THE MOJAVE

At this time of night there was hardly anyone else on the road, and he actually found himself started to enjoy the drive. The cold night breeze that blew from the desert was in total contrast to the sweltering heat of the day that he’d driven through, and he ran his fingers through his hair to cool his head. The last rays of sunlight caught the mountains on the horizon, casting a deep red glow over the few wisps of cloud that had started to form. The desert drive was certainly the longest stretch of his journey so far. 

He had heard stories about the Mojave Desert, but until you actually drove it, you didn’t appreciate its size or its heat. He’d driven along the highway for the past fourteen hours. Stopping only once for gas, and to grab some lunch. He could feel the strain of the constant motion starting to affect him. His left buttock had been numb for about an hour now, and no matter how he moved it, it wouldn’t wake up. He worried how much more of him would follow before he found somewhere to stop for the night. He pulled his last joint from the glove box and lit it, holding the thick smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling happily out of the window. He knew it was dangerous to smoke one when he was driving, but he needed something to stimulate him. Time for the radio, he thought as he switched it on.

He prayed for something loud, something with a good beat that would keep him awake. Hell he thought, even the gospel channel would do if the preacher shouted loud enough. Although the light came on behind the display he couldn’t get a clear signal on any of the buttons. Obviously something he should have checked before he bought the car. Leaning forward again he tried to tune it manually but only managed to fill the car with a garbled static, and he punched it angrily. He felt the car swerve as it ran off the road and he grabbed the wheel with both hands. His joint dropping from his mouth into the foot well as tried to regain control. Turning the wheel too quickly in the wrong direction he span out. Dust and sand spat up as he skidded round, finally coming to rest facing the wrong way.

He rested his head against the steering wheel, the adrenaline coursing through him as he realised how close he’d come to flipping over. With shaking hands he reached down for his smoke before opening the door and climbing out. Now he’d stopped, he realised how noisy the desert nights actually were. The sound of crickets and other insects suddenly filled his ears, almost deafening him as they laughed at him. “Shut up!” he screamed “Just shut up”. He kicked the car angrily and his foot denting the wing of the Cadillac. As his tantrum took over he lashed out again. Screaming and ranting until finally exhausted, he sat down at the side of the road.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there for as he tried to control the anger that boiled inside him. Time didn’t seem to move as quickly out here as it did in the big city, but as the clouds rumbled over head, and he realised he needed to get inside before it started to rain. A quick check of the car revealed no immediate problems after the crash. Other than the wing he’d dented, the only other bit of visible damage was where he’d collided with something at the side of the road. He could see what looked like a sign still jammed under his fender. He grabbed the wood and pulled, most of it remained under the car but the base broke free at last and he dragged it out. The main part of the sign with the name remained under his wheel arch. `Rooms available` It sounded like just what he needed. A good night’s sleep would give him some well needed rest, and help to replenish his energy banks.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a bed. He’d been on the road for so long now his previous life seemed such a long time ago. He spotted a building on the horizon, and he realised he’d must have crashed on the lane leading up to it. Tossing the sign into the darkness, he smiled at his good fortune at spinning off the road here. Any further along and he would have missed this place for sure. It wasn’t a long drive, maybe a minute or two at most before he could see the Hotel properly. It looked old, but serviceable, and the car park looked busy despite it’s off the track location. He pulled in near the entrance and just hoped they had some coffee brewing. His muscles started to ache as he pulled on the handbrake. A shower before bed he thought to himself, it sounded about as much as he could manage, and he wearily stumbled from the car up to the door of the hotel.

“Evening handsome.” a woman said as she stepped from the shadows. She held an old oil lantern in her hand and it cast a soft welcoming glow into the night. “You’re arriving late aren’t you?”

“It’s been a long day lady” he replied curtly. “Sorry,” he apologised, forcing a smile. She looked descent enough, and she had a worn down elegance that hinted at old money. Her black hair dropped to her smooth shoulders and her red evening dress dropped to the floor, dragging the dirt as she walked over to him.

