A Short Story: The Forgotten Man

Author’s Note: The short story below is the ninth in an ongoing series. If you’ve been following along, you know that I recently came upon a treasure trove of writing prompts. The process is simple: select two prompts from the collection, blend them together, and then write whatever comes to mind for however much time I have available. This week’s topic: “Sudden return of forgotten memory” and “lonely.” I welcome your feedback and, if inspiration strikes, please do share your own version in the comments!

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He wasn’t sure when it started, but they had been there for as long as he could remember. The people, hordes of them and as far as he could see. It was a sea of humanity, swirling and roaring. Pulsing and mixing. Camera crews pushed through the ragged masses, who maneuvered through rows of photographers to get to their tents. The tents! There were dozens, maybe a hundred tents. Beyond them, Winnebago campers. Beyond that? People. More people than one would expect to find just beyond his door. More people than one would expect to find living out their days watching and waiting. For what? For him?

Why?

J.D. couldn’t explain it and he had no intention of finding out. He’d stay inside, peer through the blinds, and wait for them to go away.