moment merged quickly into another.

His lips felt dry and he tenderly licked his lips, trying to moisten them with what little liquid his tongue could spare. It almost hurt to swallow now, and as the sun beat down on him, his thoughts turned to easier times, to drinking with friends and to food, and he hated himself for doing it. All he could see now was burgers and hotdogs, as his thoughts turned to the BBQ’s of last year, of eating in the garden with friends, of laughter, or joy and he punched the side of the boat.

This old thing had become his home, his refuge, its deep sides allowed him to lie flat and avoid the worst of the winds, but with no hiding place from the sun, lethargy had taken over quickly, draining the energy from his arms. The oars lay across the boat above him and he reached up to touch them. They felt warm, but oddly comforting despite the heat above.

Trying to occupy his mind, he picked at the flaking paint on the side of the boat, finding some simple pleasure in it, as he whittled away at the white sides as his nails pulled at the edges. The boat rocked and he rolled slightly in his position, if his attention had been higher, he might have wondered what had caused it, but after what felt like a lifetime adrift, he failed to care.

It was a moment later when he hit land, feeling the solid thud of stone against the outside of the boat, using what little strength he had left, he pulled himself up on the oars and looked over the side. A small island lay before him, lush green grass and the thought of possible food woke his mind, to feel solid ground below his feet was his primary thought and he started to clamber over the sides.


“Boat Number 24, Please remain inside the boat at all times.” A voice called loudly from the other shore. “And to be honest son, you might have more fun if you actually tried to row.”

THE MACHINE

With a satisfying click, the last piece of the machine slipped smoothly into place, and John stood back with some level of satisfaction as he surveyed his work. It was hard to believe that he'd finally got to this point, to finally seeing his creation in reality and he felt a wave of peace and joy wash over him.

Since the idea came to him almost two years ago, he’d been unable to shake it from his head. At the start he’d thought he had gone mad, but the more he studied, the more he researched the idea, the process and the underlying principles the more he’d realised the pure genius and simplicity of the design.

The odd person he’d contacted about his idea had scoffed at him, laughing at the absurdity that some normal person could crack the puzzle. That an uneducated individual without the experience and knowledge only gained through decades of research could dream something so, well, so basic that could resolve the problems of the world in one go.

At first he’d been upset at the rejections, but as time passed and the idea continued to work in his dreams, he realised that divine intervention must had been behind it, and who was he to stop the idea of God, how was anyone able to question the idea’s of the almighty?

It hadn’t been easy, but neither, he reasoned, had building the Arc, but Noah hadn’t quit so John hadn’t either, when his wife left him, he failed to notice for three days, and he only noticed then because the washing basket was full and there was no more space in the sink.

The fact she’d left release him from the normal relationship wastes of time, allowing him to focus 100% on the project and although he felt weak from lack of food, and smelt slightly wiffy now, he was, all the same a satisfied man, the image from his dreams stood before him on the living room floor. People would remember him for this for centuries, years from now, children would walk passed his house and point with awe at his windows.

With one final walk round the machine, he reached forward and grabbed the handle and pulled...

Number 61

“You understand I never wanted this to happen, I never planned for me to become what I have ended up being.” The shadow seemed to shimmer before Johns eyes, whatever the drug was that coursed through his systems seemed to dull his vision and muscle control, but not his fear.

“This is very odd for me, to actually talk to someone about what I do and you need to understand how special that makes you, very special indeed.” The shadow continued to talk as it paced before him. The voice itself was calm, with no malice or intent, but still the terror was there and a tear ran down John’s cheek.

“I was an accountant believe it or not.” The voice laughed. “Just an average Joe working in an average company, but then the cuts came. I was one of two thousand let go, with no other profession under my belt I applied for an online course. Can you believe it, there was a booklet and everything, even a fake ID card. Well, obviously it wasn’t that good, but it gave me the confidence to complete my first job.” John watched as the shadow sat down before him. It was impossible to believe that he had got past all the building security. But somehow he had, he’d made it to his floor to speak to him, the stories were obviously true, he was the best.

