Primrose Bin Bags.

The card wouldn't scan. Amy swiped it a second time holding her breath. The door unlocked with the panel flashing green. She exhaled audibly. Exiting the main lab she stepped into the long narrow grey corridor. She clutched the small folded paper tightly in her right palm. This piece of paper could be worth millions.

She walked quickly without attracting attention. Her long coat made her anonymous in a sea of white linen coats on the fourth floor. Her long blonde hair made her stand out though. That was why she wore the short black bob-length wig. She had to get out. It was time. Time to make a break. Time to change her life for the better.

Amy had just been passed over for promotion. For the third time in eighteen months. The company was fast becoming a 'boys club' and she was now definitely in the minority. The new CEO was a sexist, ignorant pig. He hired fellow alumni graduates and sons of his golfing and country club buddies. The company was flying high after it's recent launch on the stock market. Amy had a solid clutch of shares but their value would pale in insignificance to what she now held.

She reached the bank of silver plated elevators and swiped her card. She pressed the down button and then alarms sounded everywhere. Lockdown.

It was time for Plan B. She sent a simple text message stating the word B.

The new CEO had introduced two years ago extreme levels of security and paranoia. People were being watched even when they weren't aware of it.

But Amy knew where the motion sensors and cameras were in their lab and on her floor. She knew where the blind-spots were too. She knew that various of computer spyware were installed on every laptop and personal computer. She didn't panic once the sirens started buzzing loudly. Security guards began appearing out of nowhere as if activated for the first time from some underground hole.

Amy calmly walked toward the ladies bathroom, avoiding everyone's gaze. She kept close to the wall and kept her head down. She draped her spare keycard in tinfoil and dropped it into a janitor's wheelie bin and moved on. Knowing the security personnel would track the chip on everyone's keycard was key to making this work. People were now milling about and getting stopped in the hallway by burly black suited ex-army types.

She made it to the bathroom undetected. Slipping off her coat, wig and dropping them to the floor, she quickly splashed two hand cupfuls of cold water on her face. The loose water fell to the floor. She used her shoes to spread the water around. Wiping away the residue on her face, she took one glance at herself in the mirror.

"You can do this!"

Having jarred open the window a smidge one hour earlier, she had enough space. Folding the slip of white paper over on itself twice, she crossed her fingers and forced it out. It flew out landing approximately twenty feet from the front door on the south side - into a batch of primroses. How appropriate, she thought.

The entire formula was based on the synthetic version of primroses. Amy had, over the last three days, copied it down piece by piece and written it in old-style pen ink. The smelly bin bag industry wars would go into overdrive with the news. People would now kill for this information.

Now came the hard physical part.

She inhaled deeply and braced herself.

Amy ran headfirst into the waist high ceramic sinks.

Falling backward with the force of impact, she hit the tiles hard. Still barely conscious, she heard the door burst open a few seconds later.

"Ma'am - are you okay?"

"I'm not sure - some bitch just thumped me. She was looking for some formula. I hit my head there off the sink as I fell. She took off that wig and coat before she left. Bitch took my badge too."

"Don't worry Ma'am. We'll get you some medical attention. That's bleeding, but you look okay. Control - this is Johnson here in the ladies bathroom on the north corner of level four - we have an escaped assailant who may be our perp. She was seen entering the bathroom wearing a black wig and white coat yet exited wearing - eh Ma'am? What was she wearing?"

"I saw orange trainers. She was quite tall too - about six feet, maybe 150 pounds. Brunette."

"Did you hear that Control - perp assaulted Head Lab Tech Amy Masters. We need an ambulance ASAP for Ms. Masters. The formula is not here - repeat not here!"

"Roger that Johnson - bring Ms. Masters to the south lobby. An ambulance has been called for her. Escort her down - she will be the only one out during Lockdown at this point."

Security guard Johnson helped Amy down to the lobby, holding her up at one point. Amy feigned injury well enough to fool him. Once outside in the ambulance, Amy was only feet away from her prize.

Close enough to smell the primroses.

"You want me to get that?" asked the smiling paramedic.

"Yes honey - go get our fortune."

Seat belt.

It happened so quickly. Less than it takes to intake a single breath. Never mind the exhale. One second Nora was unscrewing the bottle cap of her water bottle. Then her life changed.

