I went down to the beach today, it seemed like a good idea and I was drawn there, it being such a glorious day. There was a lone man on the shoreline standing like a statue in a long woollen coat and trilby hat gazing at me as the ocean crashed loudly onto the shingle a few yards behind. The concentration of his stare was so overwhelming that I couldn’t think whether I should interact or just walk away as the contact between us was strangely chilling. For a moment it felt like some kind of hallucination where time faulters and leeches into a dreamscape, then with the snap of a hypnotists fingers the scene changed once more to the sound of seagulls calling and the slushing of salty water on sand flooded my ears. The man pointed a finger at me hidden in a leather glove, there was a dog’s lead wrapped around his wrist, but he had no dog and in the other hand he held a brightly coloured plastic bucket and spade, but there were no children. The constant dread of that lost look was overpowering. I had to leave, the stranger’s presence was bothering me, there was a freakish nature about him that was reminiscent of an escapee from an institute for the insane.

He spoke quite abruptly. I hadn’t expected that to happen. “Excuse me,” he said. My first steps towards the promenade had already been taken and I wasn’t about to look back for no good reason.   

“No – excuse me sir,” he shouted. There was a sudden tug at my arm quite out of the blue, I’d not heard footsteps across the shingle. When I looked down a hand wrapped in a leather glove was gripping my sleeve. How he’d managed to reach me in the blink of an eye was a puzzle There had been no sound, nothing to indicate an approach. Evidence of some further madness perhaps? Sometimes I seemingly drift off into obscure thought where time stands still – that occurs often and glancing at my feet it was obvious I’d only made a few strides in the pebbles? That, however, wasn’t the first strange experience of the day, there had been several others I couldn’t quite explain, like why I came to the beach in the first place, it made perfect sense of course on a day like today. Though there was little rational explanation other than something asked me to be here. Why live near a beach you don’t visit from time to time, but I just couldn’t remember the reason why I never did? It was not part of my daily routine, never had been as I was not a lover of the sea, it always felt seedy and smelled of things I don’t like, but something had brought me here that was for sure.

“What’s your problem friend?” I said. “What do you want? I don’t want to be pestered when I’m out for walk. Who the hell are you staring at me – you don’t know me?” The voice from my mouth was loud and shrill, nervous in the extreme, but this man was almost breathing down my neck. He couldn’t have been closer it he’d tried. My personal space belongs to me, nobody infiltrates that. Yet this felt an unwarranted violated, as if I was being robbed of something that wasn’t physical, but merely spiritual.

“There’s something escaping from your head,” he said, his gloved finger reaching up towards my hairline.

“Sorry, but what on earth are you talking about?” I replied angrily walking towards the roadside. Still attached he followed, that gloved hand tight on my shirt sleeve. “Wait – please.” He was almost begging.

“Just leave me alone please. What do you want?” I said turning to face my invader. “Is it money you need, you trying to sell me something? “

“No sir I am not,” he snapped back in a country accent. “You need to understand that I see something rising from your head. It looks reminiscent of a gas, smoke or an essence of some type.” He relaxed his grip on my arm. “You need to be careful, that’s my advice. Take it or leave it as you like, but I believe you may need some medical attention and that’s all I have to say.”

I knocked his hand away looking him fiercely in the eyes. “Get away from me – you God damn freak.” I snarled. “I’ll punch you in the mouth if you keep this up. What the hell is it with you guys. I have money, you want money. That’s what you usually want, isn’t it?”

“There is no devious intent in my actions I assure you, it is purely to advise you of what I see. And I see something unnatural. You may be interested, you maybe not, but rest assured there is a darkness that surrounds you my young friend and I suggest you seek some assistance, and on that note, I bid you good day sir.” The stranger doffed his hat, nodded politely and strode toward the water’s edge, the empty dog lead dragging across the shingle, the bucket and spade left behind as a memento. I nearly called him back, but couldn’t be bothered, the encounter had burdened my emotions and I was shaking inside, the words of the visitor churning in my memory, over and over. I walked on, touching the top of my head like it was made of something fragile. Smoke, a gas, what the hell did all that mean? I patted my skull with confidence, then looked at both palms, there was nothing there but what I expected.

