“Good evening” said Death in a deep voice as he opened the door and invited in the first of his guests.

You may not think it but Death is actually quite gregarious. It’s just that he doesn’t often get the opportunity to let it show.

It was quite interesting to see him drawing up his guest list. The four horsemen were on it, of course. He hesitated about Lucifer. If he invited Lucifer he couldn’t invite Gabriel and if he invited Gabriel he couldn’t invite Lucifer. In the end he plumped for Lucifer, after all parties are about fun.

Sheeva was on the list too. He had first encountered Shiva many centuries ago at a cremation. They watched intently as they discussed exactly who had responsibility for sheperding the soul of the departed on their way.

“You can’t get away with out saying goodbye you know.”

“Do we really have to” said the newly weds, eager to start their honeymoon. It was only going to be a fortnight, even though it should by rights be a month – as historically it was – the honey month.

“Yes you DO have to.” That was her mother.

The husband whispered in her ear – “you are mine now not hers”. And so started the rot which lead over the years to the current situation where the parents were not talking to the other side and the children were not talking to either of them.

And Christmas approached…

“That’s a present” said the teacher, annoyed. “I asked you for an example of the past perfect subjunctive mood in the passive voice.

“Don’t you know anything you ignorant child.”

”I would have been more interested by your lessons if you made it a bit more fun sir”, said the child.

“That’s it said the teacher that’s it! You got it. The child looked perplexed.

“The past perfect subjunctive mood in the passive voice” the teacher trilled. “You got it, you got it.”

The child continued to look totally confused.

“You have it now.”, said the teacher.

“That’s a present.”, replied the child.

Everything had gone deathly quiet Yes, it was another power cut. Inconvenient maybe, but the peace and quiet as all the motors stopped – no gurgling fridge, no whirring fan, no ratling aircon, no splasing water from the fountain in the garden. Just perfect peace.He leaned back and sipped his gin and tonic. Why can’t it always be like this he thought.

Three hours later as the ice cream started to ooze out of the fridge he thought “Why can’t they fix it. What is the problem.” He would ring the company and give them a piece of his mind. That’s what he would do at home.

He practised the Indonesian words in his head, picked up the phone, rang the number, and shouted the words down the line. “Yes sir” came the response in english, and with that the line went dead.

Not far from here is a kaleidoscope cupboard filled with fluffy toys, floppy disks, fiery flapjacks and forty thieves.

Not far from here is a cacophony of brass bands, Beethoven symphonies, Bach quartets, boom box banshees,

Not far from here is an explosion of lemon lime, lazy long Sundays, loopy dog hoops and things that taste.

Not far from here but out of our reach, in a different dimension, they jostle hoping in vain for attention as we sit oblivious.

Oh the endless rain he said looking out over the primeval earth. Time travel had brought him here. What desolation. And unbreatable air – just as well he had brought his diving gear. Apart form the methane atmosphere, the water levels were rising all around day by day. 15,000 years the weather backcast had reported. 15,000 years of unstopping rain. He trudged toward higher ground, his equipment completely sodden.Getting back was not going to be as easy as getting here he thought huddling behind a rock.

In out wheezed the breathing mask. In out, in out. Surrounding him a miasma of unused oxygen in the vast methan cloud. The lightning struck and boom, life started.