Saturday, 25 May 2013


Another prompt from writeworld. I really do like their prompts. This one was a sentence
I came up with this. Oddly, about half an hour later, my son started watching old episodes of the X files and there was an episode of teens being found by the road with amnesia. What are the odds? lol
He held out a pair of track pants and a long sleeved t-shirt to her.
She looked at them in disbelief. “Your clothes won’t fit me.”
He had to be six feet four and built like a line backer. She was five feet four in her bare feet and weighed maybe 120 pounds wringing wet. She was both right now.
He shrugged and dropped them at her feet. “It’s that or go naked.” The pool of water was spreading around her feet and she started to shiver. “Or freeze,” he added.
She scooped them up before they started to soak up the water. “I-is there a bathroom?” she asked.
He gave her a look.
Of course there was a bathroom. Stupid question. “I-I m-mean may I use the bathroom?”
He nodded.
She scuttled for the door he indicated. Not that there was a lot of doors to choose from. Two. That was all. A bathroom, and she assumed, a bedroom. It wasn’t exactly the height of luxury. She glanced longingly at the shower.
A knock at the door startled her enough to emit a startled squeak.
“Have a shower, if you want,” he said through the door. “Clean towels are under the sink.”
“Thank you,” she called back. She didn’t hear a response, so she hoped he had heard.
She stripped while the water heated up. There were no signs of a female sharing the house. No girl things.
A shower restored her humanity but not her memory. The track pants thankfully had a drawstring waist, but they hung and bunched around her waist. The t-shirt was almost a dress and at least, covered the rest. The sleeves were so long she had to fold them back on themselves. When she emerged from the bathroom he was watching football. She padded out quietly in the athletic socks he had thoughtfully provided. The heels of them were halfway up her calves.
He had wiped up the puddle she had left on the hard wooden floor.
He looked up as she approached, but said nothing. He was sitting in the recliner and she took up a position on the sofa. She wasn’t sure how far away from him to sit; too far was rude, too close was more than she could handle.
He seemed to notice the distance. He gave her another look.
They watched the game silently for a few minutes.
He cleared his throat.
“I don’t know, okay?” she said.
He made a snort noise. “No car. No shoes. No bag.”
“No wallet. No ID. No clue,” she added. She had been incredibly lucky that anyone had been driving past on the road, let alone actually picked her up in the storm. It was further good luck that he lived not half a mile down the road. She would never have seen the house from the road as she was walking in the rain, and it might be more accurate to call it a double wide. The drive had gone on for what seemed like much further than they had driven on the main road.
She was extremely doubtful about the whole situation but she didn’t really have a lot of choice. She could not walk any further with no shoes and no idea of where she was.
His eyes lifted and seemed to scan over her head. “Any bumps? Abrasions?”
“No. I do have a headache, but I think it is just from trying to remember too hard.”
He nodded. “Name?” he tried.
She shook her head mutely.
He stood, leaned down, grabbed her hand and pulled her sleeve up her arm with the other hand.
She protested, until she realised what he was looking for; needle marks.
“Huh,” he said.
Her arm was bare.
“Teeth,” he said.
“What am I? A horse?”
“Teeth,” he repeated.
She gritted them and showed them to him.
She did.
“No fillings. Nice, straight white teeth. You’re not poor. Any name labels on your clothes?”
She shook her head. She had checked in the bathroom.
He resumed his seat.
She glared at him.
He ignored her. “You can come to the station tomorrow.”
“What? You’re a cop?”
He nodded. Then made a noise when what was clearly his team fumbled the ball.
“A cop,” she repeated.
“Does that frighten you?”
She thought about it. “N-no.”
“You don’t sound sure about that.”
“I don’t even know my name. I have no idea if I am a criminal on the run or not.”
“So we’ll check and find out.” He gave her another look. “Will you be here in the morning?’
She shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere else to go.” She paused. “And I feel safe here.” She knew that was true, the second she said it. Her stomach growled audibly.
He chuckled. “Hungry, huh?”
She was distracted by the game. “That was an encroachment,” she cried. “That should be a five yard penalty.”
His eyebrows raised. “So you know football,” he said.
“Pffft,” she said. “Anyone knows that!”
He chuckled. “You really do know football.”
“Wow. I guess I do.”
He stood. “The next question is, can you cook?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“So let’s find out.”
He held his hand out to her and after a pause she took it. He pulled her to her feet.
“I haven’t introduced myself. The name’s Jeremy. Jeremy Sheffield.”
“Hello, Officer Sheffield.”
© AM Gray 2013

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