Posts tagged ‘short stories’
THE ANNIVERSARY, A GHOST STORY
The Anniversary was accepted by Bewildering Stories for publication in 2007.
This is a ghost story with a happy and somewhat unexpected ending.
THE ANNIVERSARY
Julie Barber carefully made her way down the winding tree-lined dirt road to visit her next patient. The sun filtering through the ancient leafless maples helped to relax her and to mentally prepare her for the visit. She was a visiting nurse seeing oncology and hospice patients and she was now on her way to see Emily Taylor. She had been seeing Emily for three months, with ‘failure to thrive’ as the diagnosis, but Julie also knew that a healthy amount of dementia was mixed into the ninety-six-year-old patient’s milieu of symptoms.
As a young woman, Emily had been petite. As an old woman, she was beyond frail. The black hair of her youth now formed a snow-white frame around her withered face.
It was a crisp January afternoon with the sky a brilliant blue. “God, I wish Emily could enjoy this day,” Julie said. Emily was so sweet and she had a special place in Julie’s heart. She loved all the elderly patients she saw, enjoyed listening to their history and felt pride in knowing she made a difference in their final days.
As she drove, she viewed the peaceful winter landscape. The meadows were brown with dormant grass and a nearby field stood barren waiting for the spring planting. Some would find little beauty in winter’s harsh scene, but Julie found each season had its own special qualities.
She parked on the circular gravel drive and walked up to the modest farmhouse that Emily Taylor had called home for many years. Not another house was in sight, and the view went on for miles revealing the central Pennsylvania countryside. The homestead, surrounded by solitude, set Julie thinking, She has been alone for so long, the poor woman’s life reflects the scene that inhabits this place.
She walked up to the front of the house and used the brass knocker on the ancient wooden door to announce her arrival. The door opened and there stood Ruth, one of the twenty-four-hour caregivers who stayed with Emily.
“How’s my patient?” asked Julie.
“Oh, you know, Julie. Ralph and the kids are set to show up anytime now. Emily is so excited.”
Julie thought, Poor thing, if this fantasy keeps her going; where’s the harm?
Julie entered the front door to a small living room furnished with plain, well-worn pieces. The house was well over a hundred years old. A sturdy dwelling, it was a small two-story structure and had the feeling of ‘no show, just practicality’ rarely found in today’s houses. Upstairs were two bedrooms, one of which her patient hadn’t left for months. The first floor held a small cozy kitchen with a bathroom off to one side, the only part of the structure that was not original. Julie trudged up the well-worn stairs to care for her patient.
As soon as he entered the bedroom, Emily smiled and said, “How are you, my dear? You know Ralph and the girls will be here soon. I can’t wait to see how much the girls have grown, although they never seem to change. And Ralph, he’s always as handsome as ever. How’s your husband?”
Julie responded, “Emily, don’t you remember? I don’t have a husband.”
Emily said, “Then we should find you one. Husbands and children are why we were put on this Earth. That’s what life is all about. You are young and pretty, my girl. We must find you a husband.”
They talked for a while more, and then Julie began to care for her patient. She took Emily’s vitals and tended to the bedsores she had developed. As Julie packed her nursing bag, she said to Emily, “I’ll see you next week. I’ll be here Tuesday”. She didn’t mention the date. The fact that it would be January 28th might disturb the old lady. But, more likely, it would have no meaning at all.
Julie walked to the bedroom door and said, “You take care, Emily.” Emily answered, “I have company coming next week. My family will be here for a visit.”
Ruth was outside the door and heard everything. “Poor thing,” she said, “all alone in the world. With her family gone all these years, I don’t know what makes her hold on like she does. She’s outlived all her close relatives. No one visits her – there’s no one left.”
“I know,” said Julie. “The only pleasure she gets is in her fantasies. And if they give her joy, who are we to disturb them?”
Julie left the farmhouse and retraced her route down the rutted dirt road to visit her next patient.
* * *
Shortly after beginning to care for Emily Taylor, Julie approached Diane, the social worker assigned to her case. In Emily’s bedroom, Julie could not help but notice a host of family pictures. There were pictures of Emily as a young bride embracing a young dark-haired man, her husband, Ralph. Other family photos showed Emily and Ralph with a baby, then more pictures with a toddler and another baby. There were photos tracing the two girls maturing, and Emily and Ralph growing older. The most recent pictured Ralph and Emily in their forties, with two girls about to reach their teenage years. Julie enjoyed learning the history of her patients so she could better communicate with them. What she learned of Emily’s past saddened her deeply.
