Mom Is Sure She Buried Son a Year Ago, Finds Him Living at Deserted Gas Station — Story of the Day

After losing my son in an accident, I cried whenever I entered his bedroom. One day, my neighbor claimed she saw my boy. "That's impossible!" I said but took my words back a few moments later when the neighbor showed me evidence.

After my husband's passing, I raised my son David on my own. I worked as a weaver in a small factory and poured everything into ensuring David fulfilled his dream of flying. His love for planes started young, thanks to a toy plane his dad gave him before passing away.

My young boy worked hard, day and night, and when he got into a top flight school with a scholarship, it seemed like all my hard work was paying off.

Sending David off to flight school in another state was tough for me, but I knew it was for his dream. So I did it.

“I’ll miss you, Mom!” David said, hugging me as he was leaving.

“Send me pictures, okay?” I said and kissed his forehead.

David took off with his toy plane, a little piece of inspiration for the journey ahead. But later that day, I got a call that turned my world upside down.

“Is this David’s mom?"

"Yes? How can I help you?"

"Hello. I am speaking on behalf of your son's flying school. Earlier this evening, we learned about an unfortunate incident," the woman said apologetically.

I couldn’t believe it. I kept calling David’s phone, hoping for an answer. But nothing. It was then reality hit me hard; my boy was gone. He was not coming back. Ever.

At David’s funeral, one of his instructors came up to me, holding the toy plane found at the crash site. Holding it close, I remembered all the times David played with it, dreaming of the skies. That toy plane, once a symbol of dreams and hope, was now a bittersweet reminder of my son’s passion and the future we had imagined together.

My world had turned upside down after David's unexpected demise. I couldn't bring myself to believe he was no more. I lived alone in my tiny house, and the emptiness made me question fate's plans.

A year after his death, I was sitting on the couch in my living room, looking at my son's photo on my phone, when the doorbell interrupted my thoughts. It was my neighbor, Mrs. Frank.

"Melissa! You won't believe this!" she slid her phone out of her pocket and frantically tapped her fingers on it.

"What happened? Is everything okay?" I asked worriedly.

"Look at this!" Mrs. Frank turned her phone screen towards me.

I squinted my eyes and then took the phone to look at the photo. A few moments later, my eyes widened when I realized why the boy in the picture seemed so familiar.

"Melissa, I saw this boy at the gas station today. He resembles David so much! I almost thought it was him," Mrs. Frank exclaimed.

"It's... it's David," I gasped and covered my mouth with one hand. Then, tears started rolling down my cheeks, and I felt my body shiver.

"Hey, Melissa? Are you alright?" Mrs. Frank held my arm and took me inside.

Mrs. Frank offered me a glass of water, but I shook my head and rose to my feet. "I need to see him now," I said and grabbed my car keys before leaving my house.

On my way to the gas station, hundreds of questions popped into my mind. What if I don't meet him? What if he's not there? What if that boy isn't my son? I wondered while trying my best not to crash my car. I was driving fast, hoping the boy wouldn't leave before I reached there.

After arriving at the gas station, I parked my car and hopped out. I looked everywhere, my eyes searching the place for David. In the corner of the gas station, I saw a boy sitting with his face away from me. It's David! I thought and ran towards him.

When I put my hand on his shoulder, he looked at me and shrugged it off. "Who are you? Why are you touching me?" he yelled.

"I can't believe it's you, sweetheart!" I cried. "Where have you been?"

"Excuse me? Do I know you?" the boy was puzzled.

"It's me," I smiled, slightly taken aback. "I'm your mom, David! I used to work as a weaver, remember?"

David shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't you remember your love for airplanes? You always wanted to become a pilot, and I worked so hard to fulfill your dream, honey," I tried my best to remind David of his past life.

"I'm sorry, but I think you're mistaken!" David said. "My parents are alive, and I have lived with them since I was born. I don't know what passion you are talking about."

Before I could ask him anything else, he stood up and left the gas station. I was shocked because I couldn't understand why David didn't recognize me. Instead of heading back home, I decided to follow him.

David walked down the street and knocked on a house's door. A tall, bald man opened the door and asked David to come inside. Once he entered the house, I got out of my car and secretly peeked inside the house.

