The Familiar Stranger Novels & Stories

“Your wife is alive. For now. Get ready to follow my instructions. And I won't repeat myself again. Stop trying to find us. You’re out of moves.” The feed cut to black. Grayson stood frozen, the image of Luna’s face seared into him. She was worth everything. The woman who crashed his wedding in a thrift-store dress. Who stood up to her abusive ex. Who trusted him when she had every reason not to. “Sarah,” he said, voice deadly calm. “What do we have?” She zoomed in on the frame. “Faint background noise—lapping water. Likely a marina. Shadows suggest a basement or lower level. And...” She pointed to the corner. “A logo. Crescent moon over a wave. Langley Maritime. Marina District.”

He could hear hands working desperately at the lock and that made him brim with anticipation. Finally, he thought, till the door opened for him to see a tall macho man with overgrown beards and tattoos scattered all over his body. The shock from seeing the stranger made him almost unable to speak. He had heavy rock music pounding in his apartment. “Can I help you mate?” his deep voice could make anybody’s knees buckle with frightful intimidation. “Sorry…I came to the wrong door,” Kylian broke out in an uncoordinated stutter, “I was looking for some girl named Maya, she lives on this floor…I don’t know if you might know her, somehow.”

A woman stands on the balcony of her apartment in a white kimono wrapped around her body and a small towel over her head. His eyes were staring at the traffic jam from the balcony. Her lips did not stop swearing curses of the man who last night made hot love with her. "Damn Ell." His parents hit the iron fence in front of him irritated and then grimaced because his hand felt sick. "AIORAAAAAAAAA!" Jena's loud shout this morning made him even more annoyed.

I handed it back to him without looking at him. “There,” I said, trying to sound indifferent, as if this was just another regular moment in my day. “I’ll call you,” he promised, his smile almost mischievous as I turned to leave. “And I’m Evan by the way” he called out,But I didn’t feel like I was walking away from a stranger anymore.

Beside him stood another man, taller, sharper-featured, his expression unreadable even through the faded print. I studied the stranger's face, something tugging uncomfortably at the edges of my memory. I didn't recognize him, not exactly, but something about the set of his jaw, the particular way he held himself, felt distantly, maddeningly familiar, like a word sitting just beyond the tip of my tongue. Where have I seen you before? I turned the photograph over, searching for a date, a name, anything, but the back was blank, nothing but the soft, aged texture of old paper offering no answers at all.

Eli staggered back half a step, his face white as paper, that faint flicker of hope in his eyes splintering inch by inch, until nothing was left but a boundless, hollow desolation. "From beginning to end, I brought this on myself. I was the one who wronged you." He murmured it low, his voice so faint it nearly dissolved into the air. "In this life, there's not the slightest chance of taking it back." I lingered no longer, and without another glance at his dazed, anguished face, I turned and walked toward the stairs. The gilded box door closed softly behind me, shutting out his gaze completely. We had once walked side by side and loved each other deeply, and in the end, all that was left was

“We have a million things to handle and somehow you think another investment is what we need?” “I need,” I corrected. “It's what I need.” Clara is what I need. A soft knock followed a moment later and I looked up to catch long toned legs walking in. Her heels clicked. One. Two. Three until she was inside. Clara fucking Mallon. My Stranger. She stood framed in the doorway looking all stunning “Who the hell is she?” Mike asked in a whisper not loud enough to ruin the moment. Mike looked at Clara and looked back at me, curiosity crippling. “Who is—”

It stopped ringing as I made to pick the call. “15 missed calls?” “Holy Molly!” I looked at my side, only to see the sleeping figure of a man, half-covered by the sheets, his back to me. He had a beautiful tattoo on the upper part of his left arm. I couldn't see his face. I tried to recollect what transpired between us, and the memories of last night came rushing back. The club, my friends, the drinks, the bar, the kiss, the hotel. Then the…. “Oh, shit!” I freaked out as I realized what I had done. I slept with a stranger, thinking it was Fred?

Now the world felt like it had cracked open just slightly—enough to let something unfamiliar seep in. Crystal sat on the low stone wall near the marketplace, legs swinging back and forth as she watched the village buzz with activity. Drums echoed faintly from the square. Vendors shouted prices. Children ran past her in clouds of dust and laughter. And there he was again. The daddy stranger. He stood near the elders, tall and unmistakable, his presence commanding without him trying. His clothes were too clean for the village, his posture too straight. He listened more than he spoke, but when he did speak, people leaned in.

Toward all of them. “You may enter.” Silence. The forgotten presence looked beyond the stranger. “What happens if we do?” The stranger smiled. “The same thing that always happens.” Silence. Emma waited. The stranger finished quietly. “You become more than you could remember alone.” Silence. The heartbeats answered. Gentle. Steady. Endless. Emma looked at the unknown awareness. It nodded. She looked at the forgotten presence. A quiet smile answered her. The divergent instance laughed softly.