One of Those Days
He ran the wrong way up the one-way street. He ignored traffic hooting - why care? He was on the pavement unlike the bloody joggers. He’d been mown down by three last month. No apologies to him. Plenty of swearing at him.
Today was a new start. No more being pushed around. He needed a symbol to show himself (and whoever cared to watch) he was finally thinking outside the box.
It was a pity he ran head first into the lamppost and was carted away in an ambulance to the sound of drivers laughing.
Vanishing Act
She disappeared in a puff of smoke.
The copper blinked. This was not supposed to happen (a) at all and (b) not on his watch. Besides which how would he explain to the Sergeant who’d sent him after this known thief? She’d stolen several cakes out of the bakery only that morning and in plain view of over half a dozen witnesses including him. The copper couldn’t see what she did with the cakes either. He’d never caught her eating them so what was the point?
Dejectedly, he walked slowly back towards the park and walked under the overhanging oak branch he swore someone should get around to pruning back before it fell on someone. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when he heard the laughter above him. Expecting it to be coming from kids, he looked up to see the fairy holding up a doughnut that seemed to be almost as big as she was.
‘Just tell me why you do it,’ the copper sighed. ‘Call it being nosey if you like, but why take cakes all the time when you don’t eat them?’
The fairy smirked. ‘It’s to slow business a bit, that’s all. I’ve been rushed off my feet with the influx of new people in the village lately.’
‘Are you saying there’s a Fairy of Confectionery and Cakes then? It’s what you specialise in!’
‘Don’t be silly, I’m the Tooth Fairy. When I fancy a night off (and who doesn’t every now and then?), I pinch all the sweets and cakes so the little blighters can’t scoff them and then need me to clear up their teeth for them. Gives me a chance to build up my funds too. So now you know what are you going to do about it, Mr Policeman? It’ll look silly arresting the Tooth Fairy.’
The copper nodded. ‘It’s got to stop. It’s not fair on the bakers.’
‘Fair? You talk about fair? Since when do humans do that, Mr Policeman?’
‘Don’t blame me for all of humanity’s faults. Just stop pinching the cakes.’
‘But…’
‘Couldn’t you take someone on to help you if you don’t want to be rushed off your feet all the time?’
The fairy gave him a shrewd look. ‘Clever thought, Mr Policeman, well done. Yes, I will get an apprentice.’ She took from her belt a shining wand and aimed it at him. ‘Time you had a job change, Mister. Welcome aboard!’
Wanting to Be Useful
She swept up into the tower where the old lady had said the spinning wheel would be. The last one in the Kingdom apparently and the old lady so wanted to ensure the old needlework skills didn’t die out when she did. But how to get around the king and queen’s absolute ban on the things?
Simple. Make friends with their naive princess, their daughter, who wanted to do her own thing - as they all did at that age - and who would still fall victim to the original spell as a result. It was a pity that meddling fairy godmother had modified it but a pillow on the girl’s face once she was asleep would take care of that problem. Sometimes the old simple direct methods were the best.
The old lady smirked as the princess came in. The girl’s eyes lit up on seeing the gold wheel and to be fair it was a quality piece of craftsmanship.
‘I’ve been thinking, old lady…’, the princess began.
The old lady frowned. Royalty wasn’t meant to think. And it annoyed her to be referred to as an old lady but she hadn’t dared give the game away in case the stupid girl blabbed to someone.
‘I need to show my parents they’re so mistaken about spinning wheels being dangerous. If I could make something on this and then take the cloth and spindle with me to show them, that would prove my point.’
The old lady nodded. All that was needed was for the right royal silly ass to touch the thing. It didn’t necessarily have to be the needle point. Besides the girl would never lift the wheel. It was made from solid gold after all.
‘Do go ahead, dear,’ the old lady said. ‘You remember how I showed you?’
The girl nodded and pulled out from her pink gown’s pocket a piece of simple white cloth. ‘I’d like to stitch a nice motto on this, perhaps in red thread. It would make a nice contrast.’ She sat down at the wheel, as the old lady moved aside with an alacrity surprising in one of her age.
And which should have told the stupid girl something, the old lady thought. Still, where would I be without the downright gullible?
The girl reached out to touch the gold wheel and, as she realised there was no way she would be able to lift the spindle, it was far heavier than she thought, she began to feel sleepy.
‘And I suppose you think you were being so clever? Just what were you going to do with that pillow, Misrelda. Somehow I don’t think you were going to make sure HRH was comfortable!’
The cold voice made the old lady jump.
‘Ah, top of the morning to you too, Candrice,’ but before the old lady could whip out her wand, she felt the pillow in her hands turn to concrete, she dropped it on her foot and screamed in agony.
With a smile, the good fairy aimed her wand at Misrelda’s heart and both the witch and the pillow vanished. Now to ensure HRH really did sleep undisturbed until the proper time.
Missing Out
He was going to miss the end of the world. He was late. Of all the days this could happen, it had to be this one.
It was all over the media - the world would end at midnight on Wednesday, 3rd June.
It never occurred to him to ask about the oh-so convenient timing and how could anyone be sure of the exact date anyway when, even in the Bible, there were warnings against those predicting such things.
All he knew was he had to get to a good vantage point to witness first hand the last moments of the world.
It was a pity really. On the way to the top of St. Giles’ Hill in Winchester, he was run over by a bus that was also running late.
They put the time of his death as midnight, Wednesday June 3rd.
About the author
Allison Symes, who loves quirky fiction, is published by Chapeltown Books, CafeLit, and Bridge House Publishing. She writes for Chandler’s Ford Today and Writers’ Narrative.
Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc.)
No comments:
Post a Comment