Wordsmiths Fiction Week 2: Season 24 – The Envelope
Diego never minded working the night shift at the 24 hour gas station outside of town. It was quiet. He would bring a book or listen to music while waiting for the occasional customer usually truckers, college kids, or lost tourists. But on the seventh night of his new shift schedule something changed.
At exactly 2:17 a.m a rusted blue sedan pulled into the lot. The headlights caste long shadows across the glass doors. The driver did not get out. He just stared. His pale face and eyes fixed directly on Diego. After about thirty seconds the car slowly backed out and drove away without a word.
“Weird,” Diego whispered to himself. But he shrugged it off. Maybe the guy was just lost. The next night exactly at the same time the same car returned. Same behaviour. The driver parked. Stared. Drove away. Now it felt strange.
Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay
By the third night Diego was getting nervous. He kept glancing at the clock. As the time approached 2:17 his stomach tightened. And there it was the rusted blue sedan again. No sound. No action. Just those cold eyes staring from behind the windshield. When he told his supervisor the old man just said “People are weird” and went back to his coffee. But Diego thought that something was wrong.
On the fourth night he decided to confront the driver. He watched the sedan pull in again exactly on time. Diego took a deep breath, pushed open the glass door, and stepped outside. But the car was gone. Vanished without a sound. Diego rubbed his eyes. Was he imagining it? No… he knew what he saw.
Later that same shift while throwing out the trash behind the station something caught his eye near the ice machine. A plain white envelope. Clean, dry, and untouched by the dirt around it. On the front written in neat block letters: DIEGO. He picked it up carefully. There was no return address. No stamp. Just his name.
With shaky fingers he opened the envelope. Inside there was a single photo. An old photo, faded at the corners. It showed a little boy who was around six or seven years old and sitting on a swing set. Standing behind the boy was a tall man with a warm smile.
Diego’s breath caught in his throat. It was him. The boy was him. And the man in the photo… that face… it was the same face from the blue sedan. But Diego did not recognize him as anyone from his current life. Who was he?
He flipped the photo over. On the back written in the same block handwriting: I am sorry I left. But now you need to know the truth.
Diego sat on the curb, confused. Left? The only man he knew growing up was his mother’s boyfriend who is a quiet man who did not talk much and left when Diego was ten. He never knew his real father. His mother never spoke of him.
Now someone possibly this man was watching him night after night. And leaving secret messages.The next night Diego waited by the window clutching the photo. When 2:17 came the car returned.This time Diego ran outside. The driver did not move. Diego approached slowly with pounding heart. He tapped on the window.
Nothing. Then the driver slowly rolled the window down. Up close, Diego could see it clearly. It was the same man from the photo. Older, sadder, but unmistakably him. “Who are you?” Diego asked. The man looked at him for a long time, then whispered, “I’m your father.” Diego stepped back and shocked.
“I had to leave,” the man continued. “There were things I could not explain then. But now... they are happening again.”
“What things?” Diego asked.
“I’m being followed,” he said. “Watched. I tried to warn your mother years ago. She did not believe me. And now you are part of it too.” He handed Diego a second envelope and started the engine. “Read it when I’m gone. But leave this place, Diego. They know where you are now.” Before Diego could ask more, the man drove off into the night.
Diego ran inside and tore open the second envelope. Inside was a letter and another photo.
The letter read:
"They are watching people like us. People who can remember things that have not happened yet. That photo of you on the swing that day never existed in real life. But I saw it in a dream before you were born. So did your mother. That is how we met. We are different, Diego. You have probably had the dreams, too. Don’t ignore them. They’ll come for you when you do. Leave this town. Burn these letters. And never stay in one place too long."
The second photo was even stranger it showed Diego standing in the gas station. But behind him reflected in the window was a tall shadowy figure with glowing eyes. Diego looked up heart racing. He turned around quickly. Nothing. But he didn’t wait.
Image by Raphael Stäger from Pixabay
That morning as the sun rose Diego packed his things left the gas station keys on the counter and drove away. Far away. He did not know where he was going but he knew he could not stay. And every night at exactly 2:17 a.m., he checked his mirrors. Just in case.
I invite @afzalqamar, @wuddi and @chant to join this contest.