Optimistically Cynical: A Short Story Compilation- 1

HAUNTED VISION

I'm in luck, my neighbor, Georgina, has come outside with her own kids, who make a beeline for the sandbox and my own children. They all immediately engage in rowdy play, while Georgina joins me on the porch.

We exchange pleasantries while we watch the children. Then it dawns on me. I turn to my porch companion and ask if she wouldn't mind watching the kids, while I tend to a matter in the backyard.

She agrees, there's no reason not to. I thank her and hasten my steps to the backyard. I search for my miniscule doppelganger all over the place, but I can't find Stevie. I start to get tense and nearly call out to him, but it wouldn't have been prudent, since I'm the only one who can hear, or see him.

I am well on my way to panicking, when I recall a crucial detail. I had forgotten the narrow corridor between the back of the garage and fence. It used to be my favorite hiding place and it's here that I find my ghostly counterpart.

He's squat down with his hands over his ears, mimicking the fetal position. Now, I'm really scared. There is only one reason I ever used that position.

You see, My parents didn't always get along and the fights they used to have, were terrible, to say the least. Whenever they started, I would stop whatever I was doing and assume that position.

The first time they found me like that, they realized they needed to make some changes. It was a long and arduous process, but eventually, they stopped fighting each other, at least when I was around, and I never assumed that position again, at least, I thought I didn't. But then, why was Stevie in the position when I had stopped using it, way before my amnesia?

The only other time I would have used that position was whenever I was absolutely terrified, but I could not recall any other event, that would so scare me. What's more, I was never afraid in my secret place, at least not so far as I knew, as I was completely isolated from the outside world and thus, felt completely safe.

Whatever's scaring Stevie is something that had followed him to the special, safe spot. I approach and place my hand on the trembling boy's shoulder. His head shoots upward, his eyes flowing with tears. He jump up and hugs me. Whatever had scared him was gone. I asked him, but he wouldn't tell me, couldn't tell me. That made me really scared.

Days go by with no change. Stevie carries on playing with my children, though they do not see him, and nothing unusual transpires. I'm starting to wonder when the event is to occur. I keep my eye on the hiding place, but I never see anything out of the ordinary. I really want this ordeal to be over with.

Then it occurs to me, what happens to Stevie once it's over? Will he still be around? Will I still be able to talk with him? Or should I have to take a page from all the old children's stories, leave behind all the wonderful trappings of youth and truly grow up, and live the hum-drum life of an adult?

But I'm not ready to be an adult. I like being a grown up kid. I like playing with my kids and just being a kid myself. It gets me wondering about the event that transpired, the one that gave me amnesia. I start to wonder whether it was an outside force that made me forget, or if I somehow induced it in myself. This adds a darker shade to my wonderings.

Because if that is the case, do I even want to know? The answer makes me nervous, but I can't deny, that I'm still curious, even though my curiosity is borne of caution. I need to avoid the event. How else can I ensure that Stevie will stick around? How else am I to know that I will stay a child? The simple truth is, I needed to be me. I am not going to be anyone else.

I wish that my decision had been the end of it. But the truth is, it's keeping me up at night. And it is the only thing that I really gave any thought to. In fact, more than once do I find myself involved in an activity feeling as though I had just waken from a long sleep.