“Jesus Christ, why is it always me that attracts weirdos?” I shouted looking back across the sand, but the words would not be heard. The beach was empty. The man was gone, not even a footprint left behind.

The promenade was long and wide with ordinary people milling around in the sunshine looking aimlessly out to sea, lost in thought, as if the breaking waves held all the answers. Some kids rode bikes pretending they were on a racetrack shouting and goading each other as only teenagers can. Mothers pushed prams trying to get their unhappy children to sleep and in endless seafront cafes patrons ate cakes and buns by the score washed down with limitless gallons of coffee and tea. There was an empty seat partly hidden beneath the cool shade of a large palm tree that rustled in the sea breeze of the midday hours. I was shattered, every muscle expired, stars and bright lights flickered across my eyes and into my brain – was this one more fainting spell to come? Another case of finding myself slumped on the dirty ground, the memory of the previous hours lost in a cloudy pool. Legs suddenly turned to jelly, two sticks of boneless meat and I tumbled onto the wooden slats, breathing like a man on the edge of hysteria from a lung disease. The next minutes gave me time to consider some thoughts, the day was turning out odd, no doubt about that. To be truthful the last few weeks had been anything but normal. Maybe it was just a moment in time? My age too young for dementia, of course, but to be honest the morning had become a blur of doubt. I’d had an encounter with a crazy man. Smoke from my head? Was I on the verge of spontaneous combustion? No – who believes that shit? My head was hot, but not burning – some crazy fool, eh? “Pull yourself together man.”  The words came out of my mouth, the sound was clear, as if I was hearing myself in the third person. “It’s just a period of stress, it’ll pass in a day or two.”

Things had been laying heavy on my mind lately. What with the job, or lack of it and the wife leaving suddenly? Only telling me the good news as she’s walking down the garden path and out into a waiting taxi? Was I a useless good for nothing excuse for a human being? Maybe on that point she was right, there was little evidence to the contrary? Her husband really was a waster, but anyway why did she really care . . .  he was his own man, no doubt about that – could do what the hell he liked, when he liked – bitch is not gonna put him right, she can go to hell for all he cares!  I nodded in agreement; here I am again speaking to myself in the third person. Am I losing my mind, everything is twisted and out of joint – like some higher power is pulling the strings – but is that any wonder?

“Mister, mister are you okay?” A distant voice chipped away at my ears. “Come on wake up now, you’re slipping onto the road, you’re gonna get yourself killed like this.” The voice changed to urgent and clearly concerned. One eye blinked open and I squinted against the sunlight to bring the other into focus. There was an old lady, prodding me gently in the chest with a walking stick.

“What are you doing?” I asked looking at the woman silhouetted in the light. “Yeh, yeh – I’m okay. Sorry, I’m fine and will you stop doing that?” I spluttered looking around at the vague surroundings, pushing the stick away.

“You need to move from here young man, you’re gonna get yourself hurt with all these cars passing by so close.”

Coughing to clear the congestion in my throat, I rubbed my eyes and sat up, the bright sun streaming into my face. “Well,” I said. “Thanks for waking me up, but I have no idea how I got here and it’s not from drinking either?” I protested, the words came easily, an open apology to the lady and myself for not knowing the reason for my whereabouts.

