The Disappearance Of Sarah Marsh.

A tramp witnesses something shocking, but doesn't know what to do.

                  The Disappearance Of Sarah Marsh

He sat on the damp grass with a thin blanket underneath him.  He wore his old thick coat which kept him nice and warm.  He had a big untidy beard and wore a hat, and beside him sat a bag with his belongings in.  It was pitch black.  The dead of night.  No sound could be heard.  Hidden from the world like a discarded object which repelled others.  His name was Frank and he’d lived on the streets for as long as he could remember.  He was in his late fifties.  The thought of getting older depressed him, as living the way he did would kill him in the end. 
    That night snow fell.  It was cold, but the coat did its job.  Earlier he had collected some cardboard and picking it up wrapped it around him.  From his trouser pocket he took out a box of matches.  Before lighting a match he rummaged in the bag, then he felt it.  He got hold of the photo and carefully removed it from the other items.  With the small flame he glanced at the little girl in the picture while she smiled.  Sadness was felt.
    “I miss you, sweetheart,” he muttered.  A tear ran down his cheek.
    She’d died so young.  Frank at the time did everything in his power to be there for her.  Little Tess passed away in his arms one chilly November day.  He remembered it so well.  The doctor gave him the terrible news only a few days before.  His heart was ripped in two, his life now meant nothing.  Only a month later he’d given up entirely.  The loss was too much to cope with.  He had stopped caring.  His faith had diminished.  He’d lost all hope.
    Frank placed the photo back into the bag.  Sometimes when he felt low, he would think back to her.  She was his light, his shining light which kept him strong through the hard days. 
    “Goodnight, my darling daughter,” he said.  He closed his eyes and before long he was sound asleep.

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    Frank awoke with a start.  He’d heard a noise.  It sounded like a scream.  He scrambled from his den and made his way towards the edge of the forest while hiding behind some trees.  Nervously he peered through the growth towards the road in front.  This is when he saw something that terrified him.  Only twenty metres away he could see a man while he dragged a girl with long dark hair towards his vehicle.  The girl did everything in her power to fight him off, but nothing seemed to work.  She shouted out for help.  Frank was too scared, and stayed where he was.  He felt so ashamed.  With force she was thrown into the back of the white van.  The man looking about him then closed the backdoors.  He got into the van, then sped off.
    Frank caught the first two letters of the registration before the vehicle vanished.  What should I do, he kept thinking.  Who would believe me?  Maybe it was a father and a daughter having a row about something?  But there was something not quite right about the whole thing which sent shivers through his soul.  A slight pain was felt in his chest.  He started to worry.  Carefully he walked back to his den.  He sat down and waited for the pain to go.  Once it did Frank was relieved.  But what he’d just witnessed would haunt him for evermore.

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    For the next couple of days as he walked through the town he got this strange feeling that something wasn’t right.  People seemed more on edge than normal.  Then on one day while the sun shone and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, he approached a man selling newspapers.
    The man who must have been well into his fifties, peered up, and said, “How can I help you?”  Suspicion on his face.
    Frank was feeling a little apprehensive.  He knew people hated his kind, but replied the best he could, “So, what’s the latest news?  What I mean is, I can tell something is up.  Walking around here I can tell something isn’t quite right.”
    “A girl has gone missing,” the man said, sadness in his voice.  “It happened about four days ago.  It’s scary to think that something like this can happen on your own doorstep.”  He turned his back grumbling something under his breath. 
    Frank thought back to what he’d seen.  At least he now knew for sure what had occurred on that day.  And it was all his fault for not helping.  If only  he‘d made more of an effort, then the girl would now be at home safe from harm.
    While deep in thought he didn’t notice the man facing him while he held some newspapers.
    The man then said, “These are the copies I couldn’t sell.  Inside is the story about the little girl.  They’re useless to me now, take them if you want.”
    Frank didn’t know what to say, but answered, “Are you sure?”
    The man brushed a hand through his thinning hair, before saying, “Yes, you can have them.  Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but you probably see more, if you know what I mean?”
    Frank knew what he meant.  “Because I live on the streets?”
    The man gave him an awkward stare, then replied, “I did say I didn’t mean to be rude.  The truth is, a girl has gone missing, and we need all the help which we can get.  If giving you these papers makes you notice something out of the ordinary.  Like someone acting suspiciously.  Then this poor child will hopefully be found, unharmed.”
    The problem was, he did know something.  As genuine as this man seemed, he didn’t trust him.  All he said was, “Thank you.”
    He got hold of the papers and placed them in his little trolley which he pushed around.  He then carried on with his journey to look for food and cardboard.  At the end of the street he glanced back.  The man still stared, a grave look on his face.  It began to rain. 

