A Day Forgotten

“The room is unfamiliar, I don’t know how I got here,” Sam thought as he slowly sat up from the dusty wooden floor beneath him. 

He checked the watch on his wrist; an old Timex analog watch passed down to him from his father. It was left to Sam in his father’s will five years earlier. 

The time on the watch read 6:23. “Where had the time gone?” he thought. It was only 10:30 AM when he left work to grab a coffee. What happened since then was all a blank. 

The sun shone brightly through the dirty window. Sam had to shade his eyes momentarily while he rose from the floor to his feet. He shook the dust from his clothes and walked toward the window. 

Outside sat a rusted-out tractor from the 1950s encompassed by overgrown weeds. Upon the engine bonnet sat a large raven, shouting out what sounded to Sam like curses. 

Past the tractor, laid a dried-out wheat field, left barren for quite some time. Beyond that, he saw nothing but old oak trees and a gravel road that disappeared into the distance. 

Sam had never been to this place before or does not recall ever visiting here before. He decided to search the house for more clues. That was when he realized that his shoes had gone missing, and his black socks were now soiled and torn. 

As he neared the door, the floorboards beneath his feet had begun to creak under his weight. He turned the doorknob and swung the door open. Like the floorboards, the hinges of the door screamed out as if in pain. 

The hallway outside the door, led to two other rooms, possibly another bedroom and perhaps, a bathroom. There was also an open archway that Sam now headed toward. 

Through the archway, Sam saw a room filled with covered furniture. Cobwebs dangled from the ceiling, and he could see dust in the air through the setting sun. He assumed that this was the living room, although, it did not appear that anything had been living there in a while. 

Past the living room, was a second archway that led to the kitchen. The sink was filled with old, food-covered dishes. Dozens of flies swarmed the dried-up morsels in search of an evening snack. The oven door was open, and it appeared to be the home of a family of rodents. The refrigerator was a General Electric, white in color, with a chrome handle attached to the lefthand side. It looked as if it were from the 1940s. 

Sam assumed it was an abandoned home, but two questions remained; why was he there, and how did he get there? From the kitchen, Sam could see the front door. The interior wooden door was rotting at the bottom. As he attempted to open the screen door on the outside, it resisted. He had noticed that the top hinge had been torn from the door frame, so he lifted from the handle a swung it open. 

He walked out onto the porch and nearly fell through a weakened board two feet from the house. After walking the entire perimeter of the house, Sam was unable to find his car, nor another living soul. He was stuck in the middle of nowhere with no clue as to what he should do next. 

He frantically searched through all his pockets looking for his cellular phone, but it could not be found. The sun was now on the horizon, and it would soon be dark. Sam knew that he would never find his way back in the dark, so he went back inside the house. 

He scavenged through the cupboards and came across a few candles. Lighting them, he let the wax drip onto the countertop, then pressed a candle into the hot wax, keeping it upright while it burned. After repeating the process with the remaining candles, he went into the living room and roomed the dusty sheets from the sofa. 

The couch was brown leather and quite elegant looking. It certainly did not match the rest of the decor. It measured approximately seven feet in length and was in reasonable shape. It would suffice for a place to lay his head for the night. 

Outside, Sam could hear the distant baying of coyotes. Their cries prompted Sam to make sure the doors and windows were all secure before trying to close his eyes. 

He tossed and turned throughout the night as his anxiety had his head spinning of the worst possible scenarios. When he eventually dozed off into a light slumber, he heard something scurry across the floor quickly. 

Sam’s eyes popped open and strained to see through the darkness. In the shadows of the candlelight, Sam spotted a large rat running haphazardly across the living room floor, then disappear behind the baseboards. He knew then that he would not be sleeping anymore that night. 

The sun had arisen around 6:30 AM, and Sam decided to get an early start in his quest to find his way home. Without shoes, he was not going to be able to travel far, so he searched through the house in every closet, until he found an old pair of rubber boots. They were caked with old mud and were one size smaller than what Sam normally wore, but it was better that walking in socks down a gravel road. The boots were brown with laces halfway up the front near the top. They smelled of what could only be described as a stagnant pool of swamp water. 

After forcing his feet into the boots, Sam headed out the door and toward the gravel road. He walked for close to an hour and was yet to see another home or person. He knew by the positioning of the sun, that he was walking westward. Sam’s feet began to hurt from the pressure of the boots, so he decided to give them some relief and removed the boots while he rested. 

A turkey vulture circled high in the sky above. Sam wanted to make sure he was not on the menu for the large raptor, so he pushed on despite his now swollen, blistered feet. 

In the distance, Sam could faintly hear gravel being churned up, so he picked up the pace and headed in the direction of the noise. After twenty minutes of a quick jog, Sam limped painfully through the gate of an old farmhouse, similar in style to the one he woke up in but well kept. 

On the side of the house, white linen whipped playfully in the wind upon the outstretched clothesline. A hound dog sunned itself on the front porch, and when it heard the gate swing shut, the dog’s head and ears perked up. 

First, it began to bark toward the approaching stranger, warning him to stay away, then, after a failed attempt at deterring him, the hound ran clumsily across the yard in Sam’s direction, howling and barking. He was just a few feet away when Sam heard a male voice yell out, “Barney, heel!” The dog immediately halted but held Sam at bay with growls and the occasional bark. 

An elderly man walked toward Sam asking, “What can a do ya for, stranger?” 