“You be careful now young man,” she said, “and make sure you get that seen to, could be the death of you without some attention that?” She pointed to my head then turned on a sixpence like a young teen and trundling across the grass dragging her carrier on wheels behind her. Bodily functions and senses returned, I grabbed the steel framework from under which I was dangling and pulled myself upright. Cars skirted by honking their horns and were inches away from my feet. Spreading out as far as I could see, a traffic island the size of a cricket field, a huge monolith perched in its centre. I had been unconscious in the gutter inches from deadly wheels. Could it get any worse this degeneration of the mind, memory lapse, headaches, and me breaking down in places I shouldn’t be in or had no idea how I’d got there. It must be a form of madness surely. The internet said not, and the Doctors said not. It was just stress apparently and I shouldn’t worry. But am I, in reality, spiralling into insanity without recognising the symptoms? The old lady said there was something wrong with me, exacting similar words as the strange man on the beach. “Get that seen to,” she said. I was beginning to panic, things like this don’t just happen without reason. But what is the reason, because whatever it is, it’s gaining ground and momentum quickly. Stretching stiff legs and aching back I headed back to the path. It appeared to run through the centre of the island and across a bridge to the promenade. People used the great statue as a viewing point for the ocean. The seagulls were still calling, the sea rumbling at the water’s edge, but the day was getting long, and my mind was ablaze with a thousand questions and theories about the continuity of life.  

Enough was surely enough, I felt ill to the pit of my stomach. The past few hours had drained every ounce of strength and I needed to lie down and think about the mess that was screaming in my head. I headed home, the remainder of the day written off, ready to face the verbal storm of my betrothed following her unwelcomed return to the house a few days ago and my leaving unwillingly. There were questions unanswered, urgent priorities to resolve. Would she stay or would she go – either way, I wasn’t the least bit bothered.

There was a taxi stand at the entrance of a nearby supermarket and a few cars stood ready for fares. Opening the first car door the driver looked at me oddly, probably wondering what I had done with the shopping I clearly hadn’t done. I just hoped there was a home to return to, the wife was blazing mad when I left, slammed the front door with the strength of a power lifter on speed.  Calling me all the names she could muster, some I’d never heard before, they must have been listed in a book of insults borrowed from a friend. It wouldn’t be a surprise that in my absence she had taken the place apart. You know the drill, desperately unhappy wife, clothes get destroyed, favourite records scattered over the front lawn, that pricey ornament bought by my mother a few Christmases back smashed into a thousand pieces.  When she was angry it was like encountering a whirlwind – anything could happen, and I mean absolutely anything at all. A little destruction was something she was more than capable of, so I had anxiety at returning to the house, but it had to be faced sooner or later.

 The car was warm and cosy, a large Mercedes by the shape of it, smelled of new leather and polish. Comfortable in the passenger seat the minutes drifted by, and I swam in a warm haze of calm. The white lines down the centre of the road flashed by with rapid continuity. They had a hypnotic rhythm like a metronome, I countered them as they raced by faster and faster as the car gathered speed. One, two, three . . . fifty-six, seventy-two, endless, endless. On and on they went, I was counting each one and slid slowly into an unconscious wilderness.

The driver broke the silence and I blinked awake. He spoke quietly like he knew me as a long-time friend. “It’s gonna kill you, you know?” he said.

“Yeh, I know, I’m being told that all the time,” I replied bemused by the comment.

“Doesn’t that bother you; most people lose their shit when they get told its terminal?” The driver asked.

Dreams, dreams, dreams. More unwelcomed thoughts from the dark side washed over me as the ragged motion of the car eased the weight on my mind.

“Life sucks anyway, the end is just a permanent state of mind. Have you met my wife; you’d probably consider terminal as the best chance of escape if you had?” I laughed, the car bumped and jerked like it almost got the joke. At least I amused myself.

“I can fix it for you, no worries, no cost . . . I just need a little something in return, but it’s yours to give anyway. So, no loss to anyone, not even yourself and then everything’s better again. What do you say?”

“Wow, that’s a showstopper if ever I’ve heard one, certainly an interesting thought but what are you suggesting? I don’t understand.” The driver was concentrating on the road, but I scoped him out, he must have wondered why I sounded surprised at his comments. I was still in the dream, wasn’t I? I must be, ‘cos this ain’t real. I had no concept of reality – all those brainwaves shot to mush. “Who are you exactly?” I said rubbing the sleep from my eyes thinking the dream might be over. “We don’t know each other, right? So, tell me?” I shifted position in the seat, so I was facing him squarely. “What is this shit all about. You a psychic, a mind reader or what, because everyone’s telling me I’m ill and its terminal and I’ve got no idea who the hell you all are? But you must know me, right?” The mist had cleared, the light of reality was drifting back into my mind, and it seemed there were some unknown human encounters mapping out my life with random physiological and medical factors.

