Blue Lightning

Brian had the phone in his hands, ready to call the police and have this woman removed by force if need be, but when she mentioned his birthmark, he hung up the phone.

“Nobody knows that but my family,” he said warily, eyeing her as though she was a ferocious predator instead of a slight woman who was barely past five feet.

"But I am your family. Don’t you remember? I’m your wife!"

"OK, I get it. I get it. Somebody’s trying to pull a prank on me. Well, ha ha. You got me."

The woman crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "This is no joke."

"Just tell me who put you up to it. Was it Vinnie?"

Suddenly, the woman's piercing blue eyes were pleading with him, all frustration washed out from their depths. "David, listen to me."

"Oh, I know! It was the girls from work. This is their kind of joke."

"David, listen!"

Her eyes flashed blue lightning. Brian was stunned into silence by the look on her face. Was she.. was she crying? “You really don’t remember me,” she said sadly. ” I knew there was a chance, but I didn’t believe Henry when he told me.”

She sighed. “This is the first time you don’t remember me, but it has been a while since I last saw you. 200 years to be exact.”

For a moment there was a silence between them that gaped like a black maw, infinite and frightening. The girl, Madeline began walking towards the still-open door, hugging her arms to her body as if she were cold. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, she turned and looked at Brian over her shoulder. He could see the tell-tale tracks of tears on her left cheek.

“I guess I’ll see you in another time. When you actually remember me…and yourself. Good-bye, David.”

She closed the door so softly behind her that it barely made a sound. Brian was left wondering if she had even been there at all. Or if he’d made her up in his head.

In his room, he peeled off his shirt and stood in front of his mirror, looking at the birthmark on his back. It was so pale you could barely see it. Just the faintest outline of a crescent moon. He’d never really thought about it before; it was just a part of him, like his hair and eye color, or the rough patches on his elbows. None of his previous lovers had even noticed it.

So how did she know about it? And why did she keep calling him David?

The End

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