Mysterious Times

Monday – Asteroid day minus seven 

In a small village on the outskirts of Blackburn, Lancashire, an old, battered, red pickup truck was trying to park in the very small space left between a large black Chinese built SUV, and a smaller, bright orange American urban 4×4. The driver managed his task with inches to spare, surprising himself, and he crossed his  chest quickly, pressing his fist to his pursed lips, kissing the ring he had made. Silly he knew, but thank God for small mercies had always been a thing that stuck in his head from being young. His Grandma Alice had always been a bit religious and some of her old ways had stuck with his Mum, and then him. He didn’t bother to lock his truck, he knew most people around, and they knew him, and his truck. It would be safe. Even its cargo on the bed at the back would be safe. He walked into the CO-OP store, reminiscing to himself about how he had first walked in that same shop, holding mother’s hand, to buy some dolly-blues, a box of matches and to find out if the notice for piano lessons was still there. Happy days he thought to himself. He bought a packet of first class stamps at the Post Office counter, grumbled about the price with George the Clerk, who laughed, and then went on to collect a basket and fill it with a bottle of red wine, some Wensleydale cheese, a brown loaf and some cough sweets.“Don’t get any milk or butter today Charlie, I’m fine love.” The words still ringing in his memory, from when he had left the house. He paid, making a double-entendre as usual with Greta behind the till. Her face turned a beautiful pinky-red colour as it always did, and she shooed him away quickly, giggling to herself about “how rude young men are these days…” 

As he walked back to his truck, noticing that both the cars beside it had already moved, he was suddenly struck by a sound wave that pushed him over, straight on to his back. Bang!

Now lay on the floor, he could feel something washing over him, head to toe and hand to hand, his shopping bag lying just out of reach, with the loaf a few inches away from it on the tarmac. 

“What the hell was that?” He screamed, too loudly, to himself. But he received no answer, as his brain was straining to hear anything other than the noise that had taken over in his head. Music? Rhythms? An alarm? Maybe all three he decided, but, there was something about it, a memory, or a half-memory at least. It was a tune now, more than anything else, and “I know it, I know how it goes….I think!”

He picked himself up off the floor, had a look around, no-one had seen, picked up the bag, inspected the bread and ran to his truck. Once inside he had another look round and put his hands to his face, there were tears running from his eyes, and he felt himself sigh a large, tired but happy sigh. “That’s it, I’m losing it!” He laughed, belted up and set the truck in motion, negotiated two Japanese motorbikes parked on his route, and started the drive back to his Mum’s cottage. On the way he turned on the radio, but immediately switched it to play his favourite CD, the Pastoral Symphony, Beethoven’s sixth.. He loved it. The choral parts, the gentle parts and the others, that made him remember his days in Manchester, visiting the Halle with Father, watching enthralled as the string players arms went up and down, up and down, for hours….. But, the sound was still with him, in him, beating through his limbs it seemed. It didn’t scare him, he didn’t really believe it was real -“Bumped my head when I fell didn’t I!” But, then, “..why did I fall?” He shook his head, felt less blurry than he felt he should and turned the symphony up loud.

He speeded the truck up as he hit the outskirts of the village, and flowed into the open countryside. About a mile from Mum’s, he called into his friend Bob’s corner shop.

“Evening Nancy, Bob around? I have a package for him. And I’ll have any bunch of flowers that’s leftover, to drop off with my Mum, think she may like some flowers..” 

“Oooh you are so good to her” Nancy giggled, picking up a large white bunch and holding them up.“These smell nice, they do you?”

“Perfect Nance, almost as perfect as you are. What are they by the way?”“Dunno…. You lovely, sweet talking man you. I just sell what Bob brings back from the market!”

Just then, Bob walked through the back door into the shop, from the house “Eh up – thought I heard your dulcet tones chatting my wife up. What you got for me today mate?”

