A collection of short stories written by Gareth Davies author of novels Maggie’s Milkman and Extraordinary Rendition. Over 800 free short stories and 100 poems. Please note all works are first drafts. Enjoy, leave comments, share on social media and be inspired.
Check out the details of my novels here
Wednesday, 7 October 2015
The Good Samaritan No 3
You might recognise the beginning of this story but keep going.
I’d just come out of Bute Park and was crossing North Road
when I saw it, a debit card lying in the street, abandoned by its owner,
ignored by passers by, basically left for dead. But I am no Levite, I could not
a let a poor defenceless debit card fall into the hands of thieves and bandits.
So I picked it up, looked at it and put it in the back pocket of my jeans,
wondering what the hell I should do with it.
I supposed I had three options, I could destroy it making
sure no one else could use it, I could hand it in to the police, or I could
take it to the bank from whence it came, but I was late for class, so all of
that could wait.
During class I had an idea, and even if I say so myself it
was genius, pure genius. I knew the card was from the Halifax bank but surely
the place to take it would be to the bank who claimed to be on my side for generations. After all if a bank could reunite
a random man with his random scarf (see below) surely they were well-equipped to return a
payment card to its rightful owner.
I wandered into town after class and looked for the
Nationwide Branch, I went passed two branches of Halifax before I found what I
was looking for.
I popped in and waited at the information counter, proud at
myself for being such a good citizen.
‘Hi,’ I said when it was my turn. The bottle blonde woman
looked at me with a mild look of indifference, it was nice to know she was on my side because I’d hate for her to
be against me. ‘I found this.’
I handed the card over to the woman who looked at me and I
watched indifference turn to contempt in front of my eyes.
‘I thought I’d turn it in,’ I said smiling.
‘Why here?’ She said, ‘it’s a Halifax card.’
‘I know, but you guys did such a good job with that scarf, I
thought you could launch a social media campaign to reunite it with its
rightful owner, you know, I’ll keep you
safe blah blah blah concentrate.’ I sang, she didn’t look impressed.
‘Take it to the police station or to the Halifax,’ she said
in a tone that told me she’d had enough.
‘I was only trying to help,’ I said, getting out quickly
before security threw me out.