There's going to be several of these, but this is sort of the intro. See, my anthology is on sale right now at Amazon for $0.99. Because I want people to read it, and good writing aside it's difficult to justify $2.99 for a book you haven't read, that isn't one continuous story, and when you can get a full-length novel elsewhere for free. But rather than offer it for free (because I did put the time in to edit it several times -- something most of those free books have clearly and painfully not done) I'm offering over the next several posts a teaser of each story. That way, if you like where it's going and want to follow it to the end, for less than the cost of a McBurger you can do so.
The first story, "The Beast Within", can be previewed on Amazon, so I won't waste your time with that one. Without further ado, I offer you "The Storm". I hope you enjoy it.
THE STORM
A walking stick
when you’re blind is indispensable. Mine just walked off to get help.
It
was Friday, night probably: I was high in the mountains, in the middle of a
storm. I was drenched, cold, I was alone, my leg was broken, and, oh yeah, I
was blind. Literally. I had lost my sight four months earlier in a really bad
crash on my mountain bike in Moab, Utah. The doctors weren’t sure if it would
ever come back. “Maybe,” they had said, and I could imagine their fake smiles,
wasted on someone who couldn’t see them.
I
was wondering, as another bolt of lightning cracked close by, if my girlfriend
Alison would ever come back for me. She had left a long time before to try to
find help. It’s an odd thing that when tree limbs are cracking and breaking in
the wind, and you can’t see, it sounds like they are breaking right overhead. I
kept waiting for the tree I was under to break in half and crush me. As much as
it moved against my back, I didn’t feel I would have to wait much longer. I
closed my eyes – completely unnecessary,
but it helped me think – and tried to remember happier times. Not surprisingly,
Alison came to mind.
*
The
crash had done more damage than just to my eyes, and I had been bed-ridden for
several weeks. When I was able, and for a treat, the nurse took me to the
cafeteria to eat the crap there instead of having it delivered. I don’t know if
maybe she thought eating it before it had journeyed through the halls on a cart
would make it taste better – it didn’t.
She also made the mistake of giving me a cane and leaving an independent soul
like me alone while she went and chatted with her girlfriends. I played a game
for a little while of stabbing the food on my plate and trying to guess what it
was before sticking it in my mouth. But there is only so long one can lose at a
game before he tires of it. I sat back and listened to the wide open echoes of
the cafeteria. My hand fell onto my cane and I tilted my head towards it. I
thought: why not?
I
stood shakily and tentatively, sweeping the cane before me. I had no idea where
I was going, but I needed to walk, and walk I did. I made it five steps before
cracking the cane against someone’s chair and then kicking it for good measure.
“Easy
there, Tiger,” a feminine voice said. A very beautiful feminine voice, I
thought.
“Sorry,”
I said without really meaning it. “I’m blind.”
“I
can see that. Did a chair do that to you?” she asked.
“Um,
no,” I replied.
“So
really, you don’t need to take it out on a chair, do you?”
I
straightened a little, bristling. “I’m
very sorry, madam. Trust me, if I could see, I would be much more careful about
assaulting your chair.”
She
laughed lightly. “Madam?” she asked.
It
was something about her laugh, I still don’t know what, but I felt a half-smile
on my lips. “Do you often make fun of a man with a stick in his hand?” I asked.
“I’ve
seen you use that stick, I’m not worried. Either you’re very new at being
blind, or you never had a piñata at your birthday parties.”
I
couldn’t help but laugh. “Both. I–” A
hand came down on my shoulder then, and I jumped.
“Mr.
Devin, you shouldn’t have walked off on your own,” the nurse said gruffly.
“I
didn’t get far, ma’am.”
“No
you didn’t, Mr. Devin?” the feminine voice said with a chuckle.
“James,”
I said.
“James,”
she corrected herself. It sounded so much better coming from her than me. “I’m
Alison. I would like to hear more about what happened to you, if you wouldn’t
mind.”
“I
probably have to return to my room now,” I said, turning my head to the hand
that was still on my shoulder.
“I’m
visiting a friend, so I’ll be here again tomorrow,” Alison replied. I smiled
and nodded once. The hand unapologetically turned me around and marched me
through the cafeteria to the exit.
Alison
was there the next day, and the next. She was there every day until I was
released. I found out later her friend had taken a turn for the worse the
afternoon I met her and died the next day, and still she came to the cafeteria
every afternoon to see me. I never could tell talking to her. She always seemed
happy and interested in me when we talked.
*
Lightning cracked very close by, ripping me from
my thoughts and sending a fresh jolt of pain down my leg.Stop back tomorrow for "Not in the Whirlwind", a story of a college student who loses his room back home when a tornado comes to visit. You can also go here to pick up a copy. If you read it, and enjoy, please leave me a review; every bit helps!
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