“My names Sable” she smiled, holding her hand out to him as she put the cigarette holder in her mouth.

“John.” he replied as he shook her hand politely. “You don’t have a spare one of those do you?” he nodded to her cigarette.

“Sorry” she shook her head apologetically. “I only popped out for a quick one when I heard the thunder.” she looked over to the horizon “I’ve got more inside though.” she smiled suggestively. He could hear a clock chiming from inside and he suddenly realised how late it was.

“Thanks. But I guess I need to book in first” he felt concerned that they would stop taking guests. Sable quickly finished her smoke and trod the end under her black high heel.

“So, John.” she linked her arm around his “What brings such a handsome man out here at such an hour, are you meeting someone?” He pushed the door open, and they walked in together. He didn’t know who this woman was, but he certainly liked her style. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Her voice didn’t seem to have any accent he recognised and he presumed she was European, but that wasn’t the answer to the mystery. She was certainly beautiful, full of an elegance and style from a past time. Her dress hugged her slender figure, and he found himself watching her as she walked before him and with no visible panty line, she was either very innocent, or very naughty, and he hoped it was the latter and wondered what it would cost him.

The hotel manager smiled and welcomed him with an obviously well rehearsed greeting, and he let the corporate spiel wash over him without really listening. They all sounded the same anyway, and he was too engrossed with Sable to really bother too much. The manager finally pushed the registration card over to him and handed him a pen. “How long do you wish to stay, sir?” his voice sounded rough. The sort of voice you got after too many years smoking cheap cigarettes.

“Just the night I think” John tried to be polite. “I’ll be setting off early in the morning”

“Very good, sir.” He took the registration card back without looking at it “We have plenty of rooms on offer, at one standard price. We are not that busy, sir” he added as an after thought as he saw Johns expression “So we relax the prices” he explained.

“Oh! I thought with all the cars at the front…”

“No, sir. Most of those don’t work. Relics from the previous owners” he smiled. “We just keep them there to add ambiance. So which room sir?”

“Any” he shrugged “Why don’t you just choose one for me”

“Can you give him the room next to mine?” Sable asked.

“Yes miss Sable.” He nodded “That’s not a problem at all” he handed over a set of keys. “The restaurant is still open, Sir” he suggested as they walked away. “If you require anything to eat that is. The cost is included in the price of your room already.” The thought of warm food made his stomach rumble loudly. Now he was off the main road, he started to feel better. Maybe something to eat would be good, at least he should be able to get a coffee. Sable started to gently pull him towards the restaurant, and he didn’t feel like resisting too much as she led the way.

She smelt wonderful. A soft, but captivating perfume that reminded him of his grandmother. One of those older richer perfumes that seemed to be coming back in fashion, his ex wife had certainly had a collection of them. The restaurant was beautiful to behold with dark mahogany panels covering the walls. A huge candelabra hung over the dance floor to one side, illuminating the dancer below. Obviously used for functions and such he mused. Maybe that’s how they managed to stay open out here. It was certainly the sort of place you’d expect people to come to for an expensive wedding or party.

Sable chose a table in the corner, and stood next to her chair. Obviously waiting for him to pull it out so she could sit. It took him a moment to realise what she was waiting for, and he apologised as he helped her to sit. The food was wonderful. Quite how they’d managed to keep the chef on site at such a late hour amazed him. He’d expected maybe some cold leftovers at best, but this was most probably the best steak he’d simply ever had. Sable didn’t talk while he ate. She seemed to just enjoy the simple pleasure of watching him eat. It was some time later than he eventually pushed his plate aside, and dabbed at his face with his serviette. The waiter had placed a pot of coffee in the middle of the table and he filled both cups. “So, how long have you been here?” he asked.

“Not long really.” Sable smiled “Though it certainly feels longer at times. I’m waiting for some friends to arrive, but they’ve been held up.” she sipped at her drink. “So, John.” her eyes twinkled as she looked at him “What brought you here?”