Sam began to tell the old farmer about what happened, and the man suggested that they continue the story inside over a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade. Sam gladly accepted since he had not eaten or drank anything in more than twenty-four hours. 

They sat down at the table and Sam finished telling the old man, who was named William (or Willie to his friends), the rest of his unbelievable story. 

Willie said that nobody had lived in the house for almost twenty years, and there was talk that it was going to be sold off to someone that lived in the city. The new owner wanted to tear down the house and build a golf course on the land. All the town folk were outraged about it. They enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere of their town and did not want to see it turned into a tourist attraction with cars driving through at all hours. 

Willie’s wife, Barbara, had come inside from milking the cows, and offered Sam some fresh baked raspberry tarts that she had just made. The delicious scent from the tarts made Sam’s stomach growl with excitement. He savored every crumb as it slid down his throat. 

After a short visit, Willie excused himself and came back moments later with a pair of work boots that he handed to Sam and said, “Here, try these on. They look more your size.” Sam’s feet were grateful for the change of venue, and Sam thanked Willie for his generosity and their hospitality. 

He told the couple that he had better get moving again before he runs out of daylight. It was still a long way into the city, now that Willie told him where he was. Willie said, “Nonsense, Sam, I will give you a ride into town. No sense wearing out your new boots before you had a chance to enjoy them, is there?” Sam chuckled at Willie’s statement and told him how much he appreciated the offer. 

They climbed into a white 1990 Ford F-150 Lariat 4 x 4 pick-up truck with a burgundy stripe wrapping the exterior from one side to the other. The interior was red cloth with a red vinyl dashboard. In the bed of the truck, there were remnants of hay and feed blowing around in eddies from side-to-side. 

Willie fired up the engine and they started on the way. It took around thirty minutes to reach the city, and Sam asked Willie to drop him at the Sheriff’s office so he could file a report. 

The deputy took Sam’s statement and took some photos of his torn socks and dirty clothes before the sheriff ever spoke a word. He looked at Sam as if he were making up the entire story but insisted that an investigation was going to happen. 

The sheriff asked the deputy to put out an APB (All Points Bulletin) for Sam’s missing vehicle, and to drive him back home so he could get cleaned up. Sam did not think about it sooner, but the stench coming him was far from pleasing, and he welcomed a hot shower and a change of clothes. 

The deputy helped Sam gain access to his apartment since he did not have keys, and because his wallet was also missing, he had to confirm through city records that Sam was the actual owner of that residence. The deputy searched the home to insure there was nothing suspicious, then left Sam alone, saying that his office would be in touch. 

Once showered, Sam applied ointment to his blistered feet and climbed into bed. It felt like a luxury mattress after his previous sleeping choices. He closed his eyes and faded into a deep sleep. 

The following morning, Sam was awakened by a loud thumping on the front door. He stumbled out of bed and staggered to the door. Peering through the window, he saw the sheriff’s car parked out front. After wiping his tired eyes, Sam opened the door to see the deputy at his door. 

He told Sam that his car had been found at a small lake just outside of the city. The back bumper was protruding from the dark, murky water. His keys and I.D. were found inside. The investigation was now being taken more seriously, and the deputy wanted Sam to retrace his steps from the time he had woken up two days before. 

The deputy drove him to his office where Sam worked as a mortgage broker. His boss began to rant as soon as he saw Sam walk through the door, demanding to know where he had been, but was quickly silenced when the deputy stepped in behind him. 

Sam took a moment to explain to his boss what had happened, then went to his desk with the deputy close behind. Sam began going through the folders of properties that various land buyers wished to purchase. As he flipped through and showed the deputy all that he was working on, he stopped short and sat silently staring into one of the folders. 

The deputy asked what was wrong to which Sam replied, “This is it,” he began. “This is the old farmhouse that I was taken to. The mortgage on the property was being purchased by a businessperson from the next city to the west, but there was a hold on the property until I could find any next of kin to the last owner. It was rumored that the property was left to somebody in the family. Yesterday was the deadline. I remember now that I left the office that day. My intention was to grab a coffee then head to the town registry office to look up the last will and testament, but I did not even make it to the coffee shop.” 

“It is all coming back to me now,” Sam continued. “When I left the office, I got my keys out to unlock my car, when I felt someone push me against the door and a strong hand pressed something against my mouth and nose. That was the last thing I remember before waking up in the farmhouse.” 

The deputy got on the radio and ordered an arrest warrant for the person wanting to purchase that property. He was picked up on suspicion of kidnapping and auto theft. The forensics team was able to recover a partial fingerprint on the steering wheel of Sam’s car. That was enough to connect him to the kidnapping. 

After interrogating the man for several hours, he finally admitted his part in the scheme to purchase the property. He told the sheriff that he was not planning on hurting Sam; he just wanted to have him disappear long enough for the deal to go through. 

Sam had a chance to finally face his attacker on the day of his trial. He had the attorney relay a message to the man before the sentencing. Sam let him know that the property was proven to be abandoned with no living heirs to the property, so if he would have waited one more day, the property could have been purchased for less than asking price. 

The look on the face of the accused was retribution enough for Sam, but when the judge sentenced him to fifteen years in prison, Sam felt a sense of relief. It was a day that he would never forget. 

Following the trial, Sam revisited Willie and Barbara. He proposed that they, along with the other townspeople, they purchase the property together to prevent it from ever being sold to someone that they did not approve of. The deal was signed a few weeks later.