Thursday 4 July 2019

The Changeling - Chapter one


The Changeling

A short story in instalments

By Serendipity Says



Chapter one

John sighed as he fell onto the sofa. Never in his life had he felt so drained! He reached for his cup of tea and idly flicked through the photo album that he had found in the cupboard.

He smiled as he looked at himself playing on the beach, aged around 4. His Mother holding his hand as he jumped over the little waves.

Ah, he used to love those holidays. Being an only child had its advantages – no siblings to vie for Mum's attention!

It had been a tough few months. His beloved Mum had passed away around ten years ago, her body ravaged by the cancer which had taken her life.

And then, his Dad! Suddenly and without warning he had passed away from a massive heart attack!

John looked around at the home in which he had spent his childhood.

And a strange childhood it had been in many ways. Mum and Dad had never encouraged him to make friends, never liked him to go out and play.

They had home schooled him, so apart from routine medical appointments, he didn't really spend much time away from the house until he had started work.

Now his parents were gone! It felt bitter sweet. He missed them so much, after all, they had been his life! But he also felt free. He could live his own life now, do what he wanted. Make friends, maybe even meet a nice girl and settle down.

Between looking after Mum and working, he had never felt the need to settle down. But now, in his early 50's maybe it was time to change that at last.

This won't do, he thought, I still have this rambling old house to deal with!

With no family, it had fallen to John to pick through the house, looking for anything important, sifting through the 'stuff' that had accumulated through the years.

He hauled himself out of the sofa. What next! He thought. There's the attic. He had looked through most of the house, but had left the attic. He hadn't been up there for years. Goodness knows what rubbish he would find up there!

He climbed the ladder and flicked on the torch and looked around in surprise. It was clear! There was hardly anything there! He stepped out onto the floor and scanned around. Nothing. Nothing at all! He had expected clutter everywhere.

He flashed his torch this way and that. The light fell onto a small box, tucked right under the eaves at the front. John picked his way across, treading carefully, as the flooring looked rotten.

Finally he reached the box. It was tied with a blue ribbon, dusty with age. What could be inside? Old photos or documents?

He untied the bow and took off the lid. A pile of newspaper clippings fell out. He shone the torch on them, looking at the headlines.

Toddler missing, screamed one, abduction, kidnapping! One after one he read the clippings. As he got further into the box, the clippings got shorter. The half pages became paragraphs, the paragraphs became a few sentences. It was as though the newspapers had given up, lost interest.

Who was this toddler, had he ever been found? Why had his parents kept the clippings?

At the bottom of the box, he found a grainy photograph of a young boy. He shone the torch on it, trying to see the photo more clearly in the darkness of the attic.

The child looked familiar somehow, as though he had seen him before. Then realisation dawned and he dropped the box!

This photo was going to change his life for ever! His life as he knew it tumbled, like the newspapers tumbling from the box on his lap, his mind reeled. What did this mean? Could it be true?

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