The flight started and continued safely for four hours. A pocket of turbulence here and there but nothing serious. Announcements were made to warn them all of the potential. Wear your seat belt and all that.

The woman sitting in between them was none the wiser. She slept for most of the journey.

Nora had just started her own company and was en route to Chicago to sell her franchise. She was about to make millions. In the time it takes to switch a light on or off, her world changed.

She didn’t realise that the next time she would open her eyes was from a hospital bed after seven hours of surgery. Life saving surgery.

She had consumed one little quart bottle of white wine with her rubber chicken dinner.

She watched a bad French movie of love and intrigue that did nothing but continue her abhorrence of subtitled films. It did pass the time though.

They shared little glances. She listened to Irish music for twenty minutes that sent her to sleep for about forty. Waking up, she glanced at her seat side companion.

She noticed him getting on board. His quiet demeanour.

Almost too quiet.

He was dressed smartly, wearing a thin pin-striped black suit. The stubble was about two days old, and it suited him. He had short stubby fingers, but his wedding finger had an empty tan line at the base.

Taking off her headphones that were still tuned to the Irish lilt, she got up to use the bathroom. It was located only a few rows away from her seat. She had to wait in line for around a minute.

Before she retook her seat, she stood in the aisle sipping her water bottle. She stretched her torso and was sure he spotted her bare midriff. 

She pulled her itinerary out of her handbag and read her onward connection from O’Hare.

And then she met her seat side colleague.

With her head.

Hitting his.

Crack.

The plane dropped one thousand feet in one and a half seconds.

An intimate exchange that changed Nora’s life.

Vile.

Barry didn't know what to do. His heart told him one thing, but his mind told him another. He had two little voices speaking to him.

Two years ago was far too soon into the recession. The business never had a chance. Now he had an opportunity to restart his life. Repeat failure scared him even more.

They had promised each other. Forever until the end of time. But forever had just started two days ago. His mother didn't want it to go ahead, but he persisted, going with what was right and proper. But now wrong was planting a seed. A chance to start afresh.

He could provide them all with a decent start in their new life. But then he could also achieve his dream. Or would it cause more problems than solutions?

His father was less vocal. He never had much of a say in his life. But whenever he spoke to his son, Barry listened. He was a smart and shrewd man. He watched while others spoke - more than they needed to.

His brother blamed him for the collapse. He had the 'brains', and so laid all culpability at Barry's door. The fact he drank himself silly most nights was overlooked.

Holding the ticket between his grubby, stubby fingers, Barry made his decision. Picking the brown muck from underneath his fingernails, he stood up.

His solicitor asked what he wanted to do. His entire family of new additions and blood relatives were now screaming at each other in the hall. He stood alone in the wood paneled office, listening to their intense bickering.

Opening the modern glass door, he stood in front of them holding the ticket aloft.

"Who wants it?"

Summer Solstice.

Sanna was dreading the date. The red circled day approached. The mere thought of reliving it. The physical pain and the emotional torment. The turmoil that followed and the media circus that encapsulated her life for eight months. She was still being talked about.

Interest in her case had legal implications for courts around the world. She would no doubt get follow-up interview requests. Her life might never be the same - as one year previously.

How she longed to be anonymous once again.

Her birthday had occurred the day before Midsummers’ Eve celebrations. She also had endured six months of training for her new job. She now deserved to party. She was eager to enjoy also her own 22nd birthday and the festival with friends. It had been arranged well in advance and everyone had anticipated celebrating the long weekend.

Sanna met her friend Meena early on the outskirts of the city. They drove east to the region of Kamenlaakso to celebrate the Finnish holiday of Juhannus. The holiday was ranked only second to Christmas in terms of importance to the Finnish people. Everybody always made sure that they had their time off work booked. It was a time to relax and enjoy the break.

Meena was always prepared. Her fastidiousness to detail impressed Sanna at every turn. Especially during the trial, she was there for her. She passed notes to her every day reminding her to stay positive and believe in justice.

Meena had a plush four bed roomed cabin booked outside the town of Kotka for almost a year. She even had grocery deliveries made to the cabin in preparation for their arrival. But being true to form, she still had the car full of supplies. Sanna laughed heartily at her friends’ capacity to be overstocked. They chatted non-stop for the two hour drive as the countryside went by in a blur.