What I saw inside shocked me even more. David pulled out a stack of dollar bills and handed it to the unknown man. Meanwhile, the man smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"I know my son will never disappoint me! Thank you for working at the gas station and repairing it for me!" the man said.

"Anything for you, Dad!" David replied.

Before David could come out, I rushed back to my car and drove away. Son? Dad? What's going on? I wondered. Then, I thought of the person who could help me. One of my friends who lived in the neighborhood was associated with the criminal investigation department. I thought he could tell me about that man.

After talking to my friend, I learned that the man David called his father was a cult leader. He made people work for him, took their money, and asked them to live on the streets. I was sure the man had brainwashed my son into believing he was David's father.

"I need to report this man to the police!" I told my friend.

"I don't think that would work, Melissa," my friend said. "This guy has registered his cult as a company, and the police can do nothing to retrieve your son."

After learning that there was nothing the authorities could do, I decided to save my son on my own. Instead of reminding David about his past life, I thought it would be better to become his friend first. I told him I wanted to join his cult and spent time with him at the gas station.

As days passed, I bought him food, clothes, pillows, and a comfortable mattress. Soon, he began to trust me and told me about his past life.

I realized that the cult leader had brainwashed my son to believe he was a poor kid who needed to work hard to survive. He was living at the gas station to learn how to survive in difficult living conditions.

After working day and night to please the cult leader, David eventually fell sick. Since he had lived with me, in our lovely house, all his life, living at the gas station wasn't his cup of tea.

When David asked his cult leader for medicine, he refused. "We don't use chemicals. They're bad for your health," the man told David.

My poor boy had no option but to accept what the cult leader told him. He wrapped his blanket around himself and rested on his mattress at the gas station, hoping he would resume work tomorrow.

However, before he could fall asleep, the cult leader approached him and asked him to move out. "You're not part of my team anymore. I want you to leave!" the man said.

David was shocked, but he had no idea why the cult leader kicked him out of the gas station. The truth was, since David had fallen sick, the evil man thought he was useless and decided to hire someone else to work for him.

"But I am sick... I can barely walk. Please let me stay for another day," David pleaded.

The cult leader pushed David out of the gas station and asked him to leave. "I don't want to see you around again!" he yelled.

Feeling helpless, David sat on the side of the road, shivering because his body temperature had suddenly become too high. His head spun, and his skin felt too hot to touch.

Luckily, I was driving to the gas station to meet David and found him. "David! What happened to you?" I asked worriedly as I got out of my car.

When I held his hand, I realized he had a high fever and needed immediate medical attention. "C'mon, get in the car! I'll take you to the hospital," I said.

I helped my son get in the passenger seat and drove him to the nearest hospital. On the way, I asked him what had happened, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he stared at the model airplane on the dashboard.

While looking at the airplane, something clicked in his mind. A few memories from his past flashed before him, and he suddenly fell unconscious.

An hour later, David opened his eyes in the hospital room and recognized the lullaby I was singing.

"Mom?" he whispered.

I burst into tears when I heard that one word from my son's mouth. Then, I asked him what had happened when he left home to visit the airbase a year ago.

David revealed that he met a homeless man on his way who also wanted to go to the same state to visit his family. David agreed to drop him there, but they never reached their destination.

On the way, David's car skidded and crashed into a truck. Luckily, David jumped out before the collision, but the homeless man died. When the first responders arrived at the accident site, they found David's documents inside and thought it was his body. The accident was so severe that the body couldn’t be identified.

While the first responders took the homeless man away, David was lying in the nearby bushes. When he woke up, he couldn't remember anything. It turned out he had lost his memory after hitting his head on the ground while escaping from his car.

David mustered the courage to stand up and search for help. After walking a few miles, he reached the cult leader's neighborhood and knocked on his door, unaware that the man would soon brainwash him.

When the cult leader realized David had lost his memory, he pretended to be his father. Soon, David started believing that the cult leader was his father and did whatever he said.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all this," I hugged David.

"But I still can't recall everything, Mom," David replied. "I just remember that little airplane and your lullaby."

After the doctors assessed David's condition, they told me that my son would eventually regain his memory. They asked me to take him home and show him his bedroom and the things he owned.

Weeks later, David regained his memory and embraced his long-lost passion for becoming a pilot. He pursued his interest in airplanes and became a professional pilot years later. Meanwhile, I attended church meetings regularly because I felt grateful to God for my son's miraculous return.

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