The Frog's Pad Collection Read online

  But suddenly something happened – and Pete stood back, his smile dropping from his face and colour drained from his cheeks. A human head, a female with golden hair, suddenly appeared in front of him. Her eyes were shut – but then they opened and stared, cold staring eyes straight into Pete’s. And then the head smiled! A hand appeared and waved! The head looked up and like a rocket shot up vertically – the colour flash quickly followed!

  Pete stood dumbfounded, staring at the glass. There was no way he had just seen that, he decided. This was far too freaky weird for a Tuesday. But then the head slowly drifted back down – the eyes looked quizzically at Pete again, before looking up and then woosh (or rather a silent whoosh). Pete looked at the top of the tank. The head was smiling and looking down at him. With a beckoning hand, she waved Pete up – and that music started, mournful, enticing, captivating – encouraged Pete to climb the inspection steps to the top of the pool. When he got there, this beautiful water creature was there, ready for him, smiling. She held out her hand – and the soulful music, so enticing, so hypnotising, so distracting – made Pete reach out for it. As they held hands she smiled – and he smiled back. He then stepped into the water tank.

  Bob was first to arrive at the aquarium in the morning. His head was a little sore from the night’s drinking, but was immediately suspicious that the main door was unlocked. “Hello?” he called out.

  Bob carefully walked round the aquarium – everything seemed in order, everything as it was last night. He climbed the steps to the office… everything was as it was last night; Pete’s magazine was lying discarded on the desk, the delivery screen was blinking on the computer to complete the transaction – and Pete’s jacket was still hanging on the back of the chair.

  “Oh come on Pete, what’s happened to you?”

  Suddenly the desk made a buzzing sound and a few papers started to move. Bob moved the papers – Pete’s phone was ringing. He noted on the screen it said “Julie”. Without thinking, he answered.

  “WELL THANKS FOR NOTHING” a female voice shouted down the line. “THREE HOURS I WAITED FOR YOU AND YOU COULDN’T BE BOTHERED TO SHOW. WHAT WAS IT… MORE FISH?”

  “Err, Julie?” Bob tried to cut in.

  “BOB? WHY ARE YOU ON THE PHONE? Have I dialled the wrong number?”

  “No, you dialled Pete’s number. Pete’s not here – no I have no idea where he is. Everything is here –keys, this phone, his jacket – just not him. I don’t know what’s happened, he’s so good at telling me where he’s…”

  A scream cut through the air, visceral, loud, insistent.

  “Julie – I’ve got to go; I’ve no idea what’s just happened, but it seems I’m in charge right now. I’ll phone you back.” Bob hung up and rushed out the office.

  Samantha and Mike were at the holding tank, peering into the glass. Mike was holding Samantha who looked clearly distressed. Brian came running from the main tanks with a long pole.

  “I’ll get it” said Brian.

  “Get what?” asked Bob.

  Mike turned his head. “Samantha said she saw someone in the holding tank. We’re just checking it out now.”

  “OK.” Bob looked at his watch. “We’d better delay opening for the minute.”

  Brian was at the top of the tank, pole in the water. “I’ve got something, I’ve… oh no. Oh, god no. I’m going to be… blerrggh” Brian was immediately sick into the tank – the top of the water was suddenly a feeding frenzy as the 200 fish came to the surface to feed. Bob quickly climbed the stairs; Brian was regaining his composure.

  “What was it?” asked Bob.

  “Hang on, I’m going to try again” replied Brian.

  With more care and control, Brian carefully moved the pole around until it caught on something. He carefully started to pull the pole up – it was a body. Bob moved in to grab hold; he got a firm grip on the jacket and heaved it out. Already, he knew the worst. He turned the corpse over. It was Pete. But he was smiling – a fixed smile, permanently etched to his face.

 

  Weeks passed. There had been an inquest – the coroner had declared that Pete had taken his own life, but there was some confusion and concern at the state of the corpse – it was as if something was missing from the body, but yet it was all present, said the report. Bob had cleared up the problems with the dispatch notes and had sorted out all of Pete’s affairs. The holding tank was been processed and cleared – although Samantha had noted two very peculiar fish as she moved them through to the main tanks. They had such strange markings, like a luminescent glow in the tail – and they had seemed happy somehow in each other’s company. They did try to separate the two apart – but no matter how much they tried it had been impossible – so they decided to just let it be and hoped that (like so many other fish) they wouldn’t just turn and fight each other.

  The delivery van left. Bob stood where Pete had stood weeks before and shouted down to the rest of the team “I’ll be with you in a few minutes! Get me a cold one!” Everyone smiled and the team headed out to the pub. Bob stood facing the computer.

  “Better get on with this quickly then” he thought – and then he stopped. There was a sound – a musical sound, coming from the main hall. He looked out and it continued. He climbed down the steps, following the call. He got to the main tank, entranced by the call. He stood, watching the fish, when a female’s head appeared at the glass. Bob was about to fall back when a male head appeared next to it! Bob’s face started to drain as he realised – he knew who that male was… it was Pete! Pete smiled, as did the female. They looked at each other and then back at Bob, who was stood dumbfounded. They waved and smiled – and like a robot Bob waved back. Then with a flash of colour, they were gone.