The winter and spring had been harsh. The ground, although free of snow and ice, was yielding. Meena had checked the weather for their three day sojourn and reported to Sanna that it was to be positively balmy in comparison to the previous few months. The humidity was already starting to build.

En route to the cabin, Meena told Sanna of whom they were sharing the cabin with. Two of her female work colleagues had already left that morning and were setting up the sauna. One of the other rooms was being occupied by a two former college friends of her sister. Meena knew them but hadn’t spoken to them since her sister’s graduation.

The other room was booked by one unknown man.

Meena had received an email informing her because she hadn’t packed the cabin, the space had to be filled. Meena asked for background on him, but none came back. Meena persisted, ringing the rental company.

The only information they could pass on was the surname attached to the booking – Korhonen. The most common name in Finland. It did not sit well with her.

They reached the cabin commune shortly after lunchtime. The air was fresh and clear. The sun was high in the sky and little pockets of white fluffy clouds lingered over the western hills. Their cottage was one of three along the edge of  the lake. Spruce trees already adorned the entrance to the cottage commune, welcoming them in.

The smell of the waterside pine needles wafted through Sanna’s nostrils. She gulped in two deep breaths and commented how much cleaner it was than the city. Meena agreed and they set about unpacking the car. Meeting her two workmates inside the cabin, hugs and air kisses were exchanged. Sanna had only heard of Elsa and Justiina, but now met them in the flesh for the first time. She knew that any friends of Meena were good enough to be trusted implicitly.

Justiina was Swedish and kindly insisted that they adorn the maypole. They all agreed that it sounded like a good idea. As they dressed it in bright colours, the two other girls arrived. Ida and Noora had introduced themselves via email over the past couple of weeks and more hugs and kisses were swapped around the tall structure.

More cars and vans arrived into the commune, unloading supplies and mainly beer. Six half drunk college boys wolf whistled at the sextet of pretty ladies. The theory of the most fertile time of the year might be tested later.

Retiring to their cabin, Ida suggested the idea of testing the sauna out. Elsa had set it up when they arrived and it was now ready. The sauna was large and filled with light brown native Finnish pine. A short pier led from the front door of the sauna direct to the lake.

Sanna grabbed a six pack of Olvi beer and met the other five girls in the sauna. Picking up the knife beside the stove, she sliced through the plastic around the tins and passed them around. They could hear the college boys noisily hoisting the Finnish flag out front, as 6pm neared. That would be in place until nine the following night, as per tradition.

One of them knocked on the door asking to come in, but Meena said no way. They would tease them until later.

No one noticed the six year old silver Volkswagen arrive.

As the beer and conversation flowed, the humid evening began to draw in. The sun was setting over the edge of the lake. Sanna made another beer run back into the cabin.

She noticed the spare room door closed. She inched forward on her toes and listened quietly outside the door. She heard movement and a sniffle.

Then a cough. A guttural sound. From the depths of the stomach.

The door flew open catching Sanna by surprise. She was pulled from her stance and flung onto the bed.

The room was entirely dark.

Landing on her face, she struggled for air. She was disorientated and tasted blood oozing from her mouth. She heard the door slam behind her.

She felt him tugging at her blue bikini bottoms. Then heard his zip unzipping.

Nestled in the front pocket of her bottoms was the stove knife.

Turning over, she drove it home.

Her police training bore fruit.

Destruction.

Anna sighed with a heavy heart. A broken heart.

Shattered glass and crockery lined the tiled floors in the kitchen. The couch was ripped apart in the corner and the stuffing strewn about everywhere. Alf the dog, wandered around, unsure of what to do.

Bits of chairs were strewn about - some broken, some splintered. The only thing that didn't seem to be touched was the big heavy kitchen island in the centre of the room. Pictures on the walls were either hanging loose or ripped down.

Stepping carefully over the glass, Anna picked up the brush. Moving the first pile into the corner, she couldn't continue. She collapsed onto the floor and cried. She gave up at the first attempt.

Picking herself up and wiping her eyes, Anna stepped out into the hall. The visual mess were even greater there. The shock of it made her gasp.