The driver seemed unmoved, I guess he knew something he wasn’t telling me about. “I mean, come on, why would you say that? Are you a doctor as well as a cab driver? So just shut the hell up, keep your thoughts to yourself and get me home as quickly as you can, if you don’t mind. There’s enough trouble waiting for me there. I don’t need your twisted prognosis – thank you all the same?” I turned back around in the seat, folding my arms in disgust and stared through the dirty glass wondering why today, of all days, had turned into such a strange mental conundrum?

All was quiet momentarily, I think the guy felt embarrassed I’d raised my voice in anger, but I didn’t care one jot, he was an imbecile and just a cab driver with no right to even speak to me, never mind cooking up stories about my health. I sensed him looking across at me again and he spoke, there was a certain smile of recognition in the glint of his eyes as I turned to face him. The glance he gave was deadly serious and that alone worried me.

“It’s now 12.33pm, you’ve already had a number of episodes, not just today but over the past few weeks. Memory loss, lack of concentration, black outs, erratic bouts of anger, depression, need I go on? At 4.43pm today you will collapse and slip into a coma, it will be your last episode, from which you will not recover. At 10.29am in three weeks’ time, because there is no chance of recovery or improvement the Doctors and your next of kin will decide to turn off the life support equipment that is keeping you artificially alive and you will pass way without leaving a singular mark of remembrance on the world. In other words, it will almost be as if you were never born – have you seen the film “It’s a wonderful life” Mr. Samuel Fuller, because you really ought to have, you may have learnt a lesson or two. You really are a snivelling selfish man Mr. Fuller, one of the worst I’ve ever had the pleasure to do business with?”

If that wasn’t the perfect wakeup call then, then a bullet to the head would not have proved any more stunning. My eyes were on stalks, the driver had my full attention.

“Whoa, whoa man,” I said in anger, “who are you? Pull this car over right now, I’m finished with this. This is not right. You’re not right, and I’m not taking any further comments from the likes of you. So let me out before I do something I’ll not be proud of.” He said nothing, there was no satisfaction in that face, just the smug knowledge he knew something I didn’t, and I hated the very thought that I was being played for a loser yet again.  The driver had no intention of letting me out, so I made my own move to stop the car. This was a road to somewhere, but it wasn’t my bittersweet home. I lunged for the wheel, hands slipping and sliding as we tussled on the front seats. The car slewed from side to side across the road, we could have killed something, the tyres screeching, the brakes pumping and groaning under pressure. “Stop this God damn car, right now, or I swear I’ll knock you out?” He took no notice of my rage and just looked straight ahead through the windscreen. Unperturbed by my menace, his grip firm and resolute the car automatically stayed solid on the road. Maybe it was just skidding in my mind, the reality of emotion in overdrive as his statements echoed in my tiny brain. “Pass away – life support – coma – selfish man.” Like a merry-go-round, spinning and spinning, faster, around and around the words went, never ending, like a circle in a spiral – like a wheel within a wheel.

We stopped dramatically, no skidding, no sudden inertia, no face pressing against the windscreen. A calm as you like halt, as if we had never moved. The dream like thoughts kicked in – had we moved, was this another episode of madness? I was beginning to think tricks of delusion were at play, but why, was I so ill, I had no idea how damaged I was?

