One.

The girl had been walking along the edge of the small pond in the park. She had been waiting for someone. A friend. A boy she had not seen in a long time. At one point, he was everything to her, and she was all the he loved. But she had moved, and had not said anything. She was too scared. To confused. She had never known what to say. So she just left, without a goodbye. But a week ago he had called. She apologized, and he forgave her. They arranged to meet in the park to talk, just to see each other. But he was late. The girl got the feeling that the boy would never come, but she waited, not knowing what else to do. The girl soon tired of walking. She sat down on a nearby bench. It was evening and the sky was growing darker. The orange sun was halfway hidden behind the horizon. The heat of afternoon had left way for a cooler, gentler, evening breeze. Families got up to leave, and even those who were her own age were starting to desert the area. After a few minutes, only three people remained - the girl, a man, and a small boy.

 

The man was inconspicuous. He wore a sleek black suit with a candy-cane colored silk tie. Atop his head sat a black fedora with a red band. On the ground next to the bench on which he sat was a briefcase, which the girl assumed to be his. The man had a newspaper spread across his lap, but it only seemed to be a prop. He wore an expensive-looking watch on his left wrist, and kept glancing at it expectantly every few seconds, as though he was expecting something to happen. The girl found it funny that he even bothered to keep the newspaper out. It was clear he was too anxious to read it. She wondered what the man was waiting for. Although his body showed expectance, his face revealed a sort of melancholy, a sadness. The girl recognized regret in the man's eyes. As though he was repenting for something he hadn't yet done. Something he was going to do.

 

The little boy was playing near the pond. Beside him was a small boat. it's sail was ripped and there was a dent near its prow. His eyes were red and wet, as though he had been crying, but had just stopped. He was running his hands through the water, peering into the depths of the lake, as though he was looking for something, but could not find it. The little boy seemed to be in a trance, and the girl assumed that he had been there for quite some time. The girl could not see his parents. Maybe he's lost, she thought. She wanted to help the little boy. She approached him, and called out to him.

"Hey there," she said. "What's your name?"

Without looking up from the water, the little boy readily told the girl that his name was Lane. The girl sensed that something was awry. The little boy's reply seemed curt and automatic. As though it had been rehearsed. She asked him how old he was. Again the reply came, seven, as though it were memorized, practiced. The girl began to worry for the little boy. She looked at her phone to check the time. It would still be another half an hour before her mom would pick her up. She slipped the phone into the back pocket of her shorts and sat down next to the boy. 

"Where are your parents?" she asked. 

The boy never answered. He shrugged his shoulders, finally looking up. He looked at the girl's face for a few seconds, and the girl smiled at him. He smiled back, but his gaze soon shifted to the man on the bench. He seemed to be expecting the man to do something. The girl turned around to see the man. He was folding his newspaper and putting into his briefcase. She realized that the boy must have been expecting the man to leave. She once again faced the boy and repeated her question.

"Where are your parents?"

The boy opened his mouth ever so slightly, as though he was thinking of saying something, but before he could, the girl suddenly felt a jab of pain in her shoulder. She almost screamed, but she couldn't. Her entire body became numb, leaving only her eyes and her ears to function. 

"Did I do everything right, Daddy?" she could hear the boy ask.

"Yeah, you did it right, kid," came a voice in reply. 

The girl opened her eyes and found herself looking into the face of the man who was sitting on the park bench. 

"Let's go, Lane," he muttered. 

It was the last thing the girl heard before everything around her became black.

Reviews

[Shep]

Good write. Still reads like a list meaning is choppy. But it shows promise. By adding those details I mentioned. Still willing to read more after you do the same. Poem for poem story for story and book for book.

[compositionc]

Like holy crap. I remember this entry from my contest. I loved it.