  Bob stood staring at the tank. He could not make sense of what he had just seen. Then the music started again – this time from the holding tank. He walked almost in a trance, back to the tank, where another lady, with long blond hair was staring from inside the tank. She smiled and darted upwards. Bob looked up at the top of the tank and the beautiful lady looking down. She smiled and held out her hand. In a trance, Bob started to climb the ladder to the top of the tank….

  OO - - OO

  Generation Zero

  I’d been reading some Science Fiction comics and a Steampunk novel whilst staying in York; wandering through the old streets of York this confused jumble of ideas brought forward this:

  “I thought I’d jot the following notes down into my diary – you know, just in case my writings become popular and future readers want to know more about my life once I’m long gone – you know, like those really old writers and poets… Milton, William Shakespeare, Ben Elton, Dan Brown; well, you get my drift.

  “Well it’s the year commonly known as Zero Plus Ten and the new world order has really got underway. Just in case someone hasn’t picked up, there was a new calendar started ten years ago to replace the previous one (although it was only ten years ago, I think the last one finished about 2038CE or similar – doesn’t matter now). It was a global decision to have a standardised time the world over, mainly because the world now works all day, every day without a break. The fact that a warehouse in America is controlled by computers in Belgium with the operations managers based in France meant that using the international date format started to become irrelevant. Back in the previous years, I seem to recall a watch company coming up with a standard time stamp… well, it’s now a reality. This new era was called Generation Zero because of a stupid throwaway statement by the global president; he said “with robots running our shops, our factories, our industries, mankind is now no longer needed; we are the Generation Zero.” Of course, it isn’t wholly true – mankind is still needed, but mostly to watch the computer screens to confirm a robotic decision or to fix a broken computer – or more commonly to be a part of the growing leisure industry.

  “I was lucky – at least I think I am; I decided about fif
teen years ago to become what is now known as a “crash-worder”; in oldern times it was a writer of short stories. No-one reads full length stories anymore – just don’t have the attention span, the time or even the intelligence. In fact my job is fast becoming obsolete as the spoken word becomes far more popular than ever – and even brevity is praised on this. I think I saw on my phone that the number one crash-word story has now been far ecplised by it being translated into crash-audio and the author is planning to never write again; just bang another pencil nail into that coffin.

  “As I said, I got out – so I have my own accommodation, my own space. It’s a lovely little cottage in the middle of nowhere; I have the upstairs and a couple live below. I think at one time one person had the whole place to themselves… can’t believe it now. Mind you, this isn’t the idyll that many settle for. Most workers now live at their work – cubicles have beds above them so the workers can be available 24/7 and travel is down to zero; perfect for hanging onto your job. Also, the factories and offices are better climate controlled than ever before – with the erosion of the ozone layer the suns rays are more intense, so bio-domes have been created with embedded solar panels in the glass – these power the factories and the aircon units – constant pleasant temperatures. Our cottage is in a “country bio-dome” – so as well as a couple of cottages we share with the hydroponic plants and animals. It’s great – we get a mixture of wet and dry, heat and cold, light and dark. I know for many city folk they just like the one setting – saves on clothes buying – but for me it’s the closest I’ll get to how my family once lived (at least, that’s how I think they lived).

  “But although people are much closer to work, and working longer hours (well, there’s no pension any more or public healthcare, so you work – or you die) the global working initiative still insists on the working week being no longer than six and a half days – with each working day being no longer than fifteen hours in length. This means that the time off is spent relaxing far more intensely – and this is the target time for me, selling my short crash-words to those who want to read them. I‘ve had to come into the city to see my publishing editor – normally we do our business over video conferencing, but he wanted to show me the latest box that would translate my story into crash-audio – the ultimate cross-over device (and something that would keep me in business). Because I’m not limited to my working week (I write, I get paid) I can also look round the city – inspiration for the next story. I’d found a favourite haunt of mine, an old public house which was now a caffeine-shop (I remember sitting here and drinking a cold beer; now everyone dashes down the latest energy-buzz drink so they don’t waste their R&R). The décor is still the same, cosy little booths amongst the dark wood and…”

 

  I looked up from my notepad. I saw in the booth opposite a young red-headed lady in obvious distress. A slim-framed worker was looking a little too eager, desperate for something and he was tugging at her arm. She was trying to pull away. I could see that the worker really hadn’t spent any time in the gym or in fitness training – his shirt hung off his skeletal arms and she clearly had more strength than he had.

  “You will come now!” said the man, raising his voice. I looked round, everyone else staring hard at the tables in their own booths, not wanting to get involved – if only because they didn’t want to waste their spare time – but also because there was no police force in operation these days and we were reliant on the army (trained to shoot and kill) to police the streets. It was like letting a fox look after the chicken shed, as my great grandmother was fond of saying.