“Diane, would you mind if I asked you some questions about Emily Taylor? She’s such a sweet old woman and I know she has no living close relatives. I was wondering what happened to her family in the photos.”
Diane replied, “I see you’ve noticed all the photos in her bedroom. Who could help but notice them? The little old lady’s future of life with her family was robbed from her many years ago. Her husband and two daughters were killed. Since then, she has lived part of her life in a world of fantasy where her husband comes to visit and her children never grow old.”
“It was in the mid-fifties when the Taylor family could afford their first new car. It was a black and white Chevy. It was January 28th, 1954, when Ralph went to pick up his new vehicle…
The door slammed and Ralph walked into the small, warm kitchen. The smell of a roast filled the air. Emily was in an apron stirring a pot on top of the coal stove.
“Emmy,” said Ralph, joy filled his voice, “let’s go for a ride.”
“Ralph, I’m cooking dinner. Anyway, the roads are full of ice from the last storm.”
“I know Emmy, but I made it home just fine. Our car will be new only once. Where are the girls?”
“They’re upstairs doing their homework. For God’s sakes, the car doesn’t even have a heater.”
“No problem,” answered Ralph, “we’ll grab a few army blankets. They’ll keep you and the girls warm just fine.”
“You just can’t stay away from that car.” Emily said.
Ralph approached Emily and said, “That’s not all I can’t stay away from.” He hugged his wife and his hands roamed the curves of her body.
“Stop it, Ralph, the children.”
“Emmy, I guess you’ll have to wait for your ride. I’ll take the girls and be back way before dinner.”
He shouted upstairs, “Who wants to go for a ride in our brand-new car?”
The two young girls came bounding down the stairs, shouting in unison, “Me Daddy, me…”
Diane said, “There was a local farmer that was known to have a drinking problem. He was more wasted than usual when he got behind the wheel of his pickup that day.
“The two girls were in the back seat of the Chevy huddled in blankets. Of course, it was well before the time of seatbelts or airbags. The story goes that Ralph was rounding a curve when he saw the drunken farmer coming at him. There was no time for him to react. The farmer was in Ralph’s lane and hit him head-on. Everyone was killed.
“Emily was all right for awhile, as all right as anyone could be, then she lost it. She kept on talking about Ralph and the girls and how they came to visit. Gradually, all the close family she had died. She lives on that beautiful countryside; she lives in the past talking about her husband and daughters as if they were still alive.”
* * *
Tuesday arrived and it was time to visit Emily once again. Julie preferred to see Emily in the early afternoon, but she had an emergency and had to postpone Emily’s visit until the end of the day. As she drove the country road near dusk, she was aware of an unpleasant change. The desolation of the countryside was pronounced in a haunting way. The tree-lined road leading to her patient’s farmhouse now seemed bordered by lurking giants instead of the stately maples she had grown to love. The gray and colorless scene was nothing like the landscape of days past.
Julie knocked on the farmhouse door. Ruth answered immediately.
“Julie, Emily doesn’t look so good. Hurry!”
As soon as she entered the bedroom, Julie could see that Emily was dying. Her breathing was shallow and her complexion gray. Julie took her vitals and shook her head. Emily’s eyes were closed.
Julie said, “Emily, can you hear me?”
In a soft, weary voice, Emily replied, “Julie, I’m so tired. Could you comb my hair? Ralph and the girls will be here soon.”
With tears in her eyes, Julie complied. After finishing, she said, “You look beautiful, Emily. Ralph and the girls will think you’re so lovely.”
As she was leaving the farmhouse, Julie said to Ruth, “I doubt she will last the night.”
Ruth and Julie said their goodbyes and Julie began walking to her car. As she slid into the driver’s seat, she noticed a faint glow amid the fading light of the darkened countryside. The light held close to the road and followed its twists and turns. The closer it came to the farmhouse, the brighter it became. As the light entered the driveway it gained definition. Soon it morphed into a very old car. Julie froze, not knowing what to expect next.
The driver’s door of the specter opened and out stepped the glowing figure of a man. Julie recognized him immediately. It was Ralph. The back doors opened and outran two young girls.
Julie was cemented in place, afraid to move, afraid to think. Then the hairs on the back of her neck stood as she heard the shimmering figures of the girls call, “Mom, come on Mom. It’s time to go for a ride.”
