Juggernauts
They are always there. Stoic and steady.
I'm sitting on my bedroom floor, legs off to one side, eyes darting back and forth, searching for a new card to analyze. After a few seconds, I find one and hold it a few feet from my face, then slowly move it closer. The player grows as he walks towards me, greeting me. He's as familiar as ever in his trademark pose. The details of the card become clearer as it approaches my nose. His strong hands gripping the bat. The calm but loaded gaze. His cap tipped just slightly downward.
He is heroic. He is here.
I flip the card over and begin testing myself, trying to recall all the vital information. Born 1969, correct. Height 6' 1", yes. Hometown... I should know this... Mount... Saint... Saint Paul, yes. I almost let him down there. He may be my friend, but forgetting something as important as where he came from might be unforgivable. I should know where my friends are from. Disaster averted, I finish up analyzing and remembering all the stats and place the card on top of its proper pile.
Still friends.
My mother is yelling loudly now. My step-father is yelling back, even louder. A door slams, then another. I think I hear crying.
I focus more intently. I reach for another friend. Stoic and steady. If anyone can make the fear go away, he can...
I'm sitting on my bedroom floor, legs off to one side, eyes darting back and forth, searching for a new card to analyze. After a few seconds, I find one and hold it a few feet from my face, then slowly move it closer. The player grows as he walks towards me, greeting me. He's as familiar as ever in his trademark pose. The details of the card become clearer as it approaches my nose. His strong hands gripping the bat. The calm but loaded gaze. His cap tipped just slightly downward.
He is heroic. He is here.
I flip the card over and begin testing myself, trying to recall all the vital information. Born 1969, correct. Height 6' 1", yes. Hometown... I should know this... Mount... Saint... Saint Paul, yes. I almost let him down there. He may be my friend, but forgetting something as important as where he came from might be unforgivable. I should know where my friends are from. Disaster averted, I finish up analyzing and remembering all the stats and place the card on top of its proper pile.
Still friends.
My mother is yelling loudly now. My step-father is yelling back, even louder. A door slams, then another. I think I hear crying.
I focus more intently. I reach for another friend. Stoic and steady. If anyone can make the fear go away, he can...
|
8
favs |
1329 views
11 comments |
241 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
This is a flash fiction piece wrapped around the internal struggles of youth, fear, and comfort. Featured on WUWM Flash Fiction Friday for April 2011 (http://bit.ly/lcpRn2).
Other stories by Timmothy Merath
Tags
Comments
You must
log in
to post comments.
Quite powerful, Timmothy.
Well done. fav
Thank you James, I appreciate your kind words.
Tim, you are a talented writer. Your one of the few writers who know how to pull the Tolstoy loop. You know how to let the story come back around in the end and surprise and touch us.
The detail of the step-father says so much about why the narrator looks for a strong, calm hero in the cards. *
Searching for a hero in the midst of chaos. What a sad, lonely task. A lot of strenth here. Nice work. fave
I love this piece so much. Was so thrilled that you submitted to Flash Fiction Friday! And happy to get to know you better, Timmothy. I root for this kid, every card, and step of the way through this sweet story. Fave!
Thank you Chris and MaryAnne, I appreciate your thoughts and kind words.
Robert, you are too kind. It was my honor to be on your program. Hopefully I can continue to produce decent work and maybe submit again (am I allowed to?).
terrific form. good instincts for compression. fave.
Heartbreaking and beautiful. Wonderful understatement. *
Thank you Meg and Kathy, you're both too kind.