Fiction|Suspense
A Visit Down Memory Lane
Memories are strange occurrences easily warped…
As Evelyn gazed out of the open truck window, her fingers danced in the sunshine. Leaves in vibrant shades of red, orange, and yellow floated on the gentle breeze creating a fragrant carpet. Leaning her head towards the window, she inhaled deeply of her favorite season. Releasing a contented sigh, she leaned back on the bench seat and rested her hand on her husband’s thigh.
Jacob glanced at his wife, smiling warmly, and squeezed her hand. He could still picture her ten years earlier like it was yesterday. She took his breath away as she walked up the aisle in a sparkling, cream gown hugging her slender frame. He could smell the memory of the faint aroma of gardenias and vanilla as she stood radiantly before him.
The couple slowly puttered down the quiet road in the rusted pickup. The autumn music of birds singing, crickets chirping, and crunching leaves under the balding tires was a soul-soothing melody they both needed after life in the city.
As they rounded the curve in the road, the small town of Bakersfield came into view. The duo straightened and fidgeted on the tattered seat in anticipation of their weekend getaway — and reliving their honeymoon.
The town welcome sign, once painted a bold blue and with crisp, white letters, now welcomed them with faded, peeling paint and an overgrowth of weeds.
The couple glanced at each other. Evelyn shrugged, “I guess they have some town maintenance to do. Oh! Let’s go to that little pizzeria we went to! What was it…”
With one exuberant voice, they both exclaimed in their best Italian accent, “Papa Vino’s!”
Laughing, they turned onto Main Street and pulled into a parking space half a block down the road. Leaning forward, they both stared through the windshield at the sign hanging over the door. An apple-shaped sign that looked like it had seen better years displayed Red Apple Baked Goods in equally weathered letters.
His voice tinged with disappointment, Jacob gestured toward the bakery. “Eve, you want me to get you something?”
She nodded and they both stepped out of the truck. As Jacob opened the door to the bakery, a child wearing a skeleton costume jumped out loudly enjoying his cookie. “Om-nom-nom.”
Eve smiled as she watched the child skip-dance across the street before she walked over to an elderly lady sweeping the sidewalk a couple of stores away.
Holding out her hand to the woman, Eve smiled warmly. “Good morning, my name is Evelyn. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
The old woman stared blankly at Eve.
Unperturbed, she smiled and tried again. “Good morning, it’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
The small woman craned her head and squinted at Eve. Then in a shaky voice, “Why would you want a pocketful of hay, dearie? Maybe you need something to eat from the bakery — then go to the park. They’re having — I mean, they be having Pirate Day for the children, you know. Arrggh.” She continued her sweeping as if the conversation was finished.
A little confused, Eve tried again, much louder this time and enunciating her words carefully. Pointing at the bakery, “Did Papa Vino’s move? Where the bakery is — it was Papa Vino’s.”
The small woman shook her head, silver-blue strands falling from her bun. “You must be mistaken, dearie. I’ve lived here my entire life. That has always been Red Apple Baked Goods.” She glanced up at Eve with a toothless smile, “You must have us confused with another town, my dear.”
Eve’s forehead wrinkled as she wondered if they were remembering correctly or if the feeble woman’s mind was failing her.
Before she could form a decision, Jacob walked up behind her carrying two warm, jumbo muffins. He nodded hello to the old woman who was methodically sweeping and oblivious to his arrival. Holding out a muffin to Eve, “What’s going on, babe?”
She grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the woman — not that she’d hear Eve’s whispered conversation. “That woman said Papa Vino’s was never there. She’s lived here her whole life.” Eve broke off a piece of the muffin, inhaling deeply of the warm apple spice scent before popping the bite in her mouth.
Glancing over his shoulder at the woman, Jacob quietly mumbled, “Maybe she has dementia.”
Eve took another bite of muffin and dismissed the subject. “Probably. Hey, let’s go to the park and check out Pirate Day!” The thumping of her boots on the sidewalk called for her husband to join her.
After asking for directions and a short walk later, the couple stood at the edge of the park. Pirates of all ages pretend-fought valiantly with wooden swords.
Eve nudged Jacob. “Babe, this is so cool. Take my picture!” She ran a few paces and turned to him, giving her best shocked look while smiling and pointing at the kids in the distance.
A rotund pirate with a booming voice beckoned the kids to draw near, waving them closer as he bellowed a tune.
(Verse 1) Come set sail on the deep blue sea, a pirate crew, so wild and free. With maps in hand and hearts so bold, we’re hunting for treasures, not of gold!
(Chorus) Yo ho ho, off to seek treasure we go, with compass and spyglass, and lanterns aglow. Digging up chests, filled with items of old, the tales of our journeys, forever be told!
The children erupted with swords raised high, “Arrgghh!”
Eve laughed at their enthusiasm and pirate-y display before darting back to Jacob’s side. “Let me see the pictures.”
Turning the phone to show Eve, Jacob shared several images. His head tilted to the side in thought, “Why is that spot fuzzy?” They both looked in the distance of the park to see what the blurred object was in the photos.
Eve waved her hand dismissively, “Someone must’ve been swinging a sword or something. Come on, let’s go check out the fun!”
Grabbing Jacob’s hand, they made their way into the midst of the chaos. They each received a pirate hat with a long feather on the side and a treasure map with a large, red X to share.
Much of the day was spent in laughter as they searched for their buried treasure, found other people’s loot by accident —reburied it, and enjoyed warm cider and sandwiches.
They slowly walked hand in hand, illuminated by the occasional street lamp, to the bed and breakfast. Once inside, they wearily sat on the edge of the bed looking through numerous photos, pointing and laughing at their mishaps. A few photos in, Eve stopped the slideshow of images. “Wait, go back.” Scrolling back an image, she pointed at the screen. “Look, that area of the picture is blurry — just like when you took my picture earlier.”