“What brought me here?” he repeated as he thought how best to answer. It was a reasonable enough question he supposed, and it wasn’t as though Sable was prying. “I guess I just needed to get away.” he looked into her deep blue eyes as he spoke, feeling himself falling into them. It felt easy to talk to her, to relax. A chance for him to be himself again.

“Get away from what?” she asked, obviously not satisfied with his answer.

“My ex-wife.” He felt angry as he talked about the deceitful bitch. “She got everything I had in the divorce. Even the Merc.” It had been well over a year ago now, but some wounds cut deeper than others. “I should have seen it coming.” he shrugged “She was an actress. She had lots of friends round.” he explained. “Mostly male friends” he added. “And she had the money to hire a better lawyer than I could in the end.”

 “So you just drove away?”

“Sort of”. His past suddenly felt very close and he looked around the room trying to find a way of changing the subject. “I can’t believe people are still dancing. Doesn’t anyone sleep around here?” Sable laughed at his question.

“The desert tends to change you after a while.” She explained as they watched them twirling around. “It’s too hot during the day to really do anything you see, so most of us stay up late and sleep the hottest part of the day away.” The band played old dance hall tunes in the corner, and he found himself tapping his fingers to the beat on the table. “Would you care to dance?” Sable asked, she took his unresisting hand and led him to the dance floor.

He was started to feel sleepy again as he walked along with her, and was about to object when she kissed him. He instantly felt butterflies dancing in his stomach as her lips caressed his, and a small electric shock seemed to jump between them. “Just one dance.” she smiled. “Then we can go to bed.” He smirked at her comment. Okay lady, he thought, if that’s the way you want to play it.

They danced slowly at first, but sped up as they got used to each others movements. He knew he wasn’t the best dancer in the world, but Sable somehow not only managed to avoid his clumsy feet, but like a true professional, she managed to control him until he got better. They danced out into the cooler courtyard, the heady scent of the evening flowers and spices lulled him on, and with each kiss he felt energized, more alive than he had felt during all of his marriage and he realised he was more happier now than he’d felt in a long time.

“Sable,” he whispered. “Who are you?”

“Shush.” She placed her manicured finger lightly against his lips “Don’t think. Don’t worry about anything. Just dance with me.” Thunder rolled in the distance, and a soft rumbling flowed down from the mountains to the north. Bringing the promise of rain later, but the sky above them remained blissfully clear and the stars twinkled gaily above. He realised she was right. Why ask question? why bother? While he was here, with her, there didn’t seem to be any reason for him to run any further. They finally stopped dancing and sat on a low wall. He evening was perfect, she laughed at his jokes as though everyone was new, and her face seemed to shine as they talked about nothing. Finally she announced it was time for bed and she led him once more by the hand back into the building.

“What wines do you have?” he enquired as the waiter passed them. “I’m sorry, Sir.” he shook his head sadly. “Our wine cellar was destroyed in a fire in the sixties. We have to order it in now for special events. We do have a fine collection of beer on tap though, if that will suffice.”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s okay, it was just a thought.”

“Can we get a bottle of champagne in our room then?” Sable smiled. “That would be nice to end the night with, and I recall you have a bottle or two still around from the weekend?”

“Indeed we do, Miss Sable.” he smiled. “Indeed we do. I will see to it directly.” He nodded politely before shuffling away and they walked slowly back into the foyer. Sable led the way to their rooms, stopping every few minutes to kiss him deeply on the lips and it felt like hours had passed when she finally stopped by a door.

“Well. This is your room.” she smiled. “Why don’t you get a shower and change into something more comfortable and I’ll see you in about ten minutes.” she stroked his cheek gently with her nail before walking to the next door. Turning back with a smile she blew a single kiss to him before stepped inside. His room was spacious and the large double bed felt firm to the touch. There was a bucket of ice stood to one side with a bottle of champagne sitting neatly in it. He lay down, scaring himself slightly as he spotted the mirrors above the bed. So it’s that sort of Hotel he smirked. He’d certainly slept in seedier places, but none better than this.