Movement near the front door caught Julie’s eye. A glowing figure emerged from the farmhouse. Julie immediately recognized the young Emily Taylor as she appeared in the final family photo.
The youthful Emily walked towards her daughters. She held them close and kissed them. The girls responded with giggles and shouts of joy. Then Emily went to her husband. There was a long embrace and Julie thought she could hear Emily weeping.
The four apparitions climbed into the old car and disappeared down the country road with the glowing specter of the Chevy fading into the night.
The End
UNHOLY GROUND, A HORROR SHORT STORY, CHAPTER VIII
UNHOLY GROUND
Old-man Alexander
“Get the hell out of here,” came a shout.
“Shit,” said Junior. “It’s old-man Alexander.”
“What the hell is he doing here? I thought this place was sooo scary.”
“I don’t know,” said Junior. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chris replied, “This is turning into a regular convention. I want to know what he’s doing out here.”
The old man stumbled toward the boys dressed in his standard uniform. Years ago, the sweatshirt he wore had been gray; now it was a mottled camouflage of grime. His worn stained bib overalls completed the outfit. As he approached, he took sips from a large bottle. The boys could see that his eyes were glazed, and they could smell the alcohol on his breath as he weaved toward them.
“I said what the hell are you doing here?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Chris.
This stopped the old man; his withered face formed a grizzled smile. Swaying, he said, “I like places where no one else is. I likes my privacy, my drinking privacy.”
* * *
As a teenager, Kermit Alexander had few friends. He was a loner, kept to himself and was already making his way down the road to alcoholism. He was sometimes teased, “Go out to that old barn in the woods. No one will bother you there.”
That’s what he decided to do. He had heard strange stories about the barn. None of which he believed. Kermit decided to trek out there and check things out for himself.
He had trouble finding the structure. He eventually stumbled into a clearing and there it stood, looking like it had just been built. As soon as he entered the clearing, he felt strange, frightened. He couldn’t figure out why. Kermit’s fear became so intense he ran back into the trees. “Shit,” he said to himself, “What the hell is wrong with me?”
Kermit had recently developed a taste for wine. “Next time, I’ll fortify myself on the way through the woods.”
From then on, during his journeys to the barn, his fear was replaced by numbness, a numbness he would maintain for the rest of his life.
* * *
Aren’t you afraid to be out here alone?” asked Junior. “Doesn’t this place give you the creeps?”
“Nope,” said Alexander. He held up his bottle and said, “I bring along my courage.” The old man mellowed as he began to talk about his past to the boys.
“Started coming out here when I was about you boys’ age. Matter of fact started drinking about that time too. First couple of times I come out here I was sort of scared; don’t honestly know why. Then I started priming the pump as I walked through the woods. By the time I reached the clearing, I wasn’t scared of nothin’. ‘Cept one time had a little too much courage. Fell asleep. Voices woke me up.”
“What voices?” asked the boys in unison.
“Don’t rightly know. It was near dusk. The voices were coming from the barn, strange voices. They were calling me. Got my ass out of there fast. Never stayed late again.”
Chris asked, “Sure you weren’t hearing things, old man?”
“Don’t shit with me, punk. I know the stories about this place. Damn barn sits on unholy ground, Injun ground. No one comes out here at night no matter how much courage they had.”
“Let’s go home,” said Junior. “I’ve still got chores to do.”
The boys turned and left. Behind them, they could hear old-man Alexander laughing.
Once they were deep into the forest, Junior remarked, “I told you that was a scary place.”
“Right,” Chris said sarcastically. He was pissed that the old man was laughing as they left. It only made him more determined to revisit the barn. Chris could not get those pristine white walls out of his mind. Those walls were just screaming to him to be decorated. And now that he knew they were protected during the day, so daytime visits were out. He also knew that no one would be there at night.
“What do you say we visit the barn at night?” Chris asked Junior.
“Are you crazy? I’m not going there at night!”
“You’re going to let the stories of an old drunk scare you? Didn’t you hear how he was laughing? He was laughing because he thinks he frightened us away. Let’s check out the barn at night and see what’s really going on inside.”
Junior replied, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“I do,” said Chris. “I’ll meet you on the dirt road tonight. Bring a flashlight.”
Junior shook his head and turned for home knowing he could not let his friend down.