The big urns that once stood either side of the front door were completely obliterated. Their pale blue pieces were strewn from the door right through into the study.

Where did she start? The destruction was colossal.

But the physical mess paled in comparison with the emotional one.

The terrible news she had initially suspected, was true. She had found receipts.

And after a full bottle of vodka, Anna flew into a vicious rage.

She took it out on her house.

Shadow.

Eric woke with a jolt. Bolting upright from his slumber, he removed his black velvet eyemask. His night terrors had returned. Rubbing his eyes and sitting on the edge of the bed, he sighed heavily. It was 1.38am.

It had been almost a week since he dreamed the dream.  He slowly rose and walked the ten or so steps to the ensuite bathroom. Splashing cold water on his face, he brought his head back up to see his reflection in the rectangular mirror.

Water dripped from all angles of his face. He made no effort to wipe them away. Staring back at him was a weary looking thirty three year old man. Opening the cabinet to the side of the mirror, he pulled out his stash of sleeping pills. Popping one in his mouth, he cupped a hand and poured water into it. Gulping down the pill, he returned to his side of the bed.

Sitting upright for a moment, he ran through the dream once again. His wife running toward him telling him to beware the shadows and the man in black. Just as he neared her everytime, he would wake.

But this time was somehow different.

Did a noise wake him this time in conjuction with the dream?

He checked the bedside alarm system. It was specifically housed in his bedside locker after the last intrusion.

He froze.

The red light was steady.

He didn’t move initially, fearing what might come next.

Moving slowly, he reached down underneath the console of the alarm system. He wrapped his hand around the Glock handgun.

The wooden floorboard creaked on the landing.

Eric slipped silently down the side of the bed, positioning himself.

He waited for the door to open.

His hands were slippery with sweat. Beads of impending doom creased his forehead.

The door slowly moved open.

The shadow appeared. Led by the flash of a silver gun.

Eric squeezed the trigger.

Ooze.

Sinead poked at it and then picked at it. Catching the edge of the scab and lifting ever so slowly with her fingernail. It lifted slightly but she lost her grip. Then thinking badly of herself, tapped it back down, trying to undo what she had done.

Then morbid curiousity got the better of her. No one was watching.

She pushed down on it and a clear fluid ebbed from the sides of the healing wound. It was spongy to the touch and not crusty as she had first thought. She recoiled in disgust, not expecting that to happen.

Grabbing a tissue from the bedside locker, she dabbed at the clear fluid, mopping it up. Once it had stopped gushing, she became bored.

Glancing at the brownish skin on the top of the knee, she couldn't help herself.

She flicked at it with her thumbnail. Then with her index finger.

It came loose and reddish pink skin was briefly visible as the top of the scab came loose but collapsed back down onto the wound.

That was the last thing she did before falling off the chair beside the bed. Sinead didn't hear her mother enter the room behind her. She gave her a clip of a slap behind the head.
Her mother was disgusted. 

How could a six year old pick a scab like that? In a hospital room?

Off her still unconscious grandmother?

Thunderstorm.

It started as a rumble. The lights flickered on and off. Rocky woke from his slumber beside the fire and growled at nothing, or so I thought. I continued to eat my dinner for one with the only other noise in the room being that of the clock ticking by. Then as if a heavy articulated truck went by the house, the ground shook. Rocky growled once more. The clock chimed as the hour struck. The tree started to sway in the front garden as the wind picked up.
The story of how my grandmother explained how God sends us thunderstorms somehow clicked in my mind. "He's just rolling oil barrels across the sky," she'd say. She could never explain the lightening though. 
The lights dimmed this time for approximately two seconds, and then the rumble sounded like it was just overhead. The rain started to fall, lightly at first. I paid no heed and hungrily ate. 
Then the rain started pelting off the window beside me. The sky changed to a blue-grey colour. The last thing I remember was pushing the soggy broccoli around my plate before the golf ball sized hailstones burst through the window and glass lacerated my cheekbone. I struggled to move away before the real disaster struck. 
I woke up in A&E with a broken arm, cuts to my face and neck. Rocky escaped without any injuries, thank God. But my home was ruined. As I moved away from the front window from the hailstones, the tree was struck by lightening and had crashed through the front of the house. It missed me by inches.