“The usual Bob. Some pot, some ket and chargers for the kids……all packed and ready to go.” They both laughed at the weekly joke. “Pay me next week, I’m in a rush. I’ll take these flowers too if that’s ok, for my Mum?”“Yeah sure, no probs.” They exchanged bags, shook hands and he walked out and back to the truck. He sat in his seat for a few minutes, the sound in his head was still there while he spoke to Bob and Nancy, but had sat somewhere at the back of his head, not infringing on his thoughts. But now, sat here, alone, he could hardly keep from screaming out, it was ringing, clanging and banging his mind, and it felt like it was thumping through his body too. After a minute it started to subside, allowing him to see, and feel, and hear a bit better.

“Bloody hell. I need to call in at the surgery tomorrow. Get checked out for concussion…”  

Feeling alert again, he drove quickly to his Mother’s home on Johnsty Lane, accompanied by the feeling in his fingers, and the tune in his head.“Hey Ma, I’m back. Got all your stuff.” There was a feeble, unrecognisable answer and he put the bag on her kitchen table and wandered through the pokey little house to the lounge at the back, overlooking her prize winning garden.

“Thanks Alan, You’re such a good boy to me you know. Can you sit with me a bit? Kettle’s hot. Make us a brew and watch the News with me. Yes?” He looked at her, smiled and leant over to turn the small TV on, then passed her the remote and went back to the kitchen to do as he was told. She flicked to the News channel she liked, and muted the sound for now.

“I made you a sarnie Mum, and another cuppa, looks like yours has gone cold….” he said as he returned with two full mugs and a plate sandwich.

“Ooh lovely dear”.

“Aaaand, I saw these and couldn’t resist buying them for you, picked them myself…” he handed over the bunch of flowers with a flourish. His Mum took the, but looked as if they were nettles.

“What’s the matter Mum, don’t you like them?” He watched her, she seemed to be counting the flowers.

“Fourteen white lilies. Alan, you’ve brought fourteen white lilies into the house. It’s double bad luck...You brought death into my house!” She placed the bunch on top of her coffee table, picked up the sandwich and started eating. Staring at him, as he stood, perplexed and bewildered.

“I’m so sorry Ma, I never thought, Shall I get rid of them?” He moved to pick them up, she stopped him though, by gripping his arm.

“It’s too late son, they are here, you brought them in, an even number of funeral flowers. Can’t be undone once done Alan. Death will follow. Sure as sure.” She crossed herself and felt for the crucifix around her neck.

He couldn’t tell if she was terrified or making it all up. She was very superstitious, but also loved to tease, so you always had to check.. “Mum, you ok?” 

She smiled at him, nodded. “I’m fine Alan Son, fine. I’m eighty-three, had a good life, if it comes for me, well I’ve been counting each new day since your father passed on. Think I’ve had a good run. Turn the sound up for me will you love, from the pictures it looks like something exciting is happening….”

“Ok. I’m so sorry if the flowers have upset you Mum. Last thing I wanted was to do that!” He grabbed the remote, fiddled with it and unmuted just as the News Roundup was about to start. The News Reader looked very solemn. 

“Good Evening, and we start with the Major Headline that has rocked the world – An Asteroid of substantial size has been found by monitoring teams in multiple countries, and seems to be heading on a collision course with Earth. No-one is saying how this has not been noticed before now, but our Science Correspondent, Ethra Dyanna, will be with us soon to answer some of your questions. For now, Sit tight, try not to panic, and keep tuned for updates and any Official News…..” 

“I told you them bloody fourteen white lilies were bad luck Alan!”

Alan – shaking now, looked back at her, stood up and walked towards the back of the TV. He stooped to remove the plug from its socket, turning the TV off. He could feel the surge of the strange tune in his head, see it behind his eyes. It was telling him something, he couldn’t grasp what, but he would. 

“Mum, I’m going home, I’ll lock your door. Read a book or something, I need to do some research on this news, see if it’s correct. I’ll come back in the morning and we’ll chat. OK?”Alan walked to his car, got in and turned the radio on, he fiddled for the News and found the end of a bulletin. He listened, shivering. It was true….. They had about a week before…… He closed his eyes and let the tune in his head lull him for a while….. 

“I know how this goes” he mouthed.

A short story prequel for the upcoming book ‘I know this goes!’ All rights owned by Mysterious Times Author Simon Axford