  I couldn’t let this continue. I had nothing better to do – and a sense of chivalry kicked in. So I stood up and walked over.

  “Let her go, man” I said “or just talk – I’m sure you don’t have time to waste these days.”

  The girl looked up at me, her face frozen with the last of her words hanging in the air. She blinked. The man let go and spun round.

  “Frag off – nuthin for you here to bother with – unless you want to cause something?”

  I was stunned at this guy’s attitude. Even if I say so myself, I keep myself pretty fit – brain works better when the blood flows round it freely; so I used martial arts to keep my mind firing quickly.

  “Just ease back – don’t want to cause trouble; but that lady doesn’t want what you’re offering.”

  “I pay her, she does what I want. I mean, where you from? Pre-Zero?”

  I looked across at the red-head and she looked down. Ah, I thought, she’s in the leisure industry too – I guess we all get our money from somewhere. Change of tact, I thought.

  “I’m sure what you’re asking for is more than she’s prepared to offer – or are you being cheap?”

  “Told you – frag off. What I want from her is none of your business.”

  OK, that’s it. This guy is really bugging me. I wanted a quiet drink, but this guy thinks that because he works in an office he can determine everyone’s time off. Enough.

  “Look, I just want a quiet place to think and you’re starting to ruin that. Can you please just let it – and her – go….”

  I hadn’t seen the two big guys in the corner. She had – and her eyes flashed upon them. The first hooked my arm and spun me round – the second laid into my stomach. It didn’t feel like a punch – it felt deeper. My stomach felt warm, wet – and I felt the strength leave my body. I didn’t see any more.

 

  Rachel:

  I’d not seen this client before. I really didn’t like what he was offering, or what he was offering to pay me for it either. Brian, my manager, had said that we could argue some control, but ultimately we had to go along with whatever was asked for – or it would cost him (Brian) money, clearing up after his “security team”. His “security team” went everywhere with us girls – I think to make sure that we followed Brian’s instructions, but also because I think they enjoyed sorting out these problems.

  So this client’s asking – I’m saying no – then this stranger comes up. This has never happened before – I’ve never been thought of as anything other than what I am. And here he is, this dashing stranger. Of course, the “security team” are on it. I’m on my own again, with Brian “looking after” me. Waiting for the next white knight. I saw his book on the desk opposite – perhaps in my time off I could try crash-words, or even crash-audio, sounds fun.

  Oh, and in case you were wondering, the security team also made the client “go away” too. As they used to say, pre-Zero, there’s never any Police around.

  OO - - OO

  The Tomb of Tut-Ankh-Ra

  I had an idea to write a collection of “Black Crane” short stories – perhaps one day it will see the light. Until then, enjoy this story. My inspiration for this came from a small Lego model…

  Black Crane sat back in the arm chair in his drawing room with Commander Kimble, Lady Millicent and Lady Audrey.

  “What’s with the crystal on the shelf?” asked Lady Millicent “it’s unlike you to have such a trinket.”

  “Oh that” replied the Black Crane “That was a souvenir from a long-dead Egyptian king”

  “A souvenir? What, he gave it to you from his own boney fingers?”

  “Actually – yes he did. It goes back about ten or so years when I spent time in Egypt. The date isn’t specific but we’d sailed from Southampton around the May of that year. The trip was smooth and we dropped anchor just off the coast. We then transferred to a small skiff to sail into the harbour.

  “We moored the small skiff against the dockside. I got out and made the arrangements for all my suitcases to be taken to the dig site. I’d been sent an invitation by Professor Willis – a good friend of mine from many years ago. He’d taken up archaeology and in particular had been become quite interested in Egyptian myths. Studying a scroll he’d discovered years before he had become alerted to a carved cave a little way from the more
popular sites and had made arrangements with the local authorities to investigate the contents. The cave had lain undetected for many years – there was a popular story that the cave was haunted, a curse having been placed on it. Anyway, I’d been invited to help the professor unseal the tomb and document what had been found.”

  Lady Millicent couldn’t hold back.

  “What story? I’m sure that’s important!”

  “Actually Millicent, it is important. The Emperor, Tut-Ankh-Ra, was a clever Emperor and had managed to carefully explore trade routes and developed strong communications with all the countries around. However he was also very astute and didn’t want to broaden his holdings; instead he would work to strengthen bonds with those rulers. There were neighbour rulers who thought Tut-Ankh-Ra was weak and simple and attempted to build on their lands and attacked. Tut-Ankh-Ra would be quick to stop the attack and would then quietly arrange for that ruler to meet with a quick end – it was always carefully arranged to look like natural causes or death from another course. That country would find a new ruler and the advisors would caution against the wrath and hex from Tut-Ankh-Ra. His followers thought he was the incarnation of Ra, the sigil of the Ankh was worn proudly by all his people that they would live forever in his kingdom.