The exertion was taking its toll, I was tiring rapidly. He saw I was struggling and looked at me, straight faced. “It’s a tumour you have, in the brain, inoperable of course. There’s no redemption, no get out clause on this side of the fence. However, on the other side where you slip into a state of death I can help. Like I said you just need to agree, give me the nod. It’s only a small change of heart, that’s all, no pain, no suffering. You gift something to me, and I gift you your life back in return. Simple – to live the renewed life as you choose. No strings attached, no catch, no signing in blood. A gentleman’s agreement is all that’s needed. It’s the modern way you see. I have to say they upgraded the systems and it’s much easier, none of that messing around with certificates and paperwork – it is the twenty first century after all and all that old stuff was chucked out the window a few years back. Now what do you say, eh?” He smiled that evil pious grin and I watched and wondered. “It is, after all just a life-or-death decision, easy to make surely. You must be one of my easiest customers Mr. Fuller, apart from your wretched personality, that is. You choose? On one hand you die and on the other you live – no questions asked, free to be as wretched as you please, as outrageous, as wicked or as sinful as the pleasure takes you. How do you think all those other crazy fools get away with it? They signed up too, gave the afterlife away for a shot of hell raising in this life. So, what do you say, can I sign you up Mr. Fuller? Just say the word.” Then a deep sigh of satisfaction left the drivers mouth, like a salesman feeling the joy of triumph when he closes a great deal. You know, that arrogant in the bag dose of job well done.

“You’d be the thousandth you know, that’s a hell of a result for anyone in my business?” He said nodding to himself, I was barely listening as my thoughts were elsewhere.

“Oh yeh?” I replied not thinking.

“I’m in for a promotion, the main man told me when I hit that number.”

“Really – well that is remarkable.”

“Up the ladder I go, were HIS words. Different job, different stakes. No more hanging around this tip with the likes of you lot. So, I’m well suited with that. Hard work really does pay you know?”

Timing is the key to everything, it marks the start and the end of an event, not necessarily the same event. It can mark the end of one incident before careering off in a different direction altogether and this time, right now, that marking of a new event was just about to arrive with vengeance and subtle creative justice.

“Nine hundred and ninety-nine that is a big number isn’t it,” I remarked sarcastically. “Turn it over and it reads six, six, six, the number of the beast to quote a well-known phrase?”

“Yeh, I guess,” said the driver obviously straining to catch the connection.

“Well, you would never have guessed it, would you my friendly opposition in crime. Look at me, that broken down excuse for a sane character. You would never guess eh, but I’m your beast of burden, your handcuffs, prison cell and executioner all rolled into one tiny pathetic frame. So, pin back your ears my fickle friend and listen to these words.” And out they came, a diatribe, a soliloquy of ancient incantations, just rolling from the throat as free and easy as you like. And I loved it, a change of direction so sweet, like syrup on an acid tongue. The hunted becomes the hunter, and it suited me just fine.

When the last words of those secret texts left my mouth, everything stopped. Motion, time, even the dust motes in the air ceased to flicker and the driver slowly twisted towards me his mouth gaping wide and him trying to speak and protest. Yet no sound came from the man’s voice box, it was like the inside of the car had turned into a vacuum, but it didn’t stop me venting my killer punch.

“You failed Mr. Soul Taker,” I said like the boy who had gotten all the best sweets from the shop. “No high achievers award for you I’m afraid. I knew you’d try, that you’d find me sooner or later. Granted, you have a great nose for death, so I knew you’d sniff me out, it was just a matter of time. Anyway, now that I have your full attention, all trapped in my spell and before I let you speak again there are some things I’d like to say.” Tiny drops of rain pattered against the windscreen, the supermarket was still in front of us, we had not moved an inch, everything I’d seen was a lie. “Death, what a great leveller in the grand scheme, don’t you think? It kind of crystallises your thoughts around any future plans that you may, or may not have? So, one day there’s a knock at my front door, I was in a bit of a dark place as the wife was none too sympathetic about my condition. Without saying it, she hoped I’d die as soon as possible. Get me out of the way. Don’t know why she stuck around to be honest. So, there’s a knock at the door and I open it. There’s some kind of weird light coming out of this thing, this being that’s blocking the doorway. Don’t know what it is, male, female, could be either, both or none? An emissary, that’s what it was, well just imagine that. It says ‘Mr. Fuller I represent the Lord and he wants me to proposition you. Are you interested?’ Well, not to miss an opportunity, I listen and guess what . . . I accept and there I am an investigator for the good Lord. My badge – see.” It looks plastic as I pull back the lapel of my jacket and show it to the driver, it’s precious metal imprinted with the words ‘Representative of the Good Lord – Bounty Hunter – Number 1674’”