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    Sitting under an umbrella that he had found in the town, the papers on his lap, he sifted through each one.  Every time he came across the story of the missing girl he would cut it out.  Once he’d collected every article, he started to read them with interest.

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    Frank woke up early the next morning and looked about as he thought he had heard a noise.  Maybe it was his imagination.  He took out the photo of his daughter.  He then thought back to the girl who’d gone missing. 
    “Why didn’t I do more to save that poor child, Tess,” he muttered.  A tear ran down his cheek.
    But who would believe a dirty smelly tramp who lives in a forest.  No one.  If anything, the police would blame him, because it would make them look better than catching no one at all.  Frank believed this one hundred percent.  Her name was Sarah Marsh and she was only 12 years old.  In one of the newspapers was a photo of her parents, sadness on their faces. 
    “Why am I such a worthless coward.  Even my own beloved daughter died because I couldn’t help her,” he shouted.  He picked up a brick which sat at his feet then hurled it at a nearby tree.  “Goddamn you.”
    By accident he dropped the photo, then picked it up. 
    “I’m sorry, Tess,” he said.  He kissed her face.  And for a second he thought he saw her looking back at him.  Tears flooded his eyes.  He’d had enough.

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    In the town the streets were empty.  Where was everyone?  He could hear the church bells in the distance.  Frank pushed the trolley and didn’t notice the man standing only a few metres from him.
    The man then said, “What’s your business?”
    Frank turned, his heart racing.  “What did you say?”
    The man who was chubby with long brown hair which hung down his face, replied, “Why aren’t you at church?”
    Frank didn’t understand the youngster, and said, “Church?”
    “The kid who went missing, everyone is there praying for her,” was all he said.  “Personally, I think she’s dead.”
    What a stupid thing to say, Frank thought.  “Why would you say that?”
    The man brushed some hair away from his eyes, then answered calmly, “This town sucks.  As soon as I get enough money, I’m out of here.”
    In the blink of an eye he was gone, disappearing down one of the alleys.
    Frank carried on, because he wanted to get back to his den before it got too dark.  He glanced over at the newspaper stand, and it was closed for business.
    He then had this bad feeling that something was wrong.

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    He saw the forest ahead and with trouble he made his way to it.  The older he got the more his legs ached.  Getting older sucked.  Frank pushed the trolley through the opening and followed the path which would take him to his little home.  Suddenly he was aware of something, and looking up he observed five children’s faces staring back.      One shouted, “The weirdo’s back.  Run.”
    Before Frank could do anything they were gone from sight.  He felt worried.  What were they doing at his den?  He saw his bag with his belongings in had been tampered with.  Then he noticed the newspaper articles he had cut out had been dropped onto the ground.
    “Bloody, kids,” he shouted, raising his fist.  He needed to calm down.
    A few minutes later he felt better.  He peered up at the many stars knowing that somewhere up there his darling daughter was looking down on him.
    “Soon,” was all he said.

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    Frank rubbed his eyes and saw something which alarmed him.  Two people stood only a couple of metres from where he lay.  He noticed one wore a police uniform.  The other wore a suit. 
    “Quivering, he said, “How can I help you?”
    The man wearing the suit had a serious look on his face.  He was in his forties and looked older as the wrinkles on his forehead were deep.  He then said, “What have you been up to, mate?”
    Frank didn’t know what he meant, and replied, “I’m sorry.  What do you mean?”
    The man came closer while he rubbed his chin, before saying, “Why have you got articles of that girl in your bag.  Are you involved, mister?  I won’t lie to you, I don’t like your kind.  So don’t expect any respect from me.”
    Frank took out the articles.  Then showed them to him.  “I’ve nothing to hide.”
    The man peered round at the other police officer with disgust, and he said, looking back, “I don’t believe you.  I think you had something to do with this.  Tell us what you did with her, now?”
    This was too much to bear.  He pleaded with them that he didn’t know anything.
    By this point the man with the bad attitude had walked back to the police car which was parked just outside the forest.  The other man who was a lot younger approached Frank, then said in a very calm manner, “You collected them for a reason.  Please tell me what you know?  I promise you you’ll not come to any harm, but we need to know who took her.”
    The man seemed genuine, but he was still wary.
    The man bent down, and said, “Unlike my colleague over there I won’t judge you.  I can tell in your eyes you know something very important.  Call it a sixth sense if you like.”
    Frank trusted him, and began to talk.
    The suit had returned.  His mood hadn’t improved.  He looked at the notes that the other man had written down.  “He’s lying.  He’s buying time.”
    Frank getting tired of this now, answered, “I’m not lying to you, sir.  That is what I saw.”
    The man rubbed his mouth with his hand, and handing back the notepad to the policeman, said, “If you leave town, I will personally arrest you myself.  Because I think you’re more involved in this.  You’re all dirty lazy scroungers.  The world would be a better place if your kind didn’t exist.”
    Frank glanced at the bag and thought of his daughter.
    The younger man gave him a friendly wave. 
    Within seconds Frank was on his own.  He heard the police car making its way up the road.  He felt petrified what the coming days would bring.

