The Stranger

A dinging noise emitted from my front door. I looked up from my book, wondering who it could be. It was 7:02 a.m. in the morning, and the whole town should've been asleep. I tiptoed to the door and peeked through the window. A man, probably in his 30s, was standing there, peeking back at me. I muttered to myself more than to him, "Who are you?" then opened the door a bit. The man waved, then straightened his jacket.

"Er, hello," I said, scanning him from head-to-toe. He seemed...normal, but he didn't seem like he'd live here. He looked like he was fresh from Hollywood, with wavy brown hair, falling over his eyes, and hazel pupils. I stared at him, but then shook it off.

"Before I let you in, may I know who you are and why you're here?" I asked cautiously. The man said, "I've come on a trip to visit smaller towns, instead of Atlanta, or San Francisco," I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, I don't think this is a small town, weird and odd," the man said quickly. "I've never been here before, and I just want some information,"

"Well, okay," I started off on an explanation about my city, opening the door to let him in. When I finished, his eyes seemed to be weird and droopy.

"Jetlagged?" I asked. His eyes flickered open wider.

"Um," he turned pink. Why? "Y-Yeah, jetlag," he seemed to be lying.

"I didn't even ask of thy name," I realized. "Who are you, really?"

"I'm John Smith," he stuttered after a few seconds.

"John Smith, huh? I'm going to ask you to leave, young man," I stood up. He stood up too, but pushed me back onto the ground. He tried to open a drawer labeled 'Fragile' next to him, one that contained a bunch of jewelry. He couldn't, as it was a safe. he picked up a pole. Wait, a pole? I had a pole in my house? He smashed it into the safe, sending glass everywhere. He scooped up the contents and started running. I, amazed by the man's actions, got up and started chasing him. He opened the door and flew outside. I followed, but as an elder, started to get tired. A bracelet embedded with an emerald fell from his hand. I ignored it and kept running. 'John' looked back and grinned evilly. He still had the pole in his hand. With an unexpected swing, it hit my head, and I dropped down from the pressure, hitting my skull on the hard ground below me. I sunk into a dead faint. The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed, the heart monitor doing it's job next to me. A woman in blue clothes was coming into view. Blurry, I thought hazily.

"Doc, she's awake," the woman said.

"Are you a policewoman?" I asked urgently.

"No, I'm a nurse," the woman said. "Call me Al,"

"Al, I need to talk to the police! I got robbed!"

"No, you need to rest,"

"But, I-"

"No," the nurse said firmly. "Rest!" I plopped my head down carefully, then winced. Concussion. I was sure of it by the feels.

"Do I have a concussion?" I asked weakly. The nurse nodded. She walked outside, muttering that she needed to inform the doctor that I was awake. I stared out the window. I wasn't in my city. I looked like I was in a 'bigger' city, like the so-called 'John Smith' had said. I lifted my hand gingerly to my head, then felt a wet cloth bandage on it. When I brought my hand down, it was tinted red. When had that happened? I brought my mind back to that time, trying to remember. Immersed in my thoughts, I ignored loud noise of a knock filling the room. The closed hospital door opened. A man in dark blue clothes entered, followed by a man in a lab coat, and the nurse behind them.

"I'm Mr. Jackson, a police officer," the man in the dark blue clothes said. The lab coat guy muttered something in the other one's ear. The police nodded, his eyebrows furrowed understandingly. He added "I'm a trustable police, Ms. Akuro,"

"Okay," I said suspiciously.

"I'd like you to tell me about what happened the day you got this concussion," he said. I explained quietly about my experience with Mr. Robber. The police guy nodded carefully, noting this down.

"My, my. That's a lot. May I know his appearance, if this does not trouble you?"

"Hmm...Brown hair across his face, hazel eyes, brown jacket. Calls himself John Smith," Mr. Jackson's face turned grim. He muttered a name, saying "Maybe, just maybe," every 20 seconds. I said, "Al will kill me. I gotta sleep," Jackson nodded then walked away, out of the hospital.

I was at the hospital for a long time. It at least felt like that. When they brought me home, Mr. Jackson was coming with me. He said he'd found my 'John' guy. He wasn't in jail yet. They couldn't get him. He would injure the officers going after him.

"This man, he's dangerous," Jackson said. "He's a robber, going to small and big towns, stealing jewels. His biggest one was a famous painting." We entered my house. I showed him where the jewelry was stolen from. He found out the fingerprint was the guy's. The guy he thought it was. I had to rest, as Al told me to. She wouldn't let me go on morning walks, or wake up earlier than 10:00. I protested, but lost miserably. Medications overflowed my bedside table. Nightmares entered my mind. I kept thinking, This was all Grandma, Mom, and Selena's stuff. It made me feel like crying. I hated this town. I never hated it, but now I did. I would move to an even more isolated town after jewelry got returned. Where no one could find me. Happy with my idea, I hummed and tapped my feet. This would be done soon. Or would it?