Michael Faux

MICHAEL FAUX

a story by

The Archer

Michael knew a trick. He knew how to turn his life into a movie, and watch it unfold in front of him. Not to him, but to someone who looked just like him. Was he the runaway with everything he owned in a torn old backpack? or was he watching a movie about a hitchhiking runaway on a lonely highway. A truck slowed, until the boy squinted in its headlights. But one good look at him, and the trucker couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Michael didn’t have the strength to curse him, as he choked on the dust of his spinning wheels.

He had always felt like half a person-half a person with half a soul. Sometimes if he dreamed hard enough, he could bring the two halves together. But he always woke to the same feeling of loneliness and loss. His hands trembled with anticipation as he opened the folder containing the birth records. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d been hoping that his biological father would be, oh, George Cloony or Antonio Banderas.

Instead, it was someone called John Faux. He wrote down the name, and his father’s last known address. But it was what he saw next that slammed into his gut like a celestial fist. He stared at the hospital records with disbelief. It couldn’t be true. But there it was in black and white. Not only did he have a father he had never met, he also had an identical twin. But John Faux had left town with his twin brother almost eighteen years ago. How would he ever find his other half? He knew only that he had to try; he had no choice.

Odd, even; right, left; rest, motion; peace, war; love hate. There are two halves to everything. Sometimes these get cut. They get cut in half.

…to be continued.