//[[index|Index to pages]]// ======An elephant in the room====== {{:cwc:fnuntitled-300x179.png?300x179}} A cloud obscured the moon. The soft gentle silvery light faded away. The shadows of the gravestones cutting their way through the silvery light melted, and the dog in the distance stopped barking. Everything was still. Even the gentle breeze that had wafted through the old yew tree slowed to a standstill. The man stopped his breathing to listen intently. He could hear nothing except the beating of his own heart as he peered into the darkness. He was sure he had seen something in the middle distance amongst the stones, but now it could not be seen. He was tense. He knew for sure it was something and it was large. It was the sort of certainty that you convince yourself of when you aren’t really sure at all. Then a deep voice whispered in his ear. “If you don’t start breathing you will soon be mine.” “Did you hear that?” the man said, in a shocked voice, to no-one in particular. “Yes”, came the deep reply, “it was me.” A strange bony limb rested on his shoulder and he flinched. The limb rattled a little. The cloud moved on. The moonlight returned. But now instead of a gentle silver it was cold ice white. He shivered. “It’s OK” said the deep voice. “It’s not your turn today. You can breathe again… for now.” Inside he was shaking. His innards were like jelly, but not the nice kind that you find at children’s parties. Rather the kind the develops around putrifying flesh. His shiver turned into a shudder, not that he could tell the difference. “Calm yourself” said the deep voice, but the quality of the voice just made him shake even more. He was totally confused. Was he supposed to shiver or shudder or shake. His mind was racing around in meaningless circles as if to try to avoid the elephant in the room, or rather, the graveyard. He slowly turned. This particular elephant was carrying a long scythe and somehow through eyeball-less sockets was smiling. **“** I hesitate to tell you” it said, “but I am…” “It’s OK, I know who you are. It’s Hallowe’en and you’re Tim Jones from number 23 trying to get at me aren’t you. You’ve always…” “No, no, I’m…” “Then you must be my old schoolteacher Mister Smith. I hated you then, and now you want to get your own back.” “No, no ,no!….” His mind was racing again as memories of all the people who might bear him a grudge tumbled into it from the buckets into which they had been shovelled years before in the hope they would disappear into forgotten history. The black fugue in his mind was worse than any horror story. “No, I am death”, said the elephant. “Oh thank goodness!”, the man replied. “Hmm that’s not the usual reaction I get.”, said the elephant waving the scythe aimlessly in his trunk. “Oops, nearly got you there. That would have been a mistake. I was only out for a walk, so I didn’t bring the bier.” “Beer?” the man asked, “you drink beer?” “No don’t be silly. Well yes actually I do, but I was talking about the cart for carrying your corpse. You aren’t supposed to die today. I would have been in terrible trouble if I’d cut you down. There would have been no end of paper work too. You just wouldn’t believe the bureaucracy we have on the other side of the great vale.” “You mean there really is a veil you pass under?” “No, you misunderstand, look over there in the distance. You see those hills the other side of the valley, that’s our domain.” Of course the man didn’t. All was blackness over there. But the shaking, or shivering, or shuddering had stopped. His mind wasn’t racing now. He felt a kind of profound serenity. He had never felt this before. The elephant noticed his sudden quietude. “Oh don’t worry about that. That’s me, I do that to people. It’s part of the dying thing. It stops them screaming so much. I can’t stand the screams, can you?” The man tried to answer but somehow felt transfixed. In the distance the dog was howling, keeping the rising wind company as it whipped around the church steeple making its own sad night howl. “Let’s go inside” said the elephant, breaking the man’s trance, “It’s warmer in the church. I feel the cold you know. It’s from my past. I used to live in Africa. I have no idea why they gave me this patch to look after. Winter all year long if you ask me.” The man ducked the flailing scythe again and followed the elephant into the church. The door creaked as he pushed it open. It creaked the way a door does when it’s not been opened for a hundred years. Inside, the man thought it was colder, but the elephant seemed happy – which he thought unusual for death. Surely it must be a soul destroying job. The man sat in a pew. The elephant sat on the stone floor in one of the aisles. “What are you doing” asked the elephant as the man thumbed his way through an imaginary rosary. “Ohhhh” he trumpeted in sudden realisation, “you’re a catholic. That explains a lot. Well thank the lord fourfold I didn’t get you with the scythe. Our own paperwork is bad enough but the inter-denominational stuff is sheer hell.” The elephant shuddered as he thought of it. “It’s OK” said the man, resting his hand on the elephant’s bony shoulder, “I could always have converted if it made that much difference to you.” “Really!” The elephant was shocked. No-one had ever said that to him before. “Convert. Would you? Just for me?” “Well said the man, does it really matter. We’re all the same in the end aren’t we. All these differences are rubbish. To be honest, if I was going right now, I’d be relieved. I mean who wants to live in a world where there are all these false divisions. I’d be better off dead.” “You think so?” said the elephant. “Let me tell you, the squabbles we have on the other side make your lot look like a herd of happy sheep”, he said, his trunk drooping. The scythe clattered to the floor. “I don’t want to go back” he said. There was a tear forming in the left eye socket. “I came over this side seeking asylum you know, but no-one will take me – I don’t have the right paperwork apparently. **** I just gave up **** trying you know. I was a member of the death peace corps for a while, until I discovered that they were the ones actually fomenting the dissent. That sort of thing makes you give up hope.” “I know what you mean” said the man. “I tried the same thing. I was a Liberal Democrat.” “You were definitely on a loser there” said the elephant, “but I appreciate the sentiment.” “That’s what they all said.” said the man. “For a long time I didn’t believe