Storing the Baggage (Short Story)

The clouds had set in for the night. The moon was hiding its face behind them becoming the shy little kid that I had remembered back in the day.

It was only a few hours before when I had arrived in the city of Bangor, Maine and I finally felt at home. The air was crisp and smelt of sulfur, as well as pine and some car exhaust. It wasn’t the exact place that I had called home, but it was about 4 hours away, which had satisfied me enough.

Walking down the Main Street, I had realized that I wasn’t quite sure where I was. I checked my watch and read 8:57, it was almost 9, which meant that it was way to late for me to be outside on my own. I looked around to find any sign of life, nothing. I was really alone in a place that I had only been once or twice in my childhood with my father. I had found myself growing frightened as the time grew on.

I tightened my jacket around my body as a gust of wind hit my body. Winter was about to set it. If I wasn’t going to be able to find myself in the mixture of all these streets, then maybe I could call someone to see if I could find my way by that way. I pulled out my phone and unlocked it. I dialed my fathers number and waiting to for the rings to begin. Ring, pause. Ring, pause. Ring, pause.

“Do I know you?” his sarcastic voice carried from his phone to mine.

“Hi Dad.” I said with a slight giggle. He was always the one in the family to make some sort of lame joke for no reason.

“What’s up kiddo?”

“I’m kind of lost right now, I only called to see if you could provide me with the comfort of knowing where I am.”

“I’d love to help, but there’s the probably that lies ahead of us that I’m way over here and you’re way over there.” I giggled yet again at my fathers smart ass remarks.

“ I know that Dad, I just wanted to hear your voice so that I would feel at least a bit..” A scream was heard from the end of the phone my father was at.

“Vallerie?” he waited for an answer. “Vallerie!” he repeated. He heard nothing but the sound of my covered screams and a gunshot. He looked at his phone and read ‘Call ended.’

Vallerie Boucher. 1994 – 2019

The year was 2020. A call was made to 911

“911, what’s your emergency.”

“Yes. My name is James Boucher. I was at my storage compartment at the local storage unit cleaning throughout my stuff,” he paused to take a breath; he mustered up the tears that were about to fall.

“Sir, stay with us. Now repeat it from the start, what’s the problem?”

He started over “My daughter was killed last year in Bangor, Maine. I live in Madawaska, Maine. The man killed her when I was on the phone with her and they never found her body or the man that killed her.”

“Yes sir, I’m aware of the case.”

“I just found her body lying in my storage compartment.”