 The shower was just what his aching back needed. He just let the water crash into his face for a minute or two before finally starting to wash the dust and sand from his joints, and he thought of Sable waiting for him in the next room. He didn’t want to put the same old clothes on and was pleased to see a luxuriously soft bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Better than nothing he thought. Well, at least for the moment and he allowed himself a smile as he thought of Sable. She must be waiting for him now, he realised, and he eagerly dried his hair before making for her room.

He tapped lightly on her door and as a couple walked passed he realised how naked he was under the gown. “Evening,” he nodded to them, “It's such a lovely night isn’t it?” They nodded politely as they continued passed and he knocked again. The conversation from the couple still reaching him down the long corridor, but he couldn’t make out what they said but eventually Sable opened the door. She was still as dressed as he had left her, and a sudden flash of fear panicked him that he had misread the situation. He didn’t know how he could have, not with the clear signs she’d given. But she’d smiled approvingly when she saw him, so he guessed everything was fine.

“Do you mind if I just pop somewhere else first?” she smiled. “You can wait in my room if you’d like. I won’t be long.”

“Sure.” he replied, not knowing what else to say. “I guess that’s fine.” It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say, but as long as she was coming back he guessed it would be okay.

“It’s just a small matter of business I need to attend to.” she smiled reassuringly. “There’s no peace for the wicked you know, just go inside and get yourself comfortable and I’ll be right back.”

“You’re working now?” he asked.

“Sort of,” She stopped in the corridor. “I do a little work for the hotel. Meeting and greeting, special guests mainly,” she explained. “They take it of the price of my stay if I help out now and again. I’ll just be a second or two, I promise, Is that okay?”

“Sure,” he nodded. “Sure, no problem. See you in a moment.” A minute or two wasn’t that much of a price to pay for such a sexy woman, he reasoned. He watched her walk off up the corridor before he stepped back into her room and closed the door. The room was very similar to his, and he was pleased to see the mirrors on the ceiling in here too. Her luggage sat open on a chair near the window and he casually walked over to it, moving bits aside to see what she’d brought with her. It seemed to contain either long dresses or underwear and a couple of pairs of high heels had been dropped in at the bottom. An odd selection of items he thought, not very practical in the desert though he liked the lace.

A scream from outside the room made him turn quickly. It wasn’t a high pitched scream of a woman, but of a man. He opened the door and listened for anything that would tell him what direction the sound had come from. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he darted back to his room and grabbing his knife from his boot. He knew he should have got rid of it ages ago but he’d just never got round to it. Keeping it on him had been a risky choice, but now he felt happier to have something solid with him.

Back on the corridor again he followed the sound and he cautiously made his way over to the door. Pressing his ear against it to listen, he jumped as a scream bellowed once more from inside. Someone was defiantly in pain, someone needed help. He kicked the door hard with his foot and barged inside as it swung open. The scene before him was hard to believe. A man lay on the bed, his face contorted in pain and fear as a group of people cut into his stomach.

Blood sprayed from the wounds as they repeatedly stabbed him, over and over they stabbed him but he didn’t move. He just lay there screamed over and over, seemingly unable to stop them. His hands shook uncontrollable as he backed away from the macabre scene.

“John, dear,” Sable called happily as she stepped away from the bed. “I thought I told you to stay in my room, you naughty boy.” Her face was covered in blood as she spoke and she wiped it absent-mindedly off with her slender fingers and licked it. “I told you I’d be back in a moment.” She acted as thought nothing was wrong. That what she was doing was perfectly normally. She sauntered towards him as the others continued to stab at the man on the bed. His screams now seemed to be almost deafening.

“Oh, look, you dropped your knife.” She bent to pick it up, handing it back to him and he carefully took it from her. “Go and wait for me, John, I won’t be long.” She gently pushed him from the room and closed the door. He stood for a second or two staring at the wooden panels of the door, the image inside flashing before his eyes. There was no way he was going to stay here. Not now, and he certainly didn’t want to wait for Sable. He ran down the corridors, trying to find the exit, trying to remember the route they’d taken to get here.