The driver struggles in his seat, wriggling, trying to break the spell, but the invisible ties bind him solid. He’s twisting like a sulky child, mouth flapping desperate to say a few words, but I don’t give him that opportunity just yet. I have more to say. “You were on their radar see, giving off too much negativity. Couldn’t keep below the levels of acceptability with your soul taking. Looking to get that high award, that promotion. Now, if you had only kept within the limits, you know the give and take. You get to bring a few over to the dark side of civilisation and the Good Lord gets to turn a few back to the good side. Well, that would have been fine and dandy, but you go all out upsetting the equilibrium, the status quo and that’s not good is it. HE can’t allow that to happen, thinks you’re a very naughty boy and need to be stopped. And that my friend is where I come in.”  Out of the kindness of my heart I let the other man have his turn to say a few words. it just takes a couple of swift hand actions and the odd magic word, and his vocal cords are free once again.

“To hell with you Fuller,” were the first words that emerged, he would have liked to smash the steering wheel or my face with his fists, he was raging mad, but the binds were still holding them tight.

I laugh. “That’s ironic but come on don’t be like that – it was never going to last.” I said wiping the condensation from the inside of the car’s window, the atmosphere getting heated, too much hot air escaping from our mouths.

“You tricked me proper . . . and I never even saw it coming. What a fool – I should have seen the signs Fuller. Too eager to engage me, I thought it was too good to be true. Okay, you got the better of me this time, but it’s not like you’re going to win in the long run. A few more hours and your gone.”

“Don’t blame yourself too harshly. Okay you were enticed, entrapped, sucked into the plot. I’ll grant you that, but you see I was the perfect bait and you had no choice but to reel me in. Shame it didn’t work. HIS emissary said it would give me express entry through the pearly gates, no messing, no references or authentication needed. Just straight through. A preferential client. So, I’m gonna die okay, unfortunately that can’t change, but a fast-track into Heaven with no doubts or uncertainty after my passing. Then yes sir, I’ll have some of that please as it eases the mind, gets rid of all those lingering fears that I might end up someplace else for the rest of eternity. You see driver, it’s never been in my nature to be bad to anyone, so your offer was always a nonstarter. Count me out every time.” I peer at him and shrug like I’m at ease with my current predicament. “I’m one of the good guys.”

“So, what to do with you in the best interests of humanity. Death would be the simplest fix, yet I’m told that would be a no no for your atonement in this case. Section nine hundred and forty-one, clause 6. I’ll not read it right now, but I’m sure you understand the context. Remorse you have none, nor regret for your actions and the consequences there applied and delivered to the multitude of innocent individuals you let your soul-less devils bully and harass. Therefore, a stilted memory and an everlasting stretch in purgatory would be preferable, I guess?”

“It doesn’t have to be like this. There must be some point of discussion and compromise?”

“No – I think not.” I whispered.

“Well, unfortunately, I do have one more thing to talk about. Shall we drive?” Said the driver with a sudden spin of the coin, an unexpected spark of inspiration lighting up his brain blowing away the engaged winds of terror.  

“Okay, you know what?” I replied feeling benevolent. “Let’s do that. Let’s drive to the beach, it’s more serene and comfortable there – right?”

The coastline was clear, bright and the sky cloudless, with sand and pebbles glistened in the spray of a weakening tide. The rain had left us, turning the afternoon into an idyllic holiday treat for the punters soaking up the sunshine with not a care in the world. We found our parking space hidden amongst the other random vehicles and stopped. How did we get there? Well, another secret I will keep to myself for another day.

