Beautiful Days
The second installment of my flash novella.
Beautiful Days
Shades of green melted into each other as the bus barreled down the highway. Sam struggled to keep his eyes open while staring past his reflection in the window. He stretched his feet out beneath the seat in front of him and rested his head in his hand. Occasionally the bus passed a car or two, but the majority of the trip was spent on a lonely road. There wasn't an exceptional amount of people on the bus itself, either. Most of the passengers had gotten off at the last stop, in the city. There was no reason for people to venture out to Sandston unless they lived there.
Once a year the county fair was held a few miles out from the small town, but even then most people just drove in for a day trip. Sam wished he could do that, but without a car he was all but stranded. Yawning, Sam shifted his weight around in the hard seat. The trip from campus was about four hours one-way, with a transfer in the city. He'd been lucky this time; the bus he was on dropped off in the city, but continued all the way to Sandston.
The greens began to show flecks of blue as the trees thinned and sky peeked through, but Sam's eyes had become focused on something different. He thought, for a moment, that his reflection was no longer his own. He saw his mother's face, just as it had been when she disappeared so many years ago, her big brown eyes smiling at him and her auburn hair hanging delicately around her face. Her skin was flawless, like porcelain, and her full red lips curved up at the sides into a loving smile.
Sam's gaze became unfocused as he remembered that day. He'd come running in the back door, progress report in hand, grinning from ear to ear. He'd tossed his red and blue backpack- printed to look like Spider Man's suit- on the sofa as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. All the while he'd been screaming 'Mom! Mom!' loud enough to scare the dog out of the room. The kitchen was empty, but for a mug on the counter - still steaming. Sam glanced around the room anxiously, and, having deduced his mother was not present, took off into another room.
He ran up and down the hall, poking his head in every room. 'Mom?' he asked the air each time. Having ruled out the first floor, eight year old Sam headed for the stairs. He tripped several times running up them, finally coming onto the landing above with rug burns on both his face and hands. His progress report had become bent and tattered, but Sam clutched it tightly as he ran through the hallways of the second floor of the house.
Finally he made his way back down the stairs; his feet were heavy and each step thudded and seemed to echo throughout the empty house. He sat down on the bottom step which faced the front door with tears now welling in his eyes. His face grew hot, despite the air conditioning, and the tears that had begun to well in his eyes now streamed freely down his face. Somehow, he knew something had happened. And it was there that Sam sat until his father arrived home hours later.
Sam's gaze focused once again on the passing trees as the bus crawled up an incline. The police never found his mother, nor a reason for her disappearance. There were no signs of forced entry, no signs of a struggle. It was as though she had just vanished into the air. Soon after the incident, Sam's dad had become detached. He stayed at work later and later, until some nights where he wouldn't come back at all. Sam took care of himself, and the older lady across the street took to checking on him daily.
The bus pulled over the crest of the hill, the town of Sandston now spread out before it. As it began the decline into the city, Sam began to feel the pangs of regret. He wished he'd tried harder to find a job around campus, as many of his friends had managed. Perhaps he could have saved up for a car, but there was still the trouble of finding housing between semesters. As the town grew larger around him, Sam wished he hadn't come back. There was nothing here for him but an empty house and the rare presence of his father.
Part 1: Black Out
Part 3: Missing Piece
Beautiful Days
Shades of green melted into each other as the bus barreled down the highway. Sam struggled to keep his eyes open while staring past his reflection in the window. He stretched his feet out beneath the seat in front of him and rested his head in his hand. Occasionally the bus passed a car or two, but the majority of the trip was spent on a lonely road. There wasn't an exceptional amount of people on the bus itself, either. Most of the passengers had gotten off at the last stop, in the city. There was no reason for people to venture out to Sandston unless they lived there.
Once a year the county fair was held a few miles out from the small town, but even then most people just drove in for a day trip. Sam wished he could do that, but without a car he was all but stranded. Yawning, Sam shifted his weight around in the hard seat. The trip from campus was about four hours one-way, with a transfer in the city. He'd been lucky this time; the bus he was on dropped off in the city, but continued all the way to Sandston.
The greens began to show flecks of blue as the trees thinned and sky peeked through, but Sam's eyes had become focused on something different. He thought, for a moment, that his reflection was no longer his own. He saw his mother's face, just as it had been when she disappeared so many years ago, her big brown eyes smiling at him and her auburn hair hanging delicately around her face. Her skin was flawless, like porcelain, and her full red lips curved up at the sides into a loving smile.
Sam's gaze became unfocused as he remembered that day. He'd come running in the back door, progress report in hand, grinning from ear to ear. He'd tossed his red and blue backpack- printed to look like Spider Man's suit- on the sofa as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. All the while he'd been screaming 'Mom! Mom!' loud enough to scare the dog out of the room. The kitchen was empty, but for a mug on the counter - still steaming. Sam glanced around the room anxiously, and, having deduced his mother was not present, took off into another room.
He ran up and down the hall, poking his head in every room. 'Mom?' he asked the air each time. Having ruled out the first floor, eight year old Sam headed for the stairs. He tripped several times running up them, finally coming onto the landing above with rug burns on both his face and hands. His progress report had become bent and tattered, but Sam clutched it tightly as he ran through the hallways of the second floor of the house.
Finally he made his way back down the stairs; his feet were heavy and each step thudded and seemed to echo throughout the empty house. He sat down on the bottom step which faced the front door with tears now welling in his eyes. His face grew hot, despite the air conditioning, and the tears that had begun to well in his eyes now streamed freely down his face. Somehow, he knew something had happened. And it was there that Sam sat until his father arrived home hours later.
Sam's gaze focused once again on the passing trees as the bus crawled up an incline. The police never found his mother, nor a reason for her disappearance. There were no signs of forced entry, no signs of a struggle. It was as though she had just vanished into the air. Soon after the incident, Sam's dad had become detached. He stayed at work later and later, until some nights where he wouldn't come back at all. Sam took care of himself, and the older lady across the street took to checking on him daily.
The bus pulled over the crest of the hill, the town of Sandston now spread out before it. As it began the decline into the city, Sam began to feel the pangs of regret. He wished he'd tried harder to find a job around campus, as many of his friends had managed. Perhaps he could have saved up for a car, but there was still the trouble of finding housing between semesters. As the town grew larger around him, Sam wished he hadn't come back. There was nothing here for him but an empty house and the rare presence of his father.
Part 1: Black Out
Part 3: Missing Piece