Going Home (Rewrite) (standard:mystery, 2994 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Dec 10 2003	Views/Reads: 4194/2522	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
After landing at Heathrow a passenger discovers a strange new world.

As we touched down at Heathrow Airport, my feeling was one of relief.
Given that my occupation called for me to swim amongst sharks and other 
fearsome creatures of the deep, a routine flight from Australia should 
have held no fears for me. I managed to release my grip on the armrest, 
before unfastening my seatbelt. My throat was as dry as the Sahara with 
nervousness, and I was in dire need of some liquid refreshment. 

The retrieving of my luggage went better than expected, as mine always
appeared to be the last to be unloaded. I glanced at the clock on the 
wall and adjusted my wristwatch, before realising the clock was wrong. 
It showed nine-fifteen, which was three hours out. My confused mind was 
calculating the time zone difference, and I concluded that it must be 
after six-fifteen. Again, my attention was focused on the wall clock, 
and I noticed that the second hand was moving backwards, which afforded 
me a smile. 

The concourse was busy with people waiting to be picked up by their
loved ones. My tired eyes perused the surroundings, trying to locate 
Sally and my two children, James and Jenny. I gazed up to the darkening 
sky and was taken aback, as I had never witnessed such a spectacle. I 
marvelled at the daffodil-coloured clouds, which were drifting across 
the spectacular purple heaven. 

“Jet lag,” I mumbled to myself. That coupled with the possibility of
sunstroke, offered me a reasonable explanation. I again checked my 
watch. Sally had never been late before. 

I waited another thirty minutes before deciding to take a taxi. The
cabby assisted me with my luggage and we set off towards Shepherd's 
Bush, my mind still addled by my wife's absence. 

“Been somewhere nice, guv?” asked the cabbie. 

“Australia, the Great Barrier Reef actually.” 

“Really? No kidding? I'd love to go there. Holiday, eh?” 

“No, I was working. I'm an oceanologist.” 

“That's a cool way to make a living, guv. Tell me, did you see any
sharks?” 

“Yes, there were plenty of sharks.” I was glad of the prolonged silence.
As we approached the outskirts of Shepherd's Bush, my curiosity got the 
better of me. 

“Since when have the taxis been green?” I quizzed. 

“Green? Where have you been, guv? They've been green since I can
remember.” 

I examined his features in the mirror, and estimated that the driver
could not have been much older than forty. 

“How long have you been a taxi driver?” 

He scratched his head. “Ten years now, give and take. It's not as
interesting as your line of work, but I've met some celebrities in my 
time, guv. Why, only the other day, I had Howard Morgan in my cab. The 
trouble and strife thought I was pulling her leg. Howard bloody 
Morgan.” 

“Who's Howard Morgan?” 

He gave me a quizzical look; no, it was more like a look that said, who
is this moron? “You're jiggling with me right?” 

“No, I really haven't heard of Howard Morgan.” 

“You know, Howard Morgan, the ex Prime Minister.” 

I sat in silence, unsure if I was the victim of a wind up. I looked at
the cabby's ID and chanced another question. “Tell me, Ron, what colour 
is the sky?” 



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