Fiction: Quicksand

Posted by on Mar 20, 2013 in Fiction | 16 comments

I can never go back there, never go back to that time of innocence before I knew that my life was built upon quicksand.

As a child, they had always told me that my father had died when I was a toddler.  Everyone told me that.  They told me that I had his eyes and that my brother had his curly dark hair.  And, when my son was born, they said he was the spitting image of his grandfather.

I believed them.  All of them.  All of my aunts and uncles and my grandparents and my mother.  All of the family friends.  All of my teachers.  All of them.

Until last week in the park when I caught sight of an older man watching my son intently, too intently.  Too closely.  Closely enough to send my mom RADAR into overdrive.

When that man started to limp toward my son, I intercepted him, cutting him off before he could reach out and touch my baby.

He was caught off guard and looked at me with eyes brimming with tears.  My eyes.

“I… I just…  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to scare you.  I just…  He’s so beautiful…”

“Who are you?” I demanded as I fished my phone out of my pocket, ready to dial 911.

“I’m… I’m Dave Jacobs.”

“What?  What kind of joke is this?”

He looked at his worn shoes as he swayed back and forth a little.

“Who are you and why are you here?  Why do you say your name  is Dave Jacobs?”  The panic in my voice was causing people to turn their heads and watch us with concern.

“Samantha…” he said as he looked up at me.

“How do you know my name?  Who are you?  What are you doing?  Who are you?”

Confusion traveled across his face.  He struggled with his words, stammering and rocking back and forth much faster now.

“I’m Dave.  Dave Jacobs.  Dave. Dave?” he repeated.

I grabbed my son’s hand and yanked him out of the sandbox.

“Mommy!” he wailed, “I play wif da twuck in da sand!”

“Not now, baby.”

As I rushed back to my car the other parents hovered closer to their children.

The man with my father’s name was frozen on the playground, he looked wildly about and tried to talk to a few of the harried mothers, but none of them responded to him as they, too, scooped their children up and ran for the protection of their vehicles.

I locked us into the car and dialed 911 to report a crazy man in the park.  A crazy man with my eyes and my father’s name.

I watched as he was escorted into the police cruiser.  I gave a quick statement to the businesslike officer.  I left out the part where he knew my name.

Then I drove to my mother’s house and demanded to know what really happened to my father all those years ago.

She was silent for along moment, then she said evenly, “He died.”

Hey, it’s my weekly fiction post linked up to the speakeasy at Yeah Write! If you enjoy reading flash fiction and poetry, give it a shot — you never know what you might discover.

16 Comments

  1. Sandra Crook March 20, 2013

    Urrgh! Eeerie. Unlikely to be a ghost if all the other mothers can see him, so I guess her mother’s not telling the truth. Dead to her, maybe.
    Sandra Crook recently posted..Going Home (Trifecta Challenge Week 69, March 2013)My Profile

    Reply
  2. Tomekha March 20, 2013

    Wow! I’d like to know what everybody’s keeping from her! .. Are you going to build out on this story? :)

    Reply
  3. Stacie @ Snaps and Bits March 20, 2013

    This is really good! It’s triggering a memory – did you write a piece related to this before? What a backstory there must be – would love to know it!
    Stacie @ Snaps and Bits recently posted..Routine TestsMy Profile

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    • IASoupMama March 20, 2013

      No, I’ve not touched on these characters before. I did write one about a daughter with a dad who abused her mother — maybe you’re thinking about that one?

      Reply
  4. Suzanne March 20, 2013

    Oh wow, this is so awesomely creepy! Love the mystery and I would love to know what really happened.
    Suzanne recently posted..Speakeasy: RunawayMy Profile

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  5. christie March 20, 2013

    so well done, SoupMama. I love the opening and how you grab me from the first line. And you keep me through the last.

    Reply
    • IASoupMama March 21, 2013

      Oh, thank you! High emotion does that — probably why I like writing it so much :)

      Reply
  6. Natalie the Singingfool March 20, 2013

    Very well executed! I love the way it wraps up with the mother denying his existence…
    Natalie the Singingfool recently posted..When I Go There NowMy Profile

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    • IASoupMama March 21, 2013

      Yes, I really wanted the sense of betrayal to be real, not imagined, for her.

      Reply
  7. Bee March 20, 2013

    The suspense really moved things along, well done! I was right at the edge of my seat until the very end, just dying to know what happens. Like Natalie, I love how even when confronted with her father’s existence, her mother still denies it.
    Bee recently posted..American DreamMy Profile

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    • IASoupMama March 21, 2013

      Yeah, her family was clearly trying to protect her, but did a very poor job of it.

      Reply
  8. Anne March 20, 2013

    I truly enjoyed this. You hooked me in right away. You managed to build up the suspense very well until the end where things don’t always fall where they’re meant to land… so much like life.
    Anne recently posted..When life invitesMy Profile

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    • IASoupMama March 21, 2013

      Thank you. I’m a fan of the not-quite-satisfying ending. Fun to write, discomforting to read, LOL!

      Reply

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