Tuesday Tiny Tale – When The Sun Goes Down

Sundown seemed to come early, but it turned out I was actually dead, which came as a bit of a surprise. It was a pretty sky, but not as dramatic as one might expect for one’s last sunset.

The sky faded away imperceptibly and I was left standing, standing where? A station concourse with many other figures standing around looking confused. Nobody spoke and we all avoided looking at each other, so we were left staring at the multitude of signs, like the London Underground only more confusing. Which direction to choose? I naturally edged towards those in English, or rather those that included English amongst other languages.

CHRISTIAN

So we/they were right all along? No hang on Muslim, Hindu, Atheists… they were in for a surprise… Jews, Agnostics, Jainism…

I decided Christian might be the logical choice, but as I stepped forward three more signs came up… Catholic, Orthodox, Protestant… surely earthly divisions didn’t continue in the higher realms? I decided it would have to be Protestant and when Church of England and nonconformist signs lit up, C of E seemed the sensible choice, though I should really have gone with agnostic.

A guide floated into view and called Christine Brown. I nodded, I couldn’t seem to find my voice.

That was hopeful, perhaps there had been a mistake and I was not dead yet, after all I was in good health.

1963

‘Phew, I knew there must have been a mistake, you mean I’m not dead?’

‘But I was Christened, named after the Good Lord himself and I’m English, it’s our established faith, you have to let me in.’

But I went to Sunday School, I was in Pathfinders and I’m always at the church, well I meet my friends in the Refectory Tearooms.’

‘I was at the free lunchtime organ concert only last week.’

‘And that was the last time she set foot in a church!’

I laughed at my own joke, but the higher being did not have a sense of humour.

I suddenly felt chilled to my core, this wasn’t a dream, this was real, how did this being know so much about me? Perhaps I should have been more humble.

‘Please forgive me, I did not mean to be rude, it’s just a shock, being dead. Could you please tell me where I should go.’

‘But I don’t und…’

I was alone, he had faded away and as I spun round in confusion I saw more signs. GAIA, thank goodness, that was where I belonged.

‘I am pretty sure I belong here, I am environmentally friendly, I watch David Attenborough, I’ve rewilded my garden and built an insect hotel and a hedgehog door. I do feel closer to God in the garden.’

‘I try to catch them, I can’t stop them coming in… and I never kill spiders or even ants… I’m not sure what more I could have done.’

I felt a wave of warmth.

‘Oh, thank goodness, what did I do?’

‘Little me gone can’t make much difference…’

Happy April – Thursday Tiny Tale – Reursinement

As it is past noon in some places you know this story is true and not an April Fool

Her Majesty’s minister barely read the title of the document ‘Reursinement – Natural Culling’ before scanning the paragraphs…environmentally sustainable…ecological balance… and signing his name. His constituents and the Forestry Commission should be delighted, fewer complaints about car accidents, trampled gardens or ruined saplings.

Operation Goldilocks took place at night, the team quickly assessed their new environment; those experiencing freedom for the first time guided by the migrants from North Eastern Europe.

Nearby, a stag sniffed the night air and felt a primeval fear.

Days later the news headlines read ‘Walker Killed as Bears Introduced to Beauty Spot Without Public Consultation.

Friday Flash Fiction 500 – Biodegradable

Cauldrons bubbled, paddles stirred, pumps rose and fell. The dye selector scurried along seeking indigo and sunflower to make that special shade of green for Familyfresh.

Malcolm Rust loved machinery and money, in that order. Childhood visits to industrial museums had given him a love of pistons and presses. The only history he was interested in at school was of Victorian valleys filled with furnaces and engineering entrepreneurs making a mint, so they could build great houses on top of hills looking down on their wealth. His weekends as a teenager had been spent scouring the country for redundant factory equipment and thinking of money making projects to fund his hobby.

He had no interest in the environment, except as the provider of water courses to power mills, until he met Melissa. She worked with his mother at the new Veganarium that had replaced the cheese and bacon shop. His mother needed a job, but for Melisa it was her whole way of life.

As far as Malcolm was concerned food was fuel, the same as coal, wood and diesel for his beloved machines. But as Melissa chattered on about recipes for allergen free biscuits and biodegradable wrappers, he thought he might find a way to her heart. Why not make the biscuits and packets with the same recipe? It was time to investigate corn starch and fructose.

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Now he was no longer Mr Rust, but Mr Green, inventor of the edible carrier bag and three days ago Melissa had become Mrs. Green. Channel Four was making a documentary about their plans for a perfect Ecohouse with living walls.

But no sooner had the carrier bags become familiar in every supermarket than the first criticisms began to appear on social media. Members of the public no longer had to feel guilty about plastic or litter; discarded sweet wrappers, takeaway boxes and shopping bags would all be eaten by wildlife, from snails to deer. In fact the carrier bags were so delicious, passing dogs were liable to take a bite out of your shopping.

Then came the first news story from the Familyfresh Fairtrade supermarket. Overnight, all the bundles of new carrier bags had disappeared from the store room. The first clue to the mystery came when three large rats scampered across the feet of the store manager. He ran out into the main store, only to see several more rats slip away from the checkouts. The second clue was the remnant of a carrier bag hanging limply, serrated with huge teeth marks.

A meeting of COBRA * was called after pest exterminators made urgent reports of supersized rats, gardeners posted pictures on Facebook of giant snails and a photograph appeared on breakfast television of a fox the size of a deer hound. Malcolm was summoned to reveal the ingredients of his carrier bags…

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*Cobra stands for Cabinet Office briefing room A. Cobra meetings are held in Downing Street to plan government responses in times of emergency.