“That first job was messy. I wasn’t proud of what I did, I felt guilty for a long time over his wife, but she just walked in, she’d had nothing to do with the redundancies, but she saw my face, and what else was I to do... What would you have done, John? Do you mind me calling you John? Actually, you can’t answer, so I’ll just presume you’re okay with it. I know your wife calls you Big J but I don’t feel that’s appropriate here.”

John’s attention changed, the fear he felt for himself was quickly replaced by the fact this man not only knew where they lived, but must have been in their bedroom, the shadow seemed to sense the change and walked closer.

“I’m sorry if I stepped over a line, but I promise your wife and child will be safe from me, I don’t do it for free anymore, and they have no value to me. But I had to find out what you knew about me, after the questions you’ve been asking I couldn’t exactly walk passed now could I? I just had to pop up and say hello.”

John could feel drool running down his chin, but that was a good sign. He could feel. Maybe the drug was wearing off, maybe he would be able to get to the emergency button and call for help. He tried to breathe a little quicker, in the hope of flushing his system clean as the shadow continued.

“It turned out you see that I have a natural talent for not being seen. At school I was always the invisible one, the one everyone ignored, that turned out to be my greatest gift. My parents would be proud now. But obviously, they couldn’t be allowed to continue either, they made me weak, vulnerable. That kill was actually easier than I thought.” Keep talking you fool, thought John as he watched his little finger shift slightly on the arm rest of his chair.

“Over the last four years… Wow, to actually say it, it’s quite a short time scale, but yes, over the last four years I’ve completed sixty terminations. Perfectly clean, all untraceable to me…or, so I thought.” The shadow stopped and looked at him and John froze. “I’ve taken the liberty of removing the file you had on me from the computer and the mainframe, and the paper copy from your house, and the USB drive you kept in the shed, I can’t be having other coming looking afterwards now can I.”

Breathe faster, thought John as he tried to force the drug through his veins. A couple of minutes more and he could trip the silent alarm and have security here in seconds. He could feel his heartbeat increasing now as it forced the blood quicker round his system and beads of sweat started to appear on his forehead and the pain started to build in his chest.

“I do thank you, John, for this opportunity to talk, it’s been…calming.” The shadow moved towards the door, pausing as it reached for the handle. “I am sorry about having to drug you though, but It will at least look like a heart attack, save your family from any, problems later with insurances. It’s a shame you struggled really, I would have liked to have talked some more.”

THE DRESS

Katie was starting to regret moving to the city. She’d left behind all her friends, family and home comforts for a dream, a hope even, that life could be better for her in a larger city, but after only a week she was starting to doubt herself, and her future.

She’d managed to get a small flat at the top of an old house in the city with what little money she’d be able to save up, it was at least dry, and the old lady who owned it was nice and she’d welcomed Katie in as though she was her own blood.

The problem wasn’t the flat though, but the competition she faced in getting employed. She’d wanted to be an actress since a child, watching some of the classics from 2012 with her mum, and it was way back then that the glamour had taken her and never let her go. She’d taken acting classes back home, spending all her free time practicing her words and acting, but it seemed to count for nothing. Not in the City. Her first interview had called her quaint, and she hated that. Other had called her yokel, or just too country, too 2010.

She’d walked around town in the rain, knocking on every door she could find that looked like it could be a studio, or an agent, but to no avail. Now, her feet ached and she felt so depressed she wanted to just cry. She eased her shoe carefully off her feet, trying to avoid the fresh blisters that had appeared, but failed, cursing her luck she screamed, and threw her shoe at the far wall.

Tears of rejection and self pity ran down her cheek and it was a moment or two before she realised her shoe had embedded itself into the wall in the corner. More worried about being charged for the damage than anything, she stood and hobbled over to it, pulling it free from the wall before she pushed her finger into the hole.

There was something behind the wall, something solid, something hidden and as her finger touched it, her world filled with flashing lights and the sound of laughter. She pulled her hand away quickly as she tried to figure out what had just happened. Curiosity got the better of her and she pushed her finger inside again, feeling the slight fizzy of excitement as the lights and noise returned.

