The Return: A Short Story

September 1, 2011, Boston, MA

The car sped by the ballpark in a flash, barely pausing to open the rear passenger side door and toss the package out on the street.

The package landed with a bone-crushing thud on the pavement, a large mass covered in old quilts and tied with twine. The package began to shift and move on the ground.

The quilts were thrown aside and a cloaked, hooded figure emerged. The hunched, wretched creature shuffled toward the clubhouse door. Not recognizably human, it moved forward only with intense effort.

It entered the clubhouse unnoticed and paused in the middle of the room, its face and head completely swaddled. After several minutes, the trainer, Gene Monahan came upon the figure and asked what its business was. The creature grunted, almost inaudibly. Assuming it was a sick, homeless man who had wandered in off the street, Monahan asked assistant trainer Steve Donohue to fetch some warm soup. Monahan gently began to peel away layers of rags until finally the creature straightened and revealed its craggy face from under a mound of unwashed hair.

"My God!" gasped Monahan. A crowd quickly gathered around.

"Are you..." said someone.

"Is that..." said someone.

"Scott? Scott Proctor? Is that you?" said Monahan.

The creature cleared its throat and spoke. "I...I was called that once, yes. Scott. That is my name. Scott."