The Man in The Blue Car: A Fiction Short Story

The Man in The Blue Car: A Fiction Short Story

The man sat in a blue car and waited.

The road where he had parked was a mix of crumbling asphalt and dirt. Starting with a school to his right, the road was lined with small houses as it meandered down to the canal. Some of them had concrete roofs, and some were tiled. The light rain left the road glistening against the grey sky. Where the dirt began, it made a few puddles and left scores of tyre tracks. A light breeze rustled leaves in the few trees that stood along the road and scattered them.

The man had arrived early and parked some distance from the school. He wanted a clear view.

In the late afternoon, the clouds parted to let a stray gleam of sunshine through. It was enough to lift the gloom. A few cars and trucks made their way along the road, passed the school, and chugged down to the canal.

A tug boat sounded its horn as it floated down. The canal side was busy with a small loading dock and a line of trucks depositing their cargo. A light hint of petrichor wafted with the breeze and disappeared. The exhausts left by the traffic quickly replaced it.

Closer to 4 pm, cars slowed down near the school, and their drivers began parking haphazardly. Everyone wanted to be closer to the school gate. Parents, here to pick up their kids, he thought as he waited.

About 20 cars stopped on either side of the road so that they could make a quick getaway. Some were battered and old, the occupants scruffy. A few lit up to smoke, occasionally stealing a glance towards the gate.

The man watched the school and then looked at his watch—eight minutes to 4 o clock. There was no movement at the gate. The two-storied building that housed the classrooms was rather big but unimpressive. He could see some part of the courtyard lying in the middle. It was empty.

He checked the parcel on the seat next to him for the fifth time. It was a doll, pretty with a red ribbon in her hair and a little white dress with lace. Her brown hair was set to curl and held back by a matching red bow. She was covered in a flimsy paper and plastic box, enough to keep out the dust. The girl will not be able to resist it, he smiled to himself.

The man was not used to sitting for long and shifted in the seat again. He examined his bitten nails and broken knuckles. Out of habit, he rubbed his calloused hands together nervously. As he was about to take a sip from his bottle, he saw movement from the corner of his eye. The gate seemed to be opening at last. The man sat up, alert and watchful. He rolled up his windows so that he could not be easily seen.

The senior students were spilling out, laughing, and pushing each other. Some had their jackets off, draped over one shoulder. They began wandering away in little groups. Some walked towards the canal, and some in the opposite direction towards the blue car with the man in it. Very few of them went to waiting cars.

When the senior lot was done, the gatekeeper let the remaining students out, shouting at them to stop running and pushing each other. Kids squealed as they ran to waiting cars which started up and drove away. The gatekeeper recognized a lost cause when no one heeded his warnings and waited quietly. Within minutes the students pouring out of the gate thinned.

There was still no sign of the girl, the man noted, his eyes darting over the crowd. Had she gotten away, he thought for one frightful moment. No, he convinced himself; he knew what she looked like. She will show up, he assured himself.

A group of three little girls were the last to come out. The man watched them closely, and there she was, he realized, recognizing her from the group of three. The gatekeeper looked inside to check for any stragglers and, finding none got busy closing the gates.

One of the girls made a beeline for the last waiting car and waved to her friends before the car drove away. The remaining two girls seemed to be having an intense conversation about something. The man was not sure if he should make his move now. But he waited, aware that he could not mess this up.

The discussion seemed to end as her friend moved away and started walking swiftly towards the canal. The girl was now alone, looking both ways, anxious, playing with her hands. The gatekeeper locked the gate and pocketed the key before following the road down to the canal.

The man knew this was his chance, his breathing accelerated.

As expected, the girl began walking in his direction, away from the canal. He grabbed the doll and waited for the right moment to open the door.


The girl came closer, head down, watching her feet but walking steadily. She seemed deep in thought when she heard the click of the car door open and looked up. A muscular man in fatigues emerged from the car, blocking her way.


“Daddy” she yelled as she jumped into his open arms, accepting the gift he held out.


My first attempt at a Fiction Short Story.

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