This is another short story I wrote that I thought would be fun to post. I wrote it for OWFI's photo contest. Let me know what you think!
The man on the bench closed his eyes against the bright sunlight and tried to block out the grinding gears of the Greyhound buses that were in constant motion around the bus stop. He re arranged his backpack for a more comfortable position, trying, always trying, to find the peace that ever eluded him.
His mind would not cease it’s constant mantra of "You’re my father." One simple DNA test would confirm what the girl claimed. He knew he was the man in the pictures beside her, but his brain failed to make the connection. He just didn’t remember. Anything. How odd not to remember a lifetime captured on Kodak paper. The lines between his brows creased as he tried to remember. He concentrated on the girl, Maggie, with hair the color of rich caramel, and beseeching eyes that were pools of melted Hershey chocolate.
His life had been a mystery. For the last six months he had been a vagrant, a wanderer. Picking up odd jobs in whatever town he happened to be. He remembered nothing of his former life, save the car, a black 1967 Mustang. The night had been pitch black, the air like water. The rain had fallen in blinding sheets and he had awakened wrapped around a tree. He walked away from the wreckage unscathed. Except for one thing. His mind had been washed clean of any and all memory.
The girl had told him his name was Carter Wells. He had given himself the name Joe. Fear and apprehension built in his chest as he continued to ponder his situation. Why did his past frighten him? How had the girl found him? What kind of man was he? Maggie had said he had been a mechanic by trade. He had no recollection of such trade.
"Fear of the unknown can be all consuming at times." The stranger had appeared out of nowhere and stood, simply looking at the man lying on the bench.
Carter opened one eye to the tall, blonde man. He swung his legs off the bench to give room for the man who had spoken.
"That doesn’t matter." The blonde stated, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "What matters, is that you remember."
"How do you know about that?" Carter rubbed the gray stubble on his chin that had sprung up overnight. His aviator sunglasses flopped down over his warm brown eyes. He shoved them back on top of his head, agitated. "Seriously. Are you some sort of John Edward nut?"
"Of course not." The fellow wanderer replied with just a hint of haughty superiority.
"Then how do you know I can’t remember?" He echoed.
"The girl has been praying for your safe return."
Carter looked incredulously at the stranger.
The stranger reached out, placing his hand on Carter’s shoulder. A warmth spread throughout his body, as he said "Welcome back, Carter."
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