“So,” I said to my victim before pronouncing punishment. “What other item do you have to discuss that might interest me?” Activities outside the vehicle crowded my imagination and were more captivating than the dull silence on the inside. Then came a remark delivered so innocently that it took my breath away and for a moment I struggled to breath and understand what I had heard.

“I know you wife.” He said.

“Excuse me!” I spluttered jerking my head around from the glass window to see the driver staring childlike straight into my eyes.

“I know your wife.” He let out a little laugh. “Mmm – very well, as a matter of fact. Intimately well actually. Not that you would know.”

Now that was a statement. A punch you in the gut statement that shook me by surprise. Had I been stood up then I may have fallen down. It was like a spear right through the heart, clean and unexpecting with a sharpness that cut me to the core. But it certainly set my blood boiling in a staggering gasp. Why . . . well, a couple of reasons spring to mind. How come he knew my wife in the first place and what did that word intimately mean? Was I so stupid I had missed the signs. Had complacency to my wife’s needs tempted her to venture into the arms of another man – a soul taker by all accounts and a damn good one at that. So, what harm had this liaison done? Destroyed my relationship once and for all. Not that it didn’t seem over anyway, me being pushed out and her vented hatred of my even taking a breath. I should have registered and understood the revulsion of my advances, but things like that always strike you when it’s too late.  Divorce top of the list now for sure now, I guess. She was the only treasure I had, not the greatest of conquests, I’ll grant you, but mine none the less and I did love her and least of all I didn’t want it to be over. The apparent onset of death made no difference to my desires. Fight I must and fight I will for what is mine or die trying.

I calmed myself and fumbled with a reply, only the slightest hint of anger came out in the words. “Okay driver, you have my attention to say the least and I’ll stay focused, I guarantee that, as much as I want to ram my fist down your scrawny throat and throttle the life out of you in the most violent of ways. But carry on and tell me more?”

He paused for a moment, thinking how he could tell the story. It was going to be big, very big. I could see he was choosing his words wisely. “I know this will not mean much to you but I’m not a hunter of women, however, it was an opportunity that cropped up unexpectedly, in the general course of my work I might add. I’m in the habit of handing out or leaving my card in random places of interest. Clubs, pubs, takeaway restaurants you know the score, where folks have a need for a taxi. One afternoon I got this call from a woman. A request to take her from a downtown property to the cinema – so I went, very innocently and picked her up. I honestly had no idea who she was – she was just another fare – nothing else.”

Maybe my mouth was hanging open, maybe I looked stern and ferocious, or possibly there was just a hint of a smile. However I looked; this man held my attention with every word that escaped his face. The smug look of victory that radiated from the vile character was a little more than I was willing to take. Still the magic ties bound his hands. When all was said and finished, this man was still a prisoner for me to deal with as I chose when the final words had been spoken. Still, I was intrigued for more, this story had to have an ending. I may not like it, but I was grossly enthralled.

“I arrived as requested at the house and she slid into the car looking pretty and smart, but alone and I thought here’s an opening to jump straight in with my inquisition. You do realise that all my conquests start with innocent words in this taxi. Right?”

I nodded, it seemed obvious when he said it, but I hadn’t given the idea much thought. “Yes, I understand, carry on.”

“She asks me to pick her up after the show finishes. I agreed as it was no problem. She gives me her phone number, just in case its needed. The names Mrs. Fuller if you need to know she tells me. Sarah – call me Sarah, that’s more friendly she says with a wink. Well, that set my mind racing because she was very pretty. I don’t mind telling you. “

That wink of the eye, the first name terms cut me deep. I was clenching my fists and raging inside . . . I was on the verge of a destructive force. Not just at the honesty of the driver, but at my wife’s obvious inducement and blatant disregard of my historic devotion. I had been betrayed. Was this the first time? I didn’t know what she did in her time alone. Now I know she’s a cheat, something I never was and never would be regardless of our obvious difficult relationship. Surely, I deserved better. Obviously not. The sun glaring through the window was working hard to ease my pain. It was a lost cause – the open hatred was building like a volcano bound for eruption.