As one, they leaned closer, squinting at anomalies in image after image, remarking how each one seemed to occur in the same area of the park.
Looking at Eve, “It clearly isn’t my phone.”
Eve chimed in, “And it’s unlikely to be someone moving quickly in the same area in each of the pictures.”
They sat a moment in silence before Jacob suggested, “Let’s get some sleep and we can check it out tomorrow.”
The next morning, the groggy couple bought steaming cups of caffeine and muffins before exploring the town.
After a short walk in silence, each contemplating the peculiar events from yesterday, Eve stopped suddenly, her eyes brighter and pleading. “Jacob, let’s go visit the little church.”
Looking forward to reminiscing where they had gotten married a decade earlier, their moods brightened — as did their step.
They came to the end of the street and stared at the dilapidated building with broken windows. They both spoke at nearly the same time, “It was right here. Right?”
A run-down general store that looked abandoned for decades stood in place of their memories. There was no small white church with stained glass windows. No grand Oak tree out front with a swing.
It’s like the entire town was new to them, though they were married and honeymooned here a decade earlier.
The unease they felt the night before now flowed like natural spring.
Turning desperate eyes to her husband, Eve gripped his arm. “What’s going on Jacob?”
His jaw set, he grabbed her hand. “Let’s go check out that spot in the park.”
They soon stood at the edge of the park once again. Their eyes scanned the field with a few boys playing pirate battles.
Taking out his phone, they leaned in to watch the screen as Jacob took a picture. It revealed a distorted section near the statue. They looked at each other then jogged to the statue for a closer look.
Holding his phone to take another photo, one of the young pirates stumbled backward into Jacob, nearly causing him to drop his phone.
The boy looked up at Jacob, “Sorry.” Facing his friends with his shoulders squared, “Watch it, guys.” Then he launched his own furious attack on them, wooden swords clapping loudly in the morning stillness.
Turning back to the statue, Eve leaned close as Jacob took another picture. There was something small and blurry at the base. The couple looked past the phone to see a simple varnished box.
Jacob squat down. Upon closer inspection, he could see delicate swirling lines intricately carved into the wood. Extending his hand to pick it up, he paused.
Eve’s hands were clenched near her lips, her voice heavy with concern. “Jacob, be careful.”
Reaching again for the mysterious but beautiful box, Jacob found himself sprawled on the damp grass and leaves. The same young man from earlier pushed himself off of Jacob. “Sorry sir.”
The other boys’ laughter ceased mid laugh and was replaced by genuine concern. And maybe dread. But not for Jacob.
“Dude! You broke the box! She’ll be SO mad — she’ll beat us! Come on, let’s get out of here!” The boys sprinted away without a glance back at the dismayed couple.
Standing and brushing the leaves from his clothes, Jacob watched the boys’ retreat. Narrowing his eyes, he pointed. “Do you see that, Eve?”
Eve’s gaze obediently followed.
The town had a faint shimmer — much like heat waves above hot summer pavement.
The couple’s eyes grew wide as they looked at each other.
Excitement growing, Eve’s words tumbled out. “It’s not our memory that is wrong.”
Jacob, knowing his beloved well, finished her thought. “It’s this box.”
“Break it, Jacob. Something about that box has caused all of this.”
He nodded in agreement.
With a heaviness in his chest that wasn’t from being knocked to the ground, Jacob placed a hand on the statue to steady himself. He glanced at Eve, her hands folded to her chest — holding her breath. He raised his boot high and brought it violently down.
The wooden box broke into a multitude of pieces, slivers of beautiful rich grained wood lay scattered on the concrete.
Eve raised her eyes to the town which looked vastly different. Familiar, but aged. With a beaming smile, she jumped up and down, clapping. “We did it, Jacob! We fixed the town! And our memories!”
She ran to embrace him — only he didn’t catch her. Somehow, she stumbled right through him.
Confusion etched on her face. “Jacob? What’s wrong? What happened?”
She reached out to grab his arm but her hand passed through like he wasn’t even there. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Jacob?!”
Jacob gazed at the town. The shimmering had dissipated. By all appearances, it was a normal town. “We did it, Eve!”
Jacob twisted, turning all the way around. “Eve? Babe, where’d you go?” He stepped further away from the statue in search of her. “Eve?!”
Panic clawed its way up his chest.
“Baby, where are you?”
Frantic, rivers of tears streamed down her face. “Jacob! I’m right here! Please, look at me!”
After standing alone for long moments searching the field for his wife, a shimmer to his side caught his attention. Staring at the statue, his lips parted in shock.
The statue bore a striking resemblance to Eve. It had her long curling hair, the dimples in her cheeks, even her slightly crooked nose.
Curious, Jacob looked at the nameplate at the base of the statue.
Evelyn Grace Whitmer
1803–1835
Beloved wife, mother, and doctor who gave her life to save the town.
This was his wife’s name. Jacob knew her family history. He knew she was the only Evelyn Whitmer.
He stood motionless, tears flowing freely as he stared at his beloved when he realized he could smell gardenias and vanilla.
He knew deep in his soul his beloved was still close.
The moral of my story: Even in fleeting encounters, love leaves an everlasting impact.
2 pt - Prompt - Ghost protagonist 1 pt - Tally box 1 pt - Crunching leaves 1 pt - Red apple name/sign 1 pt - Om-nom-nom! 1 pt - animated skeleton 2 pt - threat of a whooping 10 pt - pirate shanty 5 pt - Moral of my story 24 pts Total! 💥
This has been written in response to Jonathon Sawyer’s Monday Mash-Up below.
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