Saturday's Surprise: Open The Envelop...
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Saturday's Surprise: Open The Envelop...
| Sat, 04-13-2002 - 10:47am |
Saturday's Surprise: Open The Envelope (m)
Write a short story (1,000 words or less) involving a character with a physical disability.
Happy writing,
Mac

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Mine: "And they say it can't be done"
Aaah, sure felt good to write this morning. Feel free to be rough with this story. I'd like your feedback.
Happy Saturday! Eyewrite
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“But it’s the tryouts for District Honour Band,†she pleads. “It’s only once, it’s only drill practice. I can spike better than anyone.â€
“Volleyball or Band. It’s up to you.†She broke eye contact with me, her chest heaving. She bit her bottom lip and clasped her notebooks closer.
“You have until 10am tomorrow. Sharp.â€
She flees my office and I collapse back into my cracked plastic chair to think. I review the plaques on the wall: PQVA Champions 1986, 87, 89, 90, 91, and 92, and every year I have a battle with one or two students who don’t want to dedicate themselves to the sport. They have friends doing something else, another sport, another club. Nonsense. Nobody makes it big without focus on the sport.
Elsie has been my star player since bantam year. She trains hard, practices her drills, shows up before anyone else and stays later. And now she wants to join the Honour Band. Rehearsals conflict with practice, the concerts conflict with away games. I don’t want to lose her.
I lock up the equipment room when squeaking footsteps zig zag through the gym. “Norm?â€
“Hey Pat! Ready to go?â€
“In a sec.†I bend down to scritch Nelson, Norm’s golden lab. I know I’m not supposed to because Nelson’s on duty, but we do it anyway. “When did you get new shoes, Norm?â€
Norm grins. “Aren’t they sweet? I stopped in the Running Room and treated myself. They’re the latest New Balance. They feel terrific.â€
I cinch my water bottle belt around my waist and pull down my cap. “Ready.â€
Outside we stretch. I lean against the dingy stucco wall to stretch my tight calves while Norm lies on his back with his knee across his hips. Nelson bounds around us – he knows what comes next. Norm climbs to his feet, unfastens the harness around Nelson’s ribs, and chucks the tennis ball. Nelson runs through the air, not one paw touching the earth.
“He’s beautiful.â€
Norm grins wider.
As we walk to the all-weather track, I secure a Velcro band around Norm’s wrist, then one around mine. A springy telephone coil leash connects us.
Nelson meets us at the track and drops the ball, tail wagging and steam from his panting. I chuck the ball toward the creek and he dashes off.
We start slowly, a gentle jog to warm up.
“Norm! Pat! Good to see you!†Joannie the power walker motors past us, elbows and knees a blur.
“Hey Joannie, looking sharp!â€
Norm’s a hoot. We put the “talk test†into action, yakking while we jog. Norm tells me all about his adventure on the bus this morning.
“When I tell him he can’t pet Nelson, this kid just starts wailing.†Norm shakes his head. “The shrieks fill the entire bus. Everyone’s grumpy. I can feel them all looking at me. What is that?â€
“No idea.†I guide us around the bend and onto the straight stretch. “Just awful.â€
“And I’m certain the kid stood on Nelson’s tail. He leaned against my leg ever so slightly.â€
“How rude.â€
“I know. So,†Norm brightened. “Speed sprints today? I want to beat my time from last year.â€
I chuckle. Norm’s not competitive with anyone else but himself. Nelson charges up, panting. I send the ball towards the parking lot.
“Sure.â€
Norm nods. He swills some water and returns to bottle to its holster. “Let’s go.â€
I let Norm set the pace. We focus on his training. He dreams big and together we make his dreams happen. Three years ago he wanted to learn to run a 10-K. He was a couch potato. We trained three days a week on the road, and worked out in the gym to cross train. We crossed the finish line in just under 75 minutes. From there we’ve run countless 5 and 10-Ks. Last year we trained for and ran in two half-marathons.
This year Norm’s got his eye on the Canadian International Marathon in Toronto.
“What’s on your mind? You’re pretty quiet.†We both swig water during a recovery session.
“Elsie. She wants to do Honour Band and Volleyball.†Norm chuckles.
“And you think it can’t be done. You think she needs to dedicate herself to only Volleyball.â€
“That’s my championship formula.â€
“… Which has led to winning year after year.†Norm knows me. “And that’s the only way to do it, hey? The only way to get to the championships is to expect your girls to do only Volleyball.â€
I shrug.
“Phooey.â€
“Phooey?â€
“Look at you? You train for races. You coach soccer. You coach badminton. You go to Toastmasters and you coach Volleyball. You want your girls to only do Volleyball. What is that?â€
Norm starts another sprint session so we can’t talk for a while. We race up the straight section and make another turn. Nelson bounds along beside us, sometimes just ahead. He thinks it’s a great game.
We slow back down and reach for our water bottles.
“And look. Look at me.†Norm pants between words. “People say a blind guy can’t run in a road race.â€
***
I’m standing at the window when Elsie comes into my office.
“Coach, I…†Her chin quavers.
I wave her to the chair. “Have a seat. I’ve been doing my own thinking and I’ve been unfair to you…â€
Great story, Eyewrite (m)
I read an article after the September 11th tragedy about a blind man and his Seeing Eye dog that really touched my heart. Your story (though totally different from the article) reminded me of that man's bravery, as his courage is similar to your character's.
I admire the way you come full circle with the story, starting out with the coach telling Elsie to decided between band and volleyball and ending with him realizing he’d been wrong to make her choose.
As for a critique, I really didn't notice anything except the comment about throwing the ball towards the parking lot as that might be dangerous for Nelson. Maybe he'd send it towards an adjacent baseball field or something else in the vicinity of the track.