them, but they were right. So now what do we do. It’s no good over here, and it’s no good over there.” “Well” said the elephant, “I didn’t bring the bier but I did bring the beer. Have you got a bottle opener?” “No, sorry” said the man. They both sat glumly looking at the dusty, empty altar in silence. Having never previously visited a church, the man was not sure why the elephant started approaching the altar. He didn’t seem to be doing it with reverence. Then he snuffled his trunk under the fading tattered velvet and then trumpeted in victory. “Got it” the elephant said and walked backed in much better spirit brandishing the combined corkscrew and bottle opener. Meantime, in a school across town, a nativity play was about to start. The audience was seated. Proud but apprehensive parents were shuffling in their seats with impatience. Pupil Donnie, who was playing the part of stage manager, looked out from behind the makeshift curtain. His mum and dad had still not arrived, and he was not going to let the performance start until they did!. Like the audience, the cast were getting restless. In the end, little Jimmy strode onto the stage, pushed through the curtain and gave his opening line: “In the far east…”. Donnie, who, as stage manager, was supposed to remain unseen came out onto the stage shouting, “Not yet, not yet”, but Jimmy continued, “Three wise men set out to follow the star they had seen moving in the sky.” Donnie grabbed Jimmy and tried to haul him behind the curtain, but at that point the three wise men pushed their way through. “We have arrived in Bethlehem” they said in unison. At that point, Donnie’s mother arrived. The headmaster beckoned her over hoping to get her son in order, but in his outfit, she didn’t recognize her son and instead she went over to William, one of the three ‘wise men’ who looked a bit like Donnie, and scolded him instead. Of course, this incensed the mother of William and she stormed up onto the stage to give Donnie’s mother a good talking to. Unfortunately, both mother’s were carrying handbags, and equipped with lethal weapons, it was not long before a fight broke out. The children looked on in horror. At this point Donnie decided to open the curtain, exposing the carefully laid out scene of the manger in the cowshed. To add to the effect straw had been strewn across the stage, and in the scuffle, was getting kicked around. Unfortunately this set half the audience sneezing with hay fever. The head teacher could be seen sitting in a corner head in hands. Had anyone got close enough, they would have heard him sobbing, but… Quickly slipping through spacetime, the elephant was now sitting at the back of the hall. Of course no one noticed him, they were not supposed to. The ability to remain unnoticed was necessary to his job. His man who had met him in the churchyard, and who had come along for the ride asked, “What are we doing here? Just a moment ago we were in the church about to drink a beer”. “Ah,”said the elephant, I have to be ready you know. I have a job to do, and someone here is about the cross the valley. “But, it’s just a school play”, said the man. “Wait” said the elephant. and with that Donnie’s father stepped up on to the stage, grabbed Jimmy’s mother’s handbag and swiped her with it. But as he did so, he lost his footing and fell into the school orchestra pit, and impaled himself on the drumstick that young Peter the drummer was holding out to fend off the heavy weight heading to wards him. The result was predictable, if a little messy and unfortunate, especially for Donny’s father who died with a look of incredulity on his face, and Peter whose life forever more looked to be overshadowed by the accident. At this, Peter’s father got up from his seat, and coughing and wheezing from hay fever strode blindly into the orchestra sending music stands, drums and cymbals in all directions. Standing with his left foot trapped in a crushed violin, he did his best to console his distraught son. The curtain which Donnie had recently pulled back was now resting against one of the stage lights, and starting to melt and smoulder. The supervising teacher, Mr Blenkinsopp, behind stage looked on in horror. ‘My god. we’re going to get sued’, he thought and quickly doused all the lights. But it was too late. The curtain burst into flames and started to drip burning hot plastic (it was made of polyester – against all regulations) onto the stage. “Get away, get away” he shouted to the children, who dutifully scrambled for the steps into the auditorium, all trying to go down them together, and landing in an inevitable heap on the floor. That was the moment the straw caught fire and quickly spread to the manger. “Oh Jesus” Blenkisopp thought. “Quite right” came the voice from the baby in the cot (but it was really just in his head), “I am not supposed to die here in a fire, but on a cross in 33 years time.” “This is going to be a busier night than I expected” said the elephant, “still, the overtime pay will be worth having.” “That is so heartless” his friend said. “Well you have to be heartless in this job, or you’d go mad” Before them the scene played out… Suddenly, a black raven was tapping at the window of the school hall. ‘Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.’ “What is he doing here” said the elephant. “He’s in the wrong horror story!”, he bellowed out waving his trunk menacingly. The raven looked across and tapped louder. The headmaster, who at this point was in despair and clearly not thinking clearly, went across and opened the window. A gust of cold fresh air full of oxygen driven by the gale outside (there was also thunder and lightnong at this point – which the raven had brought with him for effect) met the flaming stage and turned everything into an blazing inferno. It had to be said that the frantic flapping of the raven’s wings did not help – and the elephant did. However there was so much commotion that he could not be heard. Demanding attention, he amble-ran across to the deserted orchestra pit and grabbed a trumpet, put it to his trunk and blew as hard as he could. The sound of the trumpet reverberated and suddenly, everyone noticed him. “Now, he said, those of you who are dead, line up over here. If you are still alive – I suggest you run out of the building, Quick as you can.” “Boys, girls, make sure you go to the assembly point.”, shouted Blenkinsopp. to be continued… ---- Authored by: writeradmin; Last updated: 2020-05-11T17:19:52(UTC)