Each corridor looked the same, leading off into god knows where and it was more by chance than skill that he eventually found the foyer and ran to get help from the attendant.

“Good evening, Sir,” he smiled. “Can I help you?”

“You need to call the police” he insisted. “There been a murder, well someone’s being murdered.”

“Calm down sir, calm down” he held up his hands as he spoke. “Do you want a coffee instead?”

“No. You’re not listening to me!” he shouted. “Call the police.”

“No Sir.” His demeanour didn’t change. “There’s been no murder, certainly no murder here. The restaurant is still open though if you want something to eat”

“You’re mad,” he screamed throwing his keys on the desk. “You’re all mad.” He ran to the door. To hell with them, if they wouldn’t call the police he’d just get the hell out of there. There was no way he was going to report this. Not now. Not so soon after…

He stepped through the door and stopped as the world seemed to spin before him. He was stood back in the foyer of the hotel. The attendant smiled over to him as he stood confused at the door.

“Welcome to…” He began, but John turned and pushed open the door again to step outside. He’d jump in his car and be gone. Put all this behind him. The world span again and he stood in the foyer once more. Sable was there now all clean and sultry again.

“John dear” she smiled. “Are you okay? you look pale.”

“What the hells going on?”

The television in the corner started to play louder and he could see a news crew as they filmed what looked like a serious car crash, and he seemed drawn to it as the reporter spoke to the camera.

“Well, I’m here at the scene of the accident” she continued. “From what information we’ve been given so far, he died at the scene so it looks like the chase is finally over.” A voice from the studio cut in over as she talked.

“Can you confirm it’s actually him?”

“Yes I can” she smiled. “The police confirmed it a few moments ago. This is defiantly John Kelly.” He felt his legs go weak at the mention of his name and he staggered backwards, holding himself up against the counter.

“As we all know, he’s been on the most wanted list for two months now after he brutal stabbing his ex-wife and six of her lovers.” Had someone else been mistaken for him? he wondered. His mind raced as he looked for options to explain what was happening. As he continued to watch the screen the medics carried a body back to the waiting ambulance. The camera zoomed into the stretched and he let out a cry of disbelief. It was him. He was on the stretcher. He looked up at Sable as she walked over to him, gently leading him to the desk.

“You need to sign in John.” He looked dumbly at the attendant. Not understanding what was happening?

“Welcome to the Hotel California” the clerk smiled. “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave...”

PLINK, PLINK, FIZZ

When Gillian woke, she knew something felt wrong, but she needed a moment to stabilise her brain. 

The wine or whatever else she’d drunk last night had obviously been more potent than her normal one. Back in France she’d been able to drink a bottle or more with lunch, and still been able to going back to work without a problem. Maybe it was the lack of food that had caused it, or maybe it was a bad drink or seven.

Either way, her mouth was dry, her head was spinning and she felt rough. Not the normal sort of rough that comes from a slight wine hangover but more from some sort of a `vodka` induced event. Maybe that was it, maybe it had been vodka, and she could sort of remember someone shouting if she wanted a drink, but over the noise of the party she couldn’t hear properly so she’d shouted back for a pint.

Back home, she’d usually wake in the early hours and take a pain killer before falling back asleep. Waking later with only a clear head and a fluffy memory, but for some reason, the pain killers had not worked.

Maybe if she’d been home and used her painkillers, then this problem wouldn’t have happened, but then again, if she’d been able to actually get home none of this would have happened. She could feel a tickling between her legs, and she just hoped she’d actually made it back to her friend’s house and wasn’t in some strangers 
bedroom. But the knock at the door and the friendly face of Rachel reassured her that she had actually made it okay.

 

`Do you feel up to a Full English Breakfast? ` She asked quietly from the door.

