A Trade Traded And Untraded

20261014

Written for the Second Indulgence, Prompt #9

Nobody’s called me “DanDan” since I was… nine? But that wasn’t even the weirdest thing about the stranger who’d walked up to me on my way home from the shops. I’d been in my own little world when suddenly I hear “DanDan! Great to see you! Goodness, those look heavy, here let me help you…” and before I can even look up, someone’s taking one of my shopping bags!
I turn around, ready to grab it back and ask what this guy’s problem is, and he’s… beaming at me. Like I’m an old friend. And he’s blathering on about my family. How’s Prissy, is my dad’s heart alright, is Gumbo still with us… the sort of questions someone who knew you really well years ago would ask.
And he’s hooked an arm through mine and kept us walking. Which, I mean, great, means he can’t run off with my shopping (not that there’s anything expensive in there, but still). It’s just weird how he’s taking the exact same route I do. Straight to my house.
At this point I’m wondering if I’ve somehow picked up a crazy stalker. I’ve never considered myself to be the type who’s at risk for that, but, well, how else can I explain this?
Then he pauses at the corner. Grins up at the old apple tree in Ms Simmons front garden. Says “Do you think she ever found out what we put at the top?”
I freeze.
I’ve wondered that question myself, many times. But I’ve never voiced it. Never told anybody about climbing the tree that Halloween night and hiding Prissy’s clip-on earrings up there. I can’t even remember what she’d done to annoy me, now.
“Think they’re still recognisable?” He asks, his tone casual. “I mean, rubber’s waterproof. Though, they were cheap. Well, the tree probably wouldn’t cope with us trying to find out, anyway.”
He resumes walking. Dragging me along with him to my front door.
“Say, have you dug up the time capsule already?” He points to an unassuming shrub, precisely between the gate and the door. “I wonder what shape those comics are in. We only put them in ziplock bags, didn’t we? Ah, bless our clueless hearts. Well, doubt those particular issues are worth much anyway.”
My heart’s pounding in my chest. That… I did that all on my own, I know I did. I made sure nobody else was in the house. Mum would’ve been livid if she found out I’d dug a hole under one of her roses. Why is he acting like he was there?
And how does he know? I didn’t tell my parents. Didn’t tell Priscilla. Didn’t tell any of my friends. It was a secret, for me. An investment on behalf of my future self - though, yes, a hopelessly clueless one. Surely this guy can’t have been stalking me for two decades??
“Goodness, DanDan, you look dreadful pale!” He pats my shoulder. “Lets get in and get you a flapjack and some tea. And a sit down.”
I’ve always been mad for flapjacks.
Dazed, I fumble my key out and let us in and he ushers me to the kitchen and gets my mug down and puts the kettle on and hands me a flapjack and starts putting shopping away, as if he’s been here so many times that it’d be silly to treat him like a guest. And he knows where everything is. Doesn’t even hesitate.
What’s going on? Have… have I lost my memory, or something? Do I actually know this guy? No, no, I can’t do, I… I’m sure I’ve never seen his face…
“So, have mum and dad had to go into care?” He asks, with warm concern.
“Ah… yeah.” I mumble. Trying to straighten my thoughts out.
“The one just over on Mulberry? Where gran was for years?”
“Yeah.”
How old was I when gran died? Had I started secondary yet?
“And how’s Prissy?”
“She’s… good. Currently visiting, actually. Staying with me to visit mum and dad, and…”
“Ahhh.” He nods. As if this explains something. “She went through the attic, didn’t she?”
“…Yeah.”
“Looking for stuff for them?”
“Er, yeah, though she got kind of distracted and…”
“Oh, of course she did.” He makes this fond sound, soft of half a sigh and half a chuckle. “Started poking through everything, eh? Well, I’m not complaining. Actually…”
He turns to me and smiles. “Why don’t we go look? Maybe that’ll jolt your memory.”
“I… ah… sure?”
He really does seem to think I should know him. That’s the strangest part about all this.
So we head up to the attic. Him leading the way, and knowing the rest of my house just as well as he knew my kitchen.
“Now, let’s see… aha!”
He stoops and straightens up with an old, faded green fabric-bound book in his hand. The cover is blank. “Wonder which box it’d been stuffed in? Thank goodness she found it…”
That… book. I don’t remember it. But I know it. Something draws me closer.
“I always loved this thing.” He turns it over in his hands. His smile bitter. “Loved opening it and playing with you. Oh, the adventures we had together… until you said I could make you real to everyone. Did you know, ‘DanDan’? What actually reading it would do to me?”
“Huh?”
“Hm. I suspect now you don’t even know if you knew then.” He sighs. “Makes this feel almost… mean. But I can’t leave Prissy in there.”
“What?”
He turns to face me. His expression suddenly sombre. “Look. I just want to say… having been stuck in there for twenty-four years… I get why you did it. But also, still, screw you for stealing my fucking life.”
Before I make sense of this, he opens the book towards me, and I feel myself falling, falling, falling - and as the face I stole is ripped away his memories flap free with it, and I remember. Remember what I am.
“NO-!”

Prompt was “Someone approaches you in public and greets you like an old friend. Only one problem: you’ve never seen them before. They know where you grew up. They know your family. They remember things from your childhood you’ve never told anyone. Eventually, they tell you something even stranger… you used to remember them too.”

Read other stories written for this prompt here.