“Well, I picked her up at the cinema after the show and we got talking you know. Chit chat, how was the film, what do you do for a job? You know the score; a taxi driver doesn’t necessarily want a quiet drive. So, one thing led to another, and you cropped up. Innocently at first and then it developed into something more personal. Why she was telling me this stuff I don’t know, maybe there was some chemistry developing between us, maybe I was taking too much interest in her problems? A caring hand, a comfort, you know to ease the frustration of the emotion, or maybe I prised open the introduction to get at you. The very top name on my list of potential clients. Oh yes, was I the luckiest bastard on earth? I couldn’t believe my luck and did I get the impression she was coming on to me. You bet!”

That volcano inside was well and truly smoking. It was belching ash and lava with an energy that had lain dormant in me for years. Yet I needed the tale to continue, if I could rid myself of that woman right then, I would have driven a stake through her heart and watched her die with a smile on my face in a second. But sat in that car, the sun intense and the sea gleaming like sparkling glass, I kept my cool.

“He’s such a loser that pathetic husband of mine, no ambition, no pride in himself, struggles to get out of bed every day and me – well I don’t think I exist in his world of self-pity she told me. Well then, I said to her, I have just the solution to your problem and it won’t cost you a dime. In fact considering what you have said it will do wonders for your emotional problems and open up a world of hedonistic pleasures hither to unknown to you. What do you say? And there you have it the deal was done there and then, in this very taxi. Number nine hundred and sixty-three. Tick the box, stamp the ticket, job done. So you see Fuller, you know the history now, the little secret why she wanted you out. There was nothing for her to fear in pushing you out of the door. No reprisal from you that meant shit to her. You slipped into a depressive state of self-destruction on the back of a fatal illness. Well, Sarah didn’t give a damn about that. She had a new agenda that was way too important to waste with you. The innocence of her past life gone. Lost in the wind of change she made happen and guess what? Here’s the final rub, the nail in the coffin for you. She’s mine now, mind, body and soul. You want to hear the sordid detail; that make you feel better? What we did, where we did it, time and time again in this taxi, out in the street . . . in your bed? And we didn’t care, how does that sound . . . heartless, I guess? So do your worst, send me to purgatory? Make my life hell. I’ll always come back. The Master will make sure of that. I’m his best soul taker and we can duel again eh Fuller.” Hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, he looked at me and chuckled because he knew it was all meaningless, almost a joke. “Oh, I forgot, it doesn’t matter anyway you’ll be dead come three weeks. Oh shame, crying shame!” This time he laughed out loud and flung his head back in triumph. He knew he had won, there was no other possibility . . . it was a certainty. The spell I cast over him didn’t matter, it was superficial, he could have sat there all day. At some point in the next few hours, I was going to drift into a coma and death would not be too far behind which would release him from the magic. Ultimately, there comes a point when emotions are pushed beyond the point of no return, when violence is the only punishment that can be vented to calm the raging mind. There is no hesitancy, no internal buffer to quell the fury – to lash out the only act of expression that fills the void no words can explain. I was on him in a second, no warning, he was bound, defenceless, but I cared not one jot. I ripped and clawed, cut his flesh like a knife through the coldest of butters and there it was the finest of trophies that eased my jealous mind . . . still beating in my hand. Man’s most vital organ, still pumping, wheezing, vapour rising in the stilted air of the car’s interior. I had my retribution. I was victorious in the last vestiges of mortality. It felt wonderful and I was calm at last.

“So, tell me Mr. Soul Taker, who’s the heartless one now?”

I climbed out of the car with a radiant smile, slamming the door and looking back there was nothing to see but steamy windows and a red flush against the glass. The beach took my view for one final moment, a timely recollection of the good times and bad we had endured together. It was magnificent as always. My time was drawing to a close, of that fact I was now certain. I walked across the promenade with a spring in my step. There was one remaining act to complete before I reunited with my maker.

“Now where’s that bitch? I have a gift for her.” The words came out easy and I laughed a laugh that had remained hidden behind the tears for far too long.