Yes, it’s another Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction contest entry. It’s unusual for me to do two so close together, but when I looked at the picture, I couldn’t resist. I’m planning a vacation to an island in the San Juan’s and the picture made me think of what might be while I’m on vacation.
I read through the other entries, and I think I have put a unique spin on the story.
This week’s prompt is:
That kid in the picture is my little brother, Andy. In 1987, he got carried away by an undertow at this very beach. The authorities never recovered his body.
I took this picture of him yesterday, when he walked up out of the water as if nothing had happened.
And this is my story based on the prompt:
For just a moment I’m sure I’ve lost my mind. The boy, it’s Andy, my twin, but it can’t be Andy. Andy died. When we were kids, Andy died. The undertow took him from us, never to be found again.
I draw near, wary that a grownup approaching a young boy might look suspicious. But I can’t stay away. I have to see this boy. This ghost I’ve just captured on film.
As I suspected, a woman rushes up, grabs the boy’s hand, and asks me what I’m doing. The boy pulls away and runs further up the beach.
“It’s just… He looks like my brother, Andy. When we were kids.”
Never taking her eyes off the boy, the woman must sense my sadness.
“That’s funny.” She smiles, nodding toward the boy. “His name’s Andrew. But we call him Andy. For some reason, his father was adamant he be called Andy, wouldn’t consider anything else.”
“Daddy, Daddy,” the boy shouts holding up a starfish. “Look what I found.”
The father looks up from where he sits on the beach and waves at the boy.
There’s something about the father. I move closer.
The man stands, picks up the boy, and my heart skips a beat. Can it be? My brother, Andy, fully grown, my twin, stands before me. I walk up to him.
Hugging the boy safe, he extends his hand. “Name’s George. Can I help you?”
My mouth drops open. “Were you adopted?”
He frowns. “How’d you know?”