Difference of a Year

a stab at the more sci-fi/fantasy genre

The sun rose pink over the inlet.  Across the water over the trees and houses the new day rose gently then with a quickening pace.  With no curtains on the windows facing the water the dawn quickly woke the man sleeping on the sofa in the living room.  Rolling over away from the sun, he tried to go back to sleep.  But the scene was too perfect.  The sun coming up over the water.  The river flowing out to the nearby ocean.  The boats anchored in the channel.  Birds flying low over the water, and dew fresh on the grass set the image.  He turned back to look, appreciate the whole thing.  It was not very often he got up to appreciate the dawn.  Long nights made him too tired for such things.  The few hours sleep this night were enough.  He looked out the windows for a moment, one quiet moment, before turning back again to try and sleep.

He was half aware of the sound of a screen door closing.  All the doors were locked.  He always locked the doors, even when staying on this little island.  Somehow the noise didn’t really wake him fully.  He heard it, and knew it was weird, but it didn’t matter.  Next thing a hand touched his shoulder.  It did not startle him fully awake.

“Dad.  Dad, is that you?”  It was a soft voice trying both to not wake anyone and also to be heard by one person.  With a gentle nudging on his shoulder by the same small hand, “Oh dad, please be you.  Please get up.”

The man turned back around, lying on the couch to see his son standing there.  Something was not quite right, or rather, something was wrong.  Lying there the boy looked down on him, was looking down on him from too far on high.

“Dad, get up.  It has been so long.  I need you.”

“What are you talking about?  I just saw you last night when I put you to bed.”  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and put on his glasses.

“No, that was a long time ago.  So much has happened.  I can’t tell you but I am just so happy to see you again.”  As he sat up the boy hugged him tight.

“What is wrong with you?”

“They came back.  Just the old ones.  But I got to come see you again.  If you want I can stay but it means that the old me has to go.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s me.  But I’m ten now.”

“Alright, go back to bed.  This is nonsense.”

“No, it’s the truth.  I’m ten now.  I lost you but they sent me back to see if you will take me.  If you want you can have me and they take me when I was nine.”

“What? Who’s ‘they’?”

‘I can’t tell you.  They made me promise or they’ll punish people.  I don’t know why they picked me.  I think they liked me better when I was nine.”

The man just hung his head and shook it.  Looking up he stared at the boy, looking for the truth.  Eventually he saw it.  This was a ten year old boy who looked exactly like his nine year old son who should be sleeping in the bedroom.

“Dad, I really missed you.  Things have gotten so bad.”

“Tell me, please.”

“I can’t.  The elder ones won’t let me.  I get to see you again, but I can’t tell you anything.  I’m sorry.  I’m really, really sorry.”  My ten-year-old son was crying but held more composure than a boy.  He held the dignity of a grown man who had seen too much suffering in the world. The man wanted to hold him.  The boy wrapped his arms around the man as he held his head tight to his chest.  The boy cried and the man’s heart broke.

Just then a door was heard opening behind them.  Footsteps on the wooden floor made the man turn around to see a nine-year-old son standing in the short hallway.  The dad turned to go to him but still managed to take and hold onto the ten-year-old’s hand.

Reaching out to wrap a left arm around the young son, he suddenly noticed his right had was empty.  Turning back from the son, the son was gone.

“Who was that, dad?” the son asked, wiping his eyes.

“No one.  It was nothing.” He answered quietly as he sat back on the couch.  He began to cry as he pulled the boy closer.  The tears soon stopped as they were just a waste of time.

Reviews

[Jane Taylor Hardy]

The words gripped my attention....I hung on every word...rushing for answers at the end....which left me softly pensive. Beautifully penned.

[Doug Scibeck]

Thank you for the review. It is much appreciated and gratifying.