Sunday Serial: Seeing the Other Side by Allison Symes, hot chocolate

 

Taking The Pen Away

 

There was once a cracker joke writer

Whose puns made people curse the blighter

So when his pen was taken

He felt forlorn, forsaken

But the world felt oh so much brighter!

 

 

Crossing Time

 

'I suppose you think that was clever', the girl said.

'Of course, why do it otherwise?' I replied.

'You can't hold me back. It doesn't matter what you do.'

'There's not a human born who doesn't long to, you know. I had the courage to try.'

'Or the foolishness! Most of you accept you cannot beat me. You even celebrate me once a year.'

'Yes, it's all lights and fireworks and parties, but you are a cruel devil and I will beat you.'

The girl laughed. 'How? You're not immortal. You can't win a fight with Time. I should know. I also know how long you have. I can see your sands running through.’

Out of nowhere she produced an hour glass and sure enough the sand was running through but I didn't care. I didn't bother looking. I didn't want to know. It wasn't the object of the exercise. I wanted to defy Time and I had.

'I can keep you at bay with this time piece, and keep doing so until it is time for me to go. I like my current age. I will stay this way. That will do.'

I waved the pocket watch in the girl's face as if daring her to take it but she waved it away from me. The watch hands were going backwards. I set them to a week ago last Friday. I wanted to see if I could do it the way the salesman in that strange little shop insisted I could.

And sure enough here I was back where I had been last Friday. Just outside the chip shop, cursing myself for forgetting my coat on what was the coldest night of the year so far. What I hadn't expected was this wraith like girl turning up to berate me.

'There is always a price to pay for crossing Time,' the girl said, sighing. 'I will catch you in the end. Your time will come. And trust me I will make you know it when it does. I don't like cheats. I never have.'

'So be it but my 'time's up' will be at the age I choose.'

'And how are you going to explain that to people? Tell them you've got a funny portrait in your attic?'

I grimaced. I must admit that thought had not occurred to me. But so what? I could always tell people I had found a really good moisturiser!

The girl vanished. I went and got my chips. I was just crossing the road, munching them happily, when a Mini came out of nowhere and sent me crashing across to the other side. The last thing I remember was seeing the girl reappear and she was laughing.

I got one thing right. Time is a cruel devil.

 

 

The Gatekeeper

 

Not many people call on me. A King did once just as his country was at war. He was a good man and I told him what he needed to know. He asked the right question, see.

Yes, I stand here. I look back and I look forward but I cannot tell you what I see. I am bound to the highest power of all and He binds me to secrecy.

Be honest now. What would you do if you knew the future? The temptation to use it for your own ends would be too much.

Oh I know how weak humans are. Some of you think hate is a good thing. I would’ve thought looking back at your own history would tell you otherwise. If you can’t learn from your past which is fixed, why would you learn from the future, which isn’t?

But what do I know? More than I ever dare tell.

I am the gatekeeper. I watch. I see life and death but I join in with neither. My role is a tough one but vital. Nobody abuses time on my watch. Time is a gift. Use her wisely. Go forth then and put your hand in the hand of God. It is what the King did.

Author note: This is a nod to the poem The Gate of the Year by Minnie Louise Haskins, which starts with And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year. King George VI quoted from it in his 1939 Christmas Day speech. The poem still has resonance and always will though I think the gatekeeper’s role would be an incredibly lonely one.

 

                                              Travelling Well

 

You know just where the cold gets when you travel in winter as I do. The Beast from the East is such a good description. It is of no use to man or beast. Not only is there the chill to contend with, the nights draw in so early. Okay, my peak time of travel is midnight (it’s a tradition), but when I’m off duty, I like to see the sun as much as anyone else does.

I take plenty of hot drinks with me but I’m always okay for food. There are loads of mince pies (it’s just as well I love them) and if I got stuck, I could always scoff the carrots left out for my reindeer. Must let someone know reindeers don’t eat carrots. It’s something to do with their teeth but I’ve forgotten what that was now. I guess the kindly thought is there though. Means a lot to me in my job, that does.

