The Door to the Past

'And this,' the voice said, 'is the door to the past.'

'I'm frightened to go through,' she said

'You are already in there,' it said with a comforting tone.

She knew that voice but couldn’t place it, but she knew she felt warmed by it.

She stepped through the doorway and saw herself at her birthday party. She couldn’t remember her age, five maybe six? She saw herself laughing as she opened the present. She remembered what it was before her young self had got the wrapping paper off. It was that doll.

The party faded and a new vision, it was her aged fifteen with Chris her first real boyfriend. Oh my god, she almost blushed as she remembered what this was. It was her first real kiss. ‘Please don’t fade away, please don’t…’

Too late, now it was her driving her first car. Wait, that was quite recent. She could hear her friends giggling in the back and Karen sitting next to her shouting ‘Selfie’

Before it could fully fade the voice spoke again, ‘back through the door now.’ Over the fading noise of her friends she remembered how she knew that voice, it was her mother. A bright white light blinded her eyes and she was confused, her mother was dead.

She heard a male voice shout ‘clear’ then a jolt and then the sound of a single note

The voice spoke again

‘Mr Flint? Mr Matlock Flint?’

I walked into the office, glanced out of the dirt-streaked windows then rounded my tattered desk before flopping back into my grubby chair. The day started as it always did.

There was no use asking my secretary for a coffee to kick start the system and help reduce the pounding in my head. I haven't got a secretary, haven't had one since the work began to dry up and that was almost three years ago.

I pushed the chair away from the stained leather-top desk and put my feet up onto its surface knocking a pile of papers to the floor in the process. I muttered a blasphemy under my breath. My shoes had seen better days and one let in water when it rained but I didn’t have the money or energy to get them repaired.

Finally I got up and went over to a dented metal four drawer filing cabinet and pulled open the second down. I reached inside and lifted out a half bottle of scotch. What little sun that could make its way through window grime illuminated the bottle showing it was empty.

The bottle was thrown toward the metal bin and I let out an expletive at the top of my voice. As silence descended and a sense of utter frustration filled me I heard a light cough from behind me.

I turned to face the door and saw what could have been a vision produced by my desperate mind. The vision spoke,

‘Mr Flint? Mr Matlock Flint?’

I just about managed to stop myself from falling back and muttered back a response ‘Who’s asking?’

‘Forgive me for just barging in but your secretary wasn’t at her desk and I needed to see you.’

I pointed to the seat the other side of the desk before realising it held a stack of unfiled papers. Without even a pause she lifted the pile onto the desk and sat. She crossed her legs in that way that instantly shows breeding in one simple graceful move.

I sat and pulled my chair nearer to the desk. One of the wheels snagged in a rip in the carpet making what should have been a smooth elegant movement a jerky desperate shuffle. Once I had settled myself I leant forward and asked ‘How can I help?’

‘It’s a mess,’ she said quietly, her eyes glancing down to her lap, ‘A real mess. A friend told me that you might be able to …….’ She paused and glanced up at me. I melted, I’d do whatever I could to sort this little lady’s problem out.

‘Tell me what’s wrong,’ I said in as calm a voice as my body could muster.

‘I think it’s easier I show you,’ she said reaching into her handbag and lifting out some Polaroids that she pushed across the desk. I wanted to take them from her hand, to be able to touch the milky white skin but instead my fingers dragged on the grubby leather.

I sat back and turned the first photograph over. Even though I’m a professional I think she saw the instant reaction in my face. I tried to steady myself as I looked at the other seven.

‘Well?’ she asked

‘You’re right, it’s a mess, a real mess.’ I had seen scenes like this all my working life but this, this was almost indescribable. I paused and looked at the photos again and let my mind think. Finally I spoke again.

‘I might be able to sort this out. I might be able to clean up your …… mess.’

‘But the stains,’ she said.

‘Leave that to me, I might have friends who can help there. Now let’s talk about my fee.’

It felt good to be back in work, I was a Tile Grout Troubleshooter and never truly alive unless I was grouting

The Little Wooden Cockerel

The little wooden cockerel stared at his little wooden legs and sighed. Without hinges at the knees he just couldn’t walk. He sat in the sunshine and puzzled as to how he could resolve this knotty issue.

The shadows cast by the bright sun of his wooden legs were sharp and clear on the ground. As he looked at them he began to hatch a plan as to how he might solve his ingrained problem. He just needed to be able to see his legs in more detail.

Using the tips of his wooden wings he carefully took out one of his shiny glass eyes and held it in front of the other to use as a tiny magnifying glass. As the sun danced through the lens he could see where and how he might just be able create knees.

The sun’s sharp rays danced and focussed on his wooden legs as he thought and pondered. In fact it was only the smell of burning that awoke him from his reverie. The Little Wooden Cockerel wanted to run from his burning legs, wanted to scream from his little wooden beak but it was too late.

Within a matter of moments the little wooden cockerel was just a pile of ash. Sometimes life isn't kneesy.

What, where and when? What do you think

It had been their struggle and theirs alone because those that they had talked with thought the idea was quite simply absurd.

For many years they had discussed over drinks the state of world, the folly of the human race, the greed, avarice and the destruction of the planet. Their passion for science meant that these weren’t conversations of doom but rather about what could be done.

