November 7, 2012 07:01
It seemed perfectly innocent. They were freshly bathed, well dressed, almost too well dressed for a Tuesday morning had I thought about it, and they both presented themselves with an intelligence far beyond their years. Their mother seemed embarrassed when they both ran to me, each clutching one of my hands in their tiny grips. Neither of them seemed afraid, nor did they show much emotion at all, and for a moment we just stood, unmoving, holding hands as if this were a natural occurrence.
Perplexed and without knowing how to react, I looked to their mother for some guidance. Although trying to maintain her poise, she seemed distant and somewhat aloof. When she finally regained her composure, she smoothed her dress, approached the three of us and complimented me on my suit. The children remained reticent as the idle banter of adults hovered like cartoon balloons above their heads, but their grips never wavered.
She asked if I would like a coffee, so we walked a few blocks, sharing idle conversation, the children never losing their hold on my hands. There were no introductions made, so my comments were relegated to generalities. She was referred to as ‘little girl’ and he was called ‘strapping lad’. They seemed content with these monikers and never once did they volunteer their birth names.
When the little girl finally spoke, her voice was so hushed it was almost impossible to hear over the din of the crowd. “My dad died. You look like him.” My heart seemed to quiver in my chest and I felt it break into a thousand shards. I wanted to let go of the boy’s hand and hug her. I wanted to tell her everything would be okay, but his grip remained firm so all I could do was squeeze her hand and give her a wink.
I had been so distracted by the children that I hadn’t noticed the row of houses instead of the coffee shops I had anticipated. The children had stopped in front of a brick facade and, with their stoned expressions, they turned to face their mother. The camera recorded that moment before I had a chance to react.
With their grips remaining firm, the children guided me up the stairs towards the house. The mother had managed to beat me to the door and fumbled to get the key into the lock. The hinges on the door vehemently disagreed with being opened and argued every inch of the way. Once inside the house, the children released their grip on my hands and stood together, an immovable fortress blocking the way back to the door.
As my eyes adjusted to the lack of daylight, the row of pictures in the foyer began to materialize. Each photo, almost an exact replica of what I suspected the picture would look like that was just taken outside. Although the little girl and the strapping lad were in different colored apparel, the photo would have been an exact replica. My heart rate increased. When the strapping lad finally spoke, my blood turned to ice. “Welcome home, daddy.”
As the words ‘I’m not your daddy’ tumbled from my lips, I felt a dull crack at the base of my skull. It would be the last thing I ever felt.
Posted by Polysyllabic Profundities
Categories: DPChallenge, fiction
Tags: a picture is worth 1000 words, DPchallenge, fiction, NaBloPoMo, writing challenge
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Chilling!
By Abby on November 7, 2012 at 09:40
I don’t understand how my brain works sometimes!!
By susannairn on November 7, 2012 at 09:41
omg…… i was left holding my breath
By sheran on November 7, 2012 at 10:40
Thank you!! And thanks for sharing it. 🙂
By susannairn on November 7, 2012 at 10:41
Geez, this gave me the chills. Good work.
By ourmulticolouredlife on November 7, 2012 at 10:45
Thank you so much!
By susannairn on November 7, 2012 at 10:49
Love Love Love it, very chilly 🙂 Awesome job!
By Angie on November 7, 2012 at 15:50
Thank you!!
By susannairn on November 8, 2012 at 14:21
Incredible, very gripping.
By Katie on November 7, 2012 at 17:36
Thank you!
By susannairn on November 7, 2012 at 21:28
Haha. Good ending. Come to think about it those kids do look like Chuckie.
By Kozo on November 7, 2012 at 17:56
I thought the same thing!! Thank you.
By susannairn on November 7, 2012 at 21:28
Good WOW!!!!!!
By Tina on November 7, 2012 at 19:47
Thank you!!
By susannairn on November 7, 2012 at 21:28
Oh my! This is amazing. I realised when I finished reading it that I had been holding my breath. What a fantastic story! Great ending 😀
By diannegray on November 8, 2012 at 14:10
In fact you could turn this theme into a novel – the serial “Daddy killers”! Who would suspect a woman and her two children…:D
By diannegray on November 8, 2012 at 14:13
Great minds think alike!! I’ve already started making notes. 😉
By susannairn on November 8, 2012 at 14:19
Thank you so much!!! 😀
By susannairn on November 8, 2012 at 14:19
Good one! 🙂 I had to give it a try too.
By Rick Mallery on November 8, 2012 at 14:27
I’ll have to go and check out the competition!! 😉
By susannairn on November 8, 2012 at 14:31
Ouch! Didn’t see that coming.
By cobbledtoolbox on November 9, 2012 at 12:07
They’re sneaky….those little buggers!! 😀
By susannairn on November 9, 2012 at 13:22
Haha. Good one! That’s quite an imagination you have there.
By Jhaneel on November 12, 2012 at 10:37
Thank you. My mind works in mysterious ways!! 🙂
By susannairn on November 12, 2012 at 10:40
That left me wondering how many more were there after… hm… you ) Ufff. That’s horror! ))
By artmoscow on November 12, 2012 at 17:19
My mind works in mysterious ways!! 🙂 Thanks for reading.
By susannairn on November 12, 2012 at 18:01
Where do you go for those thoughts? My dark ones only comes at nighttime…
Excellent!
By swozy on November 12, 2012 at 22:19
Thank you! I think I’ve read too many Dean Koontz novels!! 😉
By susannairn on November 13, 2012 at 07:11
Wow chilling you should publish that
By rody on May 4, 2013 at 10:06
Thank you! I appreciate that very much!
By Polysyllabic Profundities on May 4, 2013 at 20:40
Nice….
http://dorisdolina.wordpress.com
By dorisdolina on June 6, 2013 at 21:10