I have no choice on when I travel and I’ve got used to it over the centuries. Seeing the Northern Lights is always wonderful and trust me I have the best view ever of those. Cheers me up immensely. Cold, dark nights, bad weather - winter doesn’t have much to commend it, does it? I like to think though I bring a little cheer when it’s needed though.

But at least I don’t get stuck in snow or caught out by heavy traffic. My flying sleigh is pretty unique. But oh I feel the cold, despite all my layers, and I’m not as young as I was. I love the job but, when I get home, kick the old boots off, and my journey’s done for another year, oh the relief! Mrs Claus has a decent meal and hot drinks on standby. (Mince pies are great but not terribly filling and even I can only eat so many of them before I yearn for a juicy steak pie or something). Journeys in winter are made bearable when you’ve someone to come home to and the job you do is worthwhile. Trust me I know. And the admin’s okay. I have a list, I have to check it twice, but I could do that in my sleep now.

Talking of which, another Christmas Eve has come and gone. Time to get my head down for a bit I think. See you next year - or not. Depends what side of my list you’re on!

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.)

Sunday Serial: Seeing the Other Side by Allison Symes, carrot juice

 

Taking Time Out from the Day Job

 The fairy checked and rechecked there was nobody about. As all was clear, as she’d already checked three times, she took out her wand. Its light lit up the street. Still nothing and nobody in sight. Good. She’d been itching to do this for ages but somehow, something or someone (sometimes both) had got in the way.

Reaching her target, she gazed inside its window. There in a display case were the objects of her desire,  just waiting for her to reach out and take them. She checked around again and then aimed her wand at the glass. A hole big enough to for her to reach through appeared. She did reach through and grabbed as many of the objects as she could. The moment she’d finished, the hole healed up and she vanished. It was best not to hang around.

Up in a tree a mile away, the fairy surveyed her haul and picked up the one she most liked the look of. For the next few minutes, all that could be heard in that tree was the sound of the fairy munching away on the biggest bar of Dairy Milk available.

The fairy knew she should be ashamed.

She wasn’t.

And that was despite the fact she was the Tooth Fairy.

 

Starlight and Fairy Dust

 The fairy on the Christmas tree had been in the Smith family for decades. Every year, just before being placed on the tree in the lounge, she’d be given a new dress (as childish hands were never that gentle or clean).

The fairy shuddered as she recalled the year she’d ended up head first in the cranberry sauce jar. That was young Adam having a tantrum. If only that had happened before Christmas Day - she’d have used the starlight to tell Santa and someone would have been on the naughty list for that year.

Still, Mum made Adam clean the fairy. Mum was on the good list for the following year and received a bottle of Chanel Number 5. Mum was thrilled. Dad was less delighted given he hadn’t bought it. That told the fairy to be careful of using magic around humans. These days, she used her powers to influence the thoughts of the chosen humans so they would always think it was their idea to buy a certain gift. She’d been a novice back then.

And now here she was once again at the top of the tree, wearing a sparkling new dress. She liked it. She always liked her new dress. She just knew it wouldn’t remain untorn or food splattered. She’d be doing well to get through Christmas Day itself with the dress in a good state. The boss, the Fairy Queen, would drop by to see how she was doing and always seemed to catch the fairy out just after the latest disaster to hit her precious frock. These wretched random government inspections got everywhere. And there was nothing to say to the boss who would take one look at the splattered dress, raise a regal eyebrow, and vanish.

But maybe this year was different. There was Adam in his usual chair, though it was much bigger now. She watched him rise and come towards the box she lived in for most of the year. To her surprise, he picked her up gently.

‘I know you’re alive,’ he murmured. ‘I put you in that cranberry sauce jar because I wanted to prove you were alive. I thought you’d be bound to react to that.’

