THE FIRE

It’s nice to just sit in the garden, watching the flames dance before me. Especially on such a crisp and clear night such as this. I’ve always found comfort and peace seeing shapes in the hot embers, and I signed contently to myself as I poked at a piece of wood with my golfing iron. Life sure seemed too busy nowadays, and people spent too much time just rushing around that they forgot the reasons they’re running.

It was one of the reasons I’d bought the Chimneya in the first place. A chance to get out of the house and just be on my own for a moment. The old cow never liked it, and that had made it an even more pleasurable experience for me. Any chance I got to get away from her, I would readily accept.

Marriage had come quickly to us. I was only eighteen when she’d claimed to be pregnant and she left me with no other option but to marry her. After thirteen months of no weight gain or sign of any baby, she’d finally admitted she’d made it up to get the ball rolling. Something to do with not being the last one to get married out of her friends or something like that, she actually laughed when she told me.

That had been over thirty years ago now. Thirty years of trying to avoid each other, thirty years of me working all the hours god gave so she could buy what she wanted. It was easier to let her just get on with it than complain. The last time I did that I ended up in A&E while they stitched my forehead. I’d told them I slipped while doing some DIY. It didn’t seem worth causing a fuss.

I guess over the years I put up with a lot of crap from her. She went out with her friends and crawled back to the house in the morning, smelling of booze and other men and I just took it all, I took everything she threw at me, she called me a weak excuse for a man, she’d called me worse...

I move a larger piece of wood into the flames with the Iron and sit back to watch it as it starts to smoke. The fires getting hotter now, but it’s a nice contrast to the cold frozen evening outside and I take a swig from the bottle of Jack I brought outside with me.

I can’t remember what I first saw in the bitch now though. I think it came down to desperation. I just didn’t want to be left alone, you know? That thought of growing old alone scared me. All of my friends had got serious with someone, and a few had even got married and moved away.

It’s funny really, when I look back on it. To think I accepted the beatings and the abuse she gave me, rather than the option to be alone. I wonder what my life would have been like if I’d just not gone out that night, if I had just stayed at home. Would I have met someone better later on, or would I be alone now, sitting in a little flat somewhere watching football on TV?

God I hate her. I’m sorry, I just get angry sometimes. Its the way she flaunted her control over me over the years, the way she spent my money, leaving me with little option but to stay in when she went out. My only hobby, my golf, had fallen by the wayside when she broke my leg, another DIY accident I reported to the hospital.

I used to love my golf. My friends used to tell me I could have gone pro. I had a skill with the club that was amazing to watch, now it hurts if I stand for too long. The wood pops as the air trapped in it explodes in the heat and I jump. I have to learn to control my nerves, I have to stop myself being afraid of everything. Its time for me to change.

My head is sweating from the heat and I can feel my eyes starting to dry out. I guess I have to go and face the music.

I’ve put up with everything that cow threw at me, everything. But to come home and see her laughing as she burnt my golf clubs on the fire was the straw that push me over the edge. Its funny, even after all these years, It turns out I still have a good swing with the iron, shame the house caught fire but at least I wont have to worry about burying the bitch…

TOCK

It felt good to watch him die, that single moment when you feel the bone in his throat breaking, that single second when you know there’s no going back. He’s struggling less now as the air leaves his lungs. The eyes are the oddest thing, when they go all white as they roll back into the skull, at least he hasn’t urinated.

            Satisfied that he’s dead, I let go and he drops to the floor. It’s now that I feel it, that moment of pleasure as I realise what I’ve done, and the consequences that could follow. There is no remorse, no sadness at taking the life. In the end I suppose he deserved it someway.

            I flex my fingers as the blood flows back into them, they ache slightly from the pressure exerted on them. It might be slight arthritis; I’ll need to start taking cod liver oil I suppose if I’m going to continue. I don’t want to be old with gnarly fingers.

            It’s funny really when I look back on it. The fact I can still see that single moment when I snapped, when my world crashed down around me. I guess it could happen to anyone really.

            I had a good upbringing; there were no beatings from my father, no abuse to report in any way. My holidays were filled with love and laughter and my school years caused no concerns to me. My job is a little boring, but whose isn’t. I do like crown green bowling, but I can’t imagine that causing anyone to kill. No, my problem came to me.

            It was almost a year ago now; I was out in my local shopping centre when I spied an old carriage clock. It was slightly damaged so it was half price. At the end of the day, a small scratch on the metal didn’t bother me, so I bought it.

            What I didn’t realise until later was that the scratch wasn’t the only thing wrong. It took me three months of sitting uncomfortable on the sofa as my world change before I realised the problem. The clock I’d purchased only had a `Tock`, it had lost its `Tick`. I tried to take it back but the assistant looked at me like I was mad.

She was the first to go. I followed her home one night and waited until she was asleep, before I suffocated her with the pillow. It was the most orgasmic feeling I’d ever had, nothing in my life had prepared me for the feeling that taking a life gives you. Nothing.

            From then on, I tried to re-experience the feeling at least once a week. Stabbing turned out to be very messy and I didn’t like guns. So I returned to the simplest way possible. Now, simple strangulation is enough to keep me going. My last review in work was good and I’m up for a promotion now my manager was found dead.

            Please don’t judge me. I didn’t go looking for this; it was just a simple mistake to have sold the clock in the first place.

But just listen to yours now.

Go on, listen.

Hear it?

Tock,

Tock,

Tock….