She started to pull a little at the hole, making it slowly larger and larger until chunks began to fall away, revealing behind it an old chest. The closer she got to it the more her heart seemed to beat faster. With shaking hands she turned the key and pushed the lid open. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she moved the carefully placed tissues out of the way before pulling the items free from inside. Whoever had locked this away had really cared for the contents, and after what must have been years of storage, everything still looked fresh and new.

She removed a picture frame first; the photo inside showing a wedding scene and she half recognised the bride. Further down she found an old photo album and a pile of letters, all neatly wrapped in a red ribbon, which she placed carefully to the side. Finally her fingers touched something and the lights and noise jumped into her mind.

The dress had gold and silver sequins and soft, almost see though material in its design and the moth balls and scent pouches fell to the floor as she pulled it free. It was a stunning dress, almost lighting the room on its own accord. Holding it up to herself she looked at the label, hoping beyond hope that it would be her size.

The dress was, by some twist of fate, her actual size and she wondered who `Pinderella` was, and why she’d put this dress away, hiding it from the world.

“That was mine, and it’s called Cheryl.” A soft and sad voice spoke from the doorway, and Katie span round, embarrassed to be caught in the act but saddened by the look in her landlady’s face.

“I am so very sorry.” Katie began, “I didn’t mean to do this but…”

“Don’t apologise.” She smiled. “I wore that dress when I met my husband.” She sighed happily as she walked in and picked up the wedding photo. “But when he passed away, those memories just seemed too real, to painful. But I guess something as beautiful as that dress needs someone to wear it. After the parties we went to, the things that dress has seen…”

She touched the image of her husband on the photo before putting it carefully back down and picking up the letters. “It’s been almost twenty years now and it still shines.”

“What about the photographers, and laughter?”

“Oh, yes. Those.” She smiled. “They were very special days when the press came out. How did you know about them?”

“The dress, I can.” Katie paused as she thought about the right words to use. “I feel them when I touch it.”

“Then try it on. Go on. It’s wrong to keep it trapped like that. You put it on and take it out for the night. Let it live a little.”

“Thank you.” She ran over and kissed her on the cheek. The pains of the day dropping away from her as she quickly changed, even her shoes felt like silk as she slipped them on and moments later she stepped out into the room.

“Beautiful.” Her landlady whispered between the tears. “You look stunning, now you go back out there and find your dream.”

As Katie stepped out onto the street, the clouds parted a little letting the sun shine down onto her, causing her shadow to dance as the sequins reflected the light, and Katie realised that sometimes all it takes for a dream to come true was a change, and maybe the right dress.

DEAR DIARY

Dear Diary,

It’s not often I write in you any more, but I need to talk to someone, I need to tell someone what I have done before it drives me mad.
Even now as I write this, I can feel my hands twitching, urging me back. They want to kill again, to take a life, to see its soul leave its body; my life has become that simple now.

I’ve not slept properly in days now, and when I do eventually fall asleep, images of the dead fill my mind, waking me from any rest I could hope to get. I wanted to be a writer, to put my thoughts to paper, to put my hands to a different use, but now, well now I just don’t know anymore.

I think its starting to affect my family, I am sure Karen knows, she’s not daft, when I’m missing for hours it’s obvious that she’s going to put two and two together eventually. I’ve started to sweat in my sleep now, after a day or two, when the images in my mind take over again and I slip out of bed for a few hours, no, she’s not daft.

So now I guess my options are reduced a little. Either I give it up, if I can. Stop and go back to writing, maybe take up a hobby to keep my mind occupied to keep my hands occupied.

Another option would be to tell her, see if she wants to join in, she might, I can hope at least, two of us would be better than one.

Last option is that I cover my tracks better, spend more time with the family, doing family things. Maybe take them out at the weekend and try to subdue my feelings, my urges.

Either way tonight is the night, the family are all in bed, let them rest for twenty or thirty minutes and then I’ll get myself ready, I should be writing, I know I should.
Damn it.
It’s the worst things I’ve done, I know that now.
I should never have bought bloody Skyrim.