The fairy used all her powers to stop herself from reacting now. Humans weren’t supposed to know. How did…?

‘I saw you once. Years ago it was. You moved from the top branch down to look at your reflection in the golden bauble and then hopped back up again.’

She’d been checking out how her latest dress looked, she recalled. What had the boss said about not being vain? Oh well, maybe it served her right to be caught out then.

The fairy jumped out of Adam’s hands and placed herself on the top of the tree.

He smiled. ‘It is okay you know. I’m not putting you in the cranberry sauce again but I would like to make a wish.’

The fairy looked wary.

‘Oh it’s not the endless wishes one or riches or anything like that. I’d like Mum to join me for Christmas one more time, especially now Dad has gone.’

The fairy looked sad. Adam was a grown man now with a wife and children of his own she knew, his father died earlier this year, and his Mum had been in a home for some time now. Dementia, she’d heard someone say.

‘Is she coming here?’ the fairy murmured. She wasn’t supposed to speak to the clientele but she thought the boss would allow an exception here. Dementia was so sad.

‘No. She can’t. I thought I’d take you to see her. She kept that Chanel bottle you know. It’s still in her room now, out of her reach, but where she can see it.’

The fairy smiled. Maybe that had been a better Christmas than she thought then. Maybe there had been a point to the cranberry sauce jar! ‘We had better go then, young Mr Adam. I’ll have no problem with the boss granting that wish. Christmas is special. Will your own family be there?’

‘Of course. I think you granted another wish you know. I wanted to meet someone kind who would get on well with her own family and mine. I couldn’t have asked for more in Sandy. She did so much to try to help Mum before…’

The fairy tapped Adam on the mouth. There were times words were inadequate.

He nodded.

This time the fairy tapped them both on the shoulder. They vanished. It was time to show love while the time was still there to do so.

An Unexpected Stop

'You do know at what speed you were travelling, sir?'

'Er... no... officer, I'm afraid I was concentrating on getting to my next destination. I have to cover everyone on my list, you see, and I don't have much time. Was it important?'

'I'll say so, sir. You will cause chaos flying at that speed. If everyone did that there'd be accidents galore.'

'But, officer, it's Christmas Eve, I'm Santa Claus, there's nobody up here except us and I'd love to know how you got here.'

 

'Have I passed the MOT then, young man?' The elderly gent peered at the guy, who could easily have been his grandson. 'Can I resume my duties now?'

'Oh yes, Grand...er... sir. And you are getting the correct CPM out of your chosen fuel source too.'

'CPM?'

'Carrots Per Mile, sir. You must be feeding your reindeer well.'

The elderly gent smiled. 'Quality will tell;, it always does. I don't suppose there is anything you can do about the lead one's red nose is there? I swear it stands out even in the thickest fog and I know Rudolph is embarrassed by it.'

'Sorry, sir, you will have to go back to the manufacturer on that one.'

The elderly gent sighed. 'That will have to wait. I've got places to go, people to see, and the big boss will want me to get that done first.'

And with that Santa and his reindeer took off as Christmas Eve broke. It would be a busy night.

 

 

Up To Scratch

 'Have I passed the MOT then, young man?' The elderly gent peered at the guy, who could easily have been his grandson. 'Can I resume my duties now?'

'Oh yes, Grand...er... sir. And you are getting the correct CPM out of your chosen fuel source too.'

'CPM?'

'Carrots Per Mile, sir. You must be feeding your reindeer well.'

The elderly gent smiled. 'Quality will tell;, it always does. I don't suppose there is anything you can do about the lead one's red nose is there? I swear it stands out even in the thickest fog and I know Rudolph is embarrassed by it.'

'Sorry, sir, you will have to go back to the manufacturer on that one.'

The elderly gent sighed. 'That will have to wait. I've got places to go, people to see, and the big boss will want me to get that done first.'

And with that Santa and his reindeer took off as Christmas Eve broke. It would be a busy night.

 

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.)