`No` Gillian waved the thought away. `Not a greasy English Breakfast, no. Do you have croissants? `

`Sorry` Rachel shook her head, `You look really hung over. Do you want an Alka-Seltzer or something? I have some in the kitchen cupboard.`

`No` Gillian shook her head. `I tried two last night, but it did nothing to remove the headache. `

`You did remember to take them with water didn’t you. Remember, Plink, Plink, fizz?` Rachel nodded, reminding her of the instructions. `I told you last night.`

 

It was then that Gillian realised another thing she didn’t like about the English, and the reason she felt, odd down below. `They’re not suppositories are they? ` She shouted as she ran to the toilet,
the fizzing continuing from her bottom.

GRANDMA

Inspired by a piece of art from a very talented artist called `Chris Larkin`

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=422118097812566&set=a.233633449994366.66702.232586313432413&type=1

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Grandma.

By Ian Hawley

Emily didn’t know how long she’d been crying for before she ran out of tears, the empty feeling of loss made her feel sick, and she couldn’t put her thoughts into words to explain them. She understood what death was, she’d seen dead pets before, even buried a few of her own, but this was different, more, well, more final. When she thought of her Grandma, and the fact that she would never see her again, the idea that she wasn’t there to listen to her problems, to offer her advice was just, well, too hard for her young head to take in.

She climbed of her bed, still holding her damp, tear stained pillow to her chest as she walked over to the window and looked outside. The wind whipped at the trees outside as and she sniffed as she watched the leaves as they danced before her eyes. Her Grandma had always loved a storm, and Emily smiled at the memories she had of sitting on her knees as the thunder rolled outside.

`Don’t you let the daft old weatherman scare you, Emily` she used to say, `The way to beat him is to make him scared of you, Like this.` and then her Grandma would shout at the thunder, and Emily joined in before they both fell about in fits of laughter and she smiled at the memory. 

The balloon she’d given her at her Birthday a few weeks ago floated gently by the window, moving slightly in the breeze that managed to filter through somehow into her room, and she stopped to stroke it. 

`I miss you, Grandma, ` she whispered. `I miss you so much. ` She ran her hand over the shiny red heart as she spoke, feeling the material crinkle under her little fingers. `I want to give you this heart back, so you know how much I love you. ` She whispered, as fresh tears ran from her eyes. `That way, there will always be a little of me to keep you company. `

Taking the string in hand, she walked slowly from her room and down the stairs; no one looked as she walked passed. Everyone seemed to be in a world of their own memories, so she quietly opened the front door and stepped outside.

The wind made the balloon pull her hand, but she held on. Holding it tightly in her fingers and she realised that she didn’t really want to let it go, that this balloon was important to her to and she started to sob. `Mum told me when my fish died that you sometimes have to let those you love go, so as not to hold them back. But I want you to be here, I don’t want you to go. Why did you go Grandma, Why...`

Suddenly a sudden strong gust pulled the string free from her hand and the balloon shot upwards out of her grasp, and Emily screamed as she realised what had happened, causing her mother to appear quickly behind her.

`Emily, are you okay? ` Her mother shouted, running over to hug her, and hold her close.

`Grandma’s balloon.` Emily sobbed, `It’s gone and I want it back, I want her back.` She buried her head into her mother’s shoulder. `It’s not fair. `Her mother didn’t answer her, actually, her mother didn’t move at all, and Emily realised that something about that wasn’t quite right and she slowly pushed herself free. Her mother continued to stare behind Emily and as she slowly turned round, she saw the balloon, holding itself in the air a few feet from them.

`Grandma` Emily shouted happily, `Grandma, is that you? ` She pushed herself free from her mother’s arms and ran to the balloon and the wind whipped her hair from her face as she reached up to grab the string, but she stopped herself before she did.

`You know what, Grandma` she smiled, wiping the tears from her face. `You keep it, look after it for me and shout at the storms for me. Just as long as you come back to see me sometime, I’ll be okay. The next time it thunders, you listen for me shouting, Raaaaaaaa.` she roared. 

The heart floated before her for a moment before bobbing down slowly to her height and bopped her on her once on her forehead before shooting up into the sky.

`Bye Grandma, I love you` Emily called as it rose peacefully away. `Bye...`

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...