Happy Saturday (almost Sunday) to you!!!!
Mac
Thanks for the catch, Mac...
In my mind the parking lot was empty but I like your idea of an adjacent (and empty!) baseball field.
This isn't totally fiction - in a running magazine I read an article about an amazing blind man who runs marathons with the help of another pair of eyes. Imagine that person's job, having to be just as fit or more so than the blind person, and call out obstacles and guide the person through the mob scene, warn about upcoming water stations and portapotties.
Happy Sunday to you, Mac! Eyewrite
That's amazing and wonderful (m)
that a blind person can run races. I love Norm's determination and his repore with the coach.
A couple of suggestions, what age are these students? And what is the name of the place or school? At first I thought it was a parent talking to a child and then it unfolds that he or she is the coach, I guess I wondered if all the students have disabilities or not.
Also there is one place where you write, I bend down to scritch, do you mean scratch?
Great story....maria
Thanks, Maria...
I did mean scritch the dog, not scratch. My spell checker wanted it to be scratch. Maybe I should change it to avoid confusion.
The students were in high school, so 15-17 years old. Norm was a friend who stops in after school and after sports practice, say 5 pm or later.
Thanks for reading and reviewing. I've got my eye on another contest and I liked how this story felt as I was writing it.
Eyewrite
My only suggestion for your terrific story...
Eeeking in descriptions of the characters, dog, and sense of smell and touch(?) Otherwise, wonderful story eyewrite...I was running with you and Norm.
kat
Excellent suggestions, Kat...
Working in all the senses is always a good idea. I neglect the sense of smell because for most of my life I haven't had one. Just in the last two years or so have I been able to smell foods cooking or perfume or rotting garbage (!).
I'll see what I can do to describe the characters :-)
Enjoy your Sunday, Eyewrite
A Saturday Evening Surprise.
A late winter storm piled two feet of soft snow around the 1900 bungalow and draped the limbs of the hundred year old oak that keeps watch over the small family of three. The bungalow’s windows sweat from the condensation created by the intense heat radiating from the wood burning stove. Father has left the front door a jar to reduce the tropical humidity in the house. Mother reads a book in the overstuffed rocker, her legs thrown over the thick arm crossed at the ankles. Her left pink fuzzy slipper hangs on to her big toe. The four year old red-headed boy drives his dump trucks around a mock construction site. All is quite except for a few “Beep, Beeps” every now and then as the boy backs up the dump truck to deposit its load.
“Hey buddy, I’m here to pick up another load,” says little boy. Mother steals a glimpse of his imaginary play, but then looks up as a loud “Thump, Thump” catches her by surprise. There through the crack of the open front door stands a one legged man. His blonde hair like a halo against the black night and the front porch light, says, “Sorry for the interruption, but my car broke down about a block from here and I was wondering if I could use your phone.”
“TOM,” shouts Mother. Father enters the living room from the kitchen his brows knit together by concern.
“What is it, Judy?”
“There’s a man at our front door.” Tom walks to the door, and swings it open, then takes a step back.
“Can I help you?”
“Sorry to disturb you, but my car broke down about a block from here and I was wondering if I could use your phone?”
Tom studies this large man with one leg.
“How did you get from your car to our home?”
“I hopped with the aid of my walkers. They are there at the bottom of your steps.”
Tom raises an eyebrow of doubt, but then leans forward to verify the man’s words. There in the white world stand two erect silver poles with arm rings and black handles.
“Please come in, the phone is there on the desk.”
The one-legged man hops across the living room to the desk. The boy sits in wonder watching the man’s every move. The man dials the phone. “Hey Mike, it’s Jeff. My car broke down and I need a lift, can you come and get me? Great. Just a second. What street do you folks live on?”
Tom says, “West Street. 234 West Street.”
Jeff gives the information to his friend, and directions. “OK, see you in a few.” Jeff hangs up the phone and begins to hop back across the living room, “Thanks allot.”
Judy offers, “You should wait in here for your friend. It is pretty cold out there.”
Jeff sees the young boy staring at his stump. The boy says without hesitation, “What happen to your leg?”
Jeff smiles and says, ��Hey, did I forget to put both legs on again this morning!”
The boy’s eyes grow wide then he looks to Mother for assurance. Jeff adds, “Only foolin’. I was in a motorcycle accident and the injuries to my leg were too severe. The doctors couldn’t save it.”
“Wow. Is it hard to get around? Does your leg get tired?”
“Yeah. But I can still downhill ski, ride my mountain bike, and drive my car. I just have to rest my leg every now and then.”
“Wow. I bet your leg is strong?”
“Yep, it’s pretty strong.”
Beep, beep. “Hey, that’s my ride. Thanks again for letting me use your phone and hang out in your cozy house.”
“Need my help?” offers Tom.
“Nah, we got it. But thanks.”
The boy runs to the window and wipes the steam away so he can observe the one-legged man named Jeff hop through the snow to his friend’s car. “Boy mom, he’s the strongest man I’ve ever seen.”
Quite an adventure...
on an otherwise ordinary day. I love the boy with the truck going 'beep beep, picking up a load mister'. So what was the message for the family that this one-legged man came into their lives to bring, I wonder.
Have a good week, Eyewrite
Another powerful character! (m)
I was going to say, “a one-legged stranger showing up on my porch would've scared me to death” but then I thought unless his got a gun, I could probably outrun him and get away. But seriously, I anticipated Jeff was going to have a “bad” side to him (I’ve watched too many mad murdered movies I think) so I was most happy with the way your story went. I wondered though, why did he leave his walkers at the bottom of the stairs? Just seemed to me it’d be easier to get up the steps with them but maybe not. I also loved that the kid views the handicapped man as strength. That’s cool!!!
Mac
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