THE SWITCH

“I don’t know what it does, why should I?” Keith push Simon out of the way as he walked over to look at it. “I’ve never seen it before.”

            “But this is your house isn’t it? you should know what its for.”

            “Well, I swear I’ve never seen it before, I’m sure it wasn’t there yesterday. Bill, you was here on Tuesday, did you see it?”

            “See what?” Bill walked casually out of the kitchen, a can of beer he’d found in the fridge in his hands. “What are you talking about?”

            “This switch here.” Keith moved to the side and pointed at it. “Was this here on Tuesday?”

            “What the hell is that? No mate” he laughed. “That wasn’t there the other day. Something like that I guess we would have spotted.”

            “Let me get this right.” Simon snatched the beer from his hands “You’re telling me, than you’ve been here for over six months and you’ve never seen this switch before?”

            “Yeah, honest. I swear it wasn’t there yesterday. I’d have seen it wouldn’t I, a big red thing like that in the middle of my living room wall.”

            They all stood back, passing the beer between them as they examined the switch. It was certainly hard to imagine how they’d missed it. Keith and Bill had been playing on the Xbox all night on Tuesday, the beer stains of the wall where Keith had thrown his can when he’d lost were visible around the switch, there was even beer on the surrounding plate.

            “Well.” Bill walked over to it, “What does it do?”

            “I don’t know…” Keith clasped in head in his hands, “I’ve never seen it before.”

            “Switches don’t just appear do they?” Simon asked causing the others to stop and turn.

            “Err...” Bill frowned, “I don’t think so. Never put one in before myself, but I can’t imagine they migrate.”

            “Your being stupid the pair of you” Keith passed the now empty can back to Simon and walked over to the wall, pushing his finger on the top as he started to click it down.

            “I mean, what’s the worse that could…….”

THE SPACE-NINJA, COWBOY PIRATES THAT TIME FORGOT

The ship cruised silently thought the voids of space causing hardly a ripple on the fabric of reality, Joshua Make-piece knew his ship and how to control it, and she had seen him through a number of close calls in the past few years. He liked this time of the day, the quiet time, time when his crew had logged off for the day leaving him at the helm.

The concept of day and night didn’t really exist in space, with no orbiting sun there was nothing to reference against, so the ship kept count for them, though their enemies didn’t care what time they attacked and he could count four times so far that he’d had to get out of the bath in order to decapitate some bad guy or other, and he’d usually had to refill it afterwards as the water seemed to go cold quickly in space.

It had taken him almost half a century to collect his crew, travelling the far flung reaches of the universe picking up the best, the brightest and the toughest that he came across. Mad John McGrunderer he’d found on a small asteroid, as he survived on all that remained of his planet, though he didn’t like to talk about what happened to the rest of it. Plain Jane the Ninja Queen had joined him after the massacre of Aisle Two on Tesco seven. Gunder Jack and Psycho Bill had escaped from Juniper 21 using only a used toothbrush and a bag of marbles, and Bill Brain-Smasher was just a very good cook. He stared out into the darkness before him, lost in his own thoughts when there came a knock at the door.

“Enter.” He called, in his crisp English accent.

“Beggin your pardon, Captain.” Mad John grinned, “But me and the boys just wondered if you fancied doing something. You know, to pass the time sort of thing.”

“You mean a rescue, or an attack on a heavily defended outpost?” The captain’s eyes sparked, “Maybe to go head to head against the Jukiluk Bird of Ontar one, naked and armed with only a spatula?”

“No, not really.” Mad John shook his head. “Jane was thinking of Monopoly.”

             Captain Joshua Make-piece looked out onto the sea of dark matter outside his cockpit. “What the hell.” He nodded. “But I want to be the doggy.”

SALT

“Would you give it a rest, woman.” I didn’t mean to get angry but it just happened, it was just that recently everything I did seemed to be wrong in some way. Ever since the doctor told me I had slight health issues, slight he’d said… He even told me not to worry to much about it, just to be careful. The worse thing I did was tell my wife.

            Since then, she’s watched me like a hawk. `Don’t do that, Dear.` or `Let me do that for you.` like I’m some sort of old man already. Don’t get me wrong, I know she means well, I know she’s doing it because she cares, but I have to be allowed to do things, I can’t spend the rest of my life covered in cotton wool. I just wish she’d back off a little and let me breathe.

            I’ve already cut down on all my fatty foods. I used to love a plate of sausage and chips, or a bacon and egg sandwich. But now, it’s down to salads, or muesli, ack.. Bloody muesli, squirrel crap it is. Not enough meat for a real man, although I must confess to being a little more regular now, but that’s besides the point.

            “You have to let me live a little. I’m going to go crazy if I can’t have the odd pleasure.” I purposefully twist the grinder over my poached egg as I stare at her, a little to angrily to be honest, but she was winding me up. “For the last three weeks now…” I twist again. “You’ve been on at me…” and again. “I’ve given up bloody smoking haven’t I?” twist, “I’ve got rid of the chip pan.” Twist, “all I want to do now, Is have a quiet breakfast. With my Bloody low fat newspaper.” Twist, “ and have a peaceful weekend.” Twist. “Without you going on and bloody on about my diet.” Twist.

            “A little salt will do me no.” Twist. “Bloody” Twist. “Harm…” She sat silently before me. Anger welling up being her eyes as she places her knife and fork quietly next to her unfinished breakfast before standing up.

            “I was going to tell you that you’d picked up the `Pepper pot`, you ungrateful prick!”