UNHOLY GROUND, A HORROR SHORT STORY, CHAPTER I
This story was accepted for publication by Books To Go Now in 2011
UNHOLY GROUND
Zeke Young
Shaking his head, John Taylor said to newcomer Zeke Young, “I wouldn’t build on this land if I was you.”
Zeke was a lean man, his face weathered from years of working someone else’s property. Now he would have a farm of his own. The year was 1754, early spring, and the men were standing deep in the western Pennsylvania woods. Zeke was not a man to be easily dissuaded. He fixed John Taylor with a hard stare, and asked, “Why would you say that?”
“Heard tell of strange things happening here on this land at night. People have seen a kind of glow in the trees, a moving glow. Them that seen the glow heard ungodly sounds too. Like a kind of moaning. People say this place is damned.
“Even the savages that live in these parts avoid this ground. They say it’s cursed, always has been. They speak of the Ancients, a tribe of demons that live here underground. These devils come to the surface to take those that violate their land. The Indians avoid this area like the plague. I would steer clear of it too if I was you.”
Zeke Young responded, “Sounds like just the place I’m looking for. Snooping neighbors and Indian raiding parties will pass me by. I recon, in the wilderness, a man needs help to survive, but I like my privacy. I’ll offer help when asked, but I’ll not pass the time of day in idle talk. Indians, I can do without.”
John Taylor warned again, “Don’t take it so lightly, Zeke. I tell you the Indians say there are devils living in this here ground. They say that sometimes if you put your ear to the ground, you can hear the devil’s moan. I wouldn’t settle my family in this place.”
“You might not,” Zeke said, “but I sure as hell will.”
THE WIZARD OF OZ CONTINUED
THE WIZARD OF OZ CONTINUED
Much as today there was a wide gulf between the haves and the have-nots. Back then the haves were called robber barons and fortunes were made by the manipulation of the gold standard for money.
The have-nots were agriculture workers and the rest of the working-class. Sound familiar. A movement, popularism, was started in support of the have-nots and Littlefield ‘decoded’ The Wizard of Oz in relation to the times then in existence with some interesting comparisons.
In Littlefield’s thinking the yellow brick road represents gold and those in support of the gold standard and that road leads to the Emerald City where we meet the wizard of Oz who turns out to be a phony.
Dorothy lives in Kansas, a state at the time and still is heavy in agriculture. Along with the farmer’s theme the scarecrow stands for the frightened farmers.
The Tin Man represents workers who have lost their heart.
Now to the cowardly lion. That character represents William Jennings Bryan, a well-known fierce orator who accomplishes nothing.
Then there are the witches of East and West. These characters represent the two coasts where political power and cities holding financial power exist.
Now for the ruby red shoes. In the book they are silver in color, the metal which the popularists want to be made into the monetary standard replacing gold.
Finally, the value of gold is expressed in ounces. What is the abbreviation for ounce?
CAT’S EYES, PART VI
CAT’S EYES, PART VI
When Joe was wheeled into the operating room, the first thing he noticed was a cat lying on a small table. It was being ventilated and sound asleep. Joe thought, When this is over, I’ll be seeing through your eyes, seeing what my cats find so interesting. And maybe, instead of going blind, a whole new universe will open for me to explore in my writing.
* * *
When Joe awoke he instantly felt for his eyes. They were covered in thick bandages. The nurse keeping watch over him quickly went to get Dr. Glassy.
“Joe, the surgery went fine. Better than I had expected. Your eyes will be bandaged for a few months to give the optic nerves time to heal and for your eye muscles to firmly attach to your new eyes.”
Joe reached out and Dr. Glassy took his hand. “Thanks, doctor. Thank you so much.”
Dr. Glassy answered, “When your bandages are removed we’ll determine how well your new eyes’ function, but I’m very hopeful.
CAT’S EYES, PART V
CAT’S EYES, PART V
The weeks went by slowly for Joe as his vision continued to deteriorate. He experienced a few side effects from the drug, but nothing serious. Finally, the day for his pre-op and conference with the surgeon arrived. He drove to the hospital to meet Dr. Greg Glassy.
After his pre-op exam, he found Glassy’s office and was soon led in. The man who rose from behind the large, cluttered desk was much younger than Joe expected. Joe doubted he was thirty-five.