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    The next day he was unsure what to do.  He wanted to go into town, but if the police suspected him, how many others would be thinking the same.  What should I do? he kept thinking.  He was low on food and needed to eat.  His belly felt empty. 
    After about an hour Frank came to the decision to go.  If not, he would regret it.  At times like these he needed to be brave.  He got up and his back ached.  While pushing the trolley through the forest he all of a sudden caught a glimpse of someone.  The moment he looked they were gone.
    “I’m getting too old for this, Tess,” he said.  “But you keep me strong.”
    The sunlight hurt his eyes as the weather that day was brighter than he had expected.  Reluctantly he proceeded towards the town.

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    Making his way up the slight hill he could see the forest ahead.  His feet ached.  In the trolley were some items which he had collected.  Frank pushed the trolley with difficulty up the sloping road.  Then he saw something, and panic was felt.  His heart began to race.
    “They’ve come for me,” he muttered.
    A short distance from the forest a vehicle was observed.  It wasn’t a police car, which was probably a good thing, but who could it be?
    As he got nearer he saw the car was dark blue, but couldn’t see anyone inside.
    Once he’d reached the opening, Frank peered in.  He couldn’t see a soul.  He made his way through the entrance cautiously, following the narrow path.  There was an eerie silence which unnerved his very soul.  And with utter horror he could see someone while they sat on a log close to where his den was.  By accident he stood on a twig causing a slight noise.  He stopped.  He didn’t know what to do.
    Then a man’s voice was heard saying, “Trying to creep up on me, are you?”
    Frank answered, “Who are you and what do you want?”
    The man didn’t turn round, but said, “I’m sorry for judging you, Frank.”
    How did he know my name?
    “Is this a sick joke, why are you here?” replied Frank, he had this terrible feeling.
    The man finally got up and faced him. 
    Frank gasped, realising it was the person from the other day, still wearing his suit.
    The man’s face was less serious than their last encounter.  He neared the tramp, while saying, “The information you gave us was very helpful indeed.  I think you would be pleased to hear that the girl is now with her family.”
    “Really,” was all that Frank said, relieved to hear this.
    The man put a hand softly on the tramp’s shoulder, before saying, “I have a daughter, I love her very much.  The thought of anything happening to her.”  He all of a sudden stopped.  Some seconds had gone by, then he said, “By the way my name is John.”
    Frank was quite taken aback, because the other day the man had been so rude.  “So, who took her?”
    John scratched the side of his head, and answered, “It was a man from this town.  That’s why he was so easy to track down.  The best thing is, he didn’t harm her in anyway.  He was just a sad lonely man who wanted a friend.”
    “But why kidnap her?” Frank asked.  “There must be better ways of going about it.”
    John shrugged his shoulders, before answering, “The family want to thank you for the information you gave.  That’s why I’m here.  Also I wanted to apologise to you face to face about the way I acted.”
    “Thank you,” was all that Frank said.
    They shook hands.  The man then made his way up the path.

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    It must have been early because the birds sang from high above.  It was quite chilly, but his thick coat kept him warm.  Last night was the best sleep he’d had for a very long time.  He opened his eyes.  Then with a start he noticed someone standing a short distance away.  He wiped his eyes.  Frank looked again.  It was a little girl dressed in a school uniform, in her left hand she held a bag.
    This is when he realised who it was.
    “My god.  It’s you,” he said.  He felt embarrassed.
    She stared, then took a couple of steps, before replying nervously, “Thank you for what you did.”
    “I did nothing, as you can tell I’m a worthless tramp who sleeps in a forest,” he said angrily.  He felt bad.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.  I just didn’t expect this, that’s all.”
    She came closer.  A smile on her face.  She got hold of his hand.
    He glanced up at her.  “You’re so beautiful.  It’s just a shame that life can be so cruel.  As a child everything should be so simple.”
    She brushed his hair.
    Frank then saw a light while it shone behind the girl.
    “Is that car headlights?” he asked her.
    The little girl bent down and kissed him gently on the forehead.  Then answered, “Daddy, it’s time.”
    Frank felt very emotional.  “I love you.  And I’ve missed you so much, my darling Tess.”
    Both entered the light.

                                         The End
   
     

   
    Loosely based on actual events.

    This idea was given to me by a very good friend.

Reviews

[Marie]

Very good story. Shows that worthless people are not always so worthless.

Don't use the word "done" whe it should be "did"
Don't use passive voice like: The pain was felt again in his chest.

Active voice is better: He felt the pain in his chest again.

[steve]

Thank you, Marie. Done....did, didn't even realise. You're a star.