It was during these late night moments that an idea was born, an idea so ridiculous that they next day they didn’t mention it. Indeed it was only when they were sitting in their laboratory the following week that they diffidently began an awkward conversation.

An adjunct to the fourth dimension, the potential to place something, an object back in time. A chance to change history perhaps, to make things better by providing something that might change everything. So they began their work to develop a 3d printer that could travel in time.

They weren’t so confident that they could place the printer back at an exact time which was why they weren’t sending actual objects. The printer would give them the flexibility to respond to where and when they were with what the time and the situation needed.

So, where and when would they go first and what would they produce?

The Tiny Giants - 4

He was, it must be said, down on his luck. In fact, he had been down on his luck for some time. If he hadn't been he wouldn't have been scraping along the ground looking for food. Dragging his foot along the side of the pavement his tattered boot kicked out a nut which rolled ahead before settling in the gutter.

Mike bent to pick up the nutshell and shook it by his ear. He had been disappointed too often in life and didn't want to get excited about the potential for any form of nourishment until he heard the tell tale rattle of the nut seed inside the shell.

The sound was there but even that didn't mean certain success. The nut could have gone mouldy inside the shell and there was still the issue of breaking the shell without shattering the seed to dust.

He looked round and found a half brick then placed the nut shell in a small indent on top of a garden wall. Gently he tapped until finally he saw a crack appearing. He lifted the nut into his hand and inserted his grubby thumbnails into the opening and prised it apart making sure to hold the nut over the wall so the seed inside could not fall away.

He bent so he could see the contents as he gently tipped the two halves only to stagger back when it emptied onto the top of the wall. There, shouting and swearing at him was a tiny, tiny man, well, so tiny that he could fit into a nutshell.

Despite his small stature his language was ripe and aggressive. After what felt like an age of abuse from the little man Mike lent forward and blew him off his feet and onto his arse. Before the next colourful tirade Mike spoke.

"Now listen you little foul mouthed shit, I didn't know you were in there. How would I, it was a nutshell. Now I've had a bloody awful day, well year, well life if I'm being honest and the last thing I need when I'm so hungry I was looking forward to eating the contents of that shell is you shouting and swearing at me.

Mike, paused and looked at the little man who was staring up at him. 'Hello, I'm Mike,' he said wondering to reach forward a hand but realising that the little man was no bigger than his fingernail.

Suddenly it hit him. 'Oh God,' he sighed, 'I'm hallucinating through hunger.'

The little man spoke, 'No, no, I'm here and I might be able to help you and I'm sorry I was so rude but I've been hidden in that shell for over 1000 years.'

'Who are you?' Said Mike still unsure as to whether to believe his eyes or mind.

The little man paused before speaking and when he did he spoke with hushed tones as if nervous anyone should overhear.

'I am Breknoc, the fourth of the last tiny Giants.'

'Tiny Giants', said Mike, the oxymoron rebounding around his head like pinball.

The tiny Giant hushed him looking fearful. 'For generations we have been hunted, four of us were chosen to hide, to keep the secrets. I can grant you one wish before I go to hide again. Close your eyes and make sure that whatever you wish for is what you really want and make sure that it will help you for life.'

Mike closed his eyes and thought. At first he came up with the obvious, enough money for a lifetime, everlasting wishes, to be young enough to start again. After a while it became clear that despite everything that had happened to him he was not selfish. Finally he knew what to wish for, he wanted a world where no one suffered.

He opened his eyes ready to speak and stared at where the little man had been but he was not there. Mike knew at once he had imagined it all.

Running through the grass the little man giggled at what he had done

Never forget that the Tiny Giants can be cruel bastards.

The Strange Shadow

You will hardly notice it, it’s so small at first, but it starts on the day you delay doing something. Doesn’t matter why you delay doing what you should do, unless the reason is true.

Whether it’s fear, laziness, procrastination or any other poor reason it doesn’t matter, just know that the shadow starts then, at that very moment when the sun is still high in the sky of your life and lighting your ability to do the task.

As the days go by and you fail to start or finish the job in hand the shadow grows longer behind you. As you step into each new day the shadow lengthens, its origination pinned firmly to the ground of that day and the weight of what you haven’t done.

Oh why do we postpone so long, why do we vacillate, why do we seek out other things to obscure the very task that is weighing any real progress down?

Beware and know that the shadow you see behind you reaching back into your past is also slowly creeping inexorably up your back towards your mind. It will drain your confidence, question your worth, it will make you forget what you once knew if you had just done the task when it first presented itself. It will make the task feel insurmountable and all the more so because your feet are weighed with the lead shoes made from the knowledge you should have done it when it was the time.

And look, can you see that shadow beginning to seep from you into the future. It begins to affect what you believe you can achieve. The brightness and vibrancy of the colour of your life is dimmed by the grey from your shadow of past.

We all have those shadows of varying lengths. Look at them, don’t pretend they are not there. Identify those that are holding you back, those that are pegged so firmly in the ground that any true step forward is impossible. Then plan.

Work out which you can loosen on your own and which need the help of others and ask. You are loved and friends will be there to help the minute you face the shadows of your past that are colouring your future.

Only you can change the sun that is setting on your horizon into your new dawn.