Greg Glassy was tall and thin. He looked more like he belonged on a basketball court than in a surgical suite. The two men shook hands and Glassy motioned for Joe to sit down. Glassy said, “Joe, you’re about to make a great contribution to science by taking the first step in helping blind people to regain their vision. I must say that I would feel more comfortable to replace your eyes with those of a primate, but in all honesty, primates carry a host of diseases that are easily transferred to humans.”
“I appreciate your concern and help, Dr. Glassy. You’re well aware of my condition. I chose to have cat’s eyes to help me with my writing. I can’t explain it because I don’t fully understand what I will see, but I feel it will help my work.”
“Joe, you must understand that there is a huge risk of total blindness. The only reason I’ve agreed to use feline eyes is because of the article you brought to Howard’s attention. There is a good chance your optic nerves will fuse with the feline nerves.” After more discussion, Dr. Glassy rose, extended his hand, and said, “I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”
CAT’S EYES, PART IV
CAT’S EYES, PART IV
Joe was in the middle of writing a story. His phone rang, which he never answered, waiting for his machine to take care of the chore. The voice coming through the phone said, “Joe, it’s Howard. Pick up.”
Running to the phone, Joe answered and said, “Howard, what’s the news?”
“Let’s meet at the bar, Joe. I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
“I’ll see you there in an hour.”
When Joe walked in, he immediately saw Howard sitting at their usual table nursing a beer. Joe went to the bar, placed his order, and then went to sit with his friend, waiting for him to speak.
Howard looked into his beer for a while, and then looked at Joe. Without saying a word, Howard reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper which he pushed toward Joe.
“What’s this?” Joe asked, although he could see it was a prescription script.
Howard answered, “It’s a script for a heavy-duty anti-rejection drug.”
Joe’s face lit up.
“Listen, my friend, there may be some as yet unknown side effects associated with taking this. To say nothing of the tons of legal requirements which have to be met making sure you won’t sue if things go south after the surgery.” Howard then ran through a list of things that ranged from mere annoyances to life threatening.
Joe listened intently as he pocketed the script. “Howard, I’m having periods of wavy and blurred vision, bad enough at times to stop me from writing. I’ll do anything to be able to see perfectly again.
“Hold on, Joe. I’ve done some research too. You won’t be able to see as a human. You will have the vision of a cat.
“First of all, you will be nearsighted. Nearsightedness enables cats to catch their prey. That can be easily corrected. You will also be able to see extremely well in the dark, but with the absence of color. The big difference is what you see in the light. The only colors you will see are purple, blue and green. It will take some time for you to adapt to having the vision of a cat.
“My friend has agreed to do the surgery. He even got permission from the N.I.H. to do it as an experimental procedure. Of course, you’ll have to sign a ton of forms as I already mentioned.”
Joe was ecstatic. “This is great news. When can we do the surgery?”
“In a few weeks. You must take the course of anti-rejection drugs, and my friend has to find a cat totally free of disease.”
CAT’S EYES, PART III
CAT’S EYES, PART III
Joe met Howard at their usual spot and shared small talk through the first few rounds. Howard noticed that Joe suddenly became quiet and stared at him. Finally, Howard asked, “What’s on your mind, buddy?”
“Howard, I’ve been thinking about the eye transplant procedure you told me about.”
“Stop thinking about it, Joe. You have to take the person’s eyes out while they’re still alive. Except for some kidney and liver transplants, most transplants are not done until the donor is declared dead. Even for someone brain-dead, they do not begin harvesting until they pull the plug, and by then it’s too late for an eye transplant. I can’t imagine a family consenting to a transplant of a loved one’s eyes while the patient is still alive.”
Joe hesitated, and then said, “I don’t want human eyes.”
Howard cried, “What the hell, are you nuts?”
His raised voice brought stares from the other patrons who then rapidly returned to their drinks.
Joe continued, “Listen, Howard. I’ve been doing some research on my own, along with something I’ve observed in cats.”
Howard laughed, “This has got to be good,” but his body language indicated a total lack of ease.
Joe said, “I was looking up research involving cats and ran across an article published in The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences concerning the cat’s central nervous system: how it easily repairs itself. Maybe this is true of other nerves, like the optic nerve. Maybe the optic nerve could join with that of another species and restore sight.”
Howard began to feel uncomfortable. “Where the hell are you going with this, Joe?”
“I’m going blind. That’s where I’m going. I know I won’t be totally blind, but in my profession; I might as well be.”
“Now listen, Joe. There are plenty of options you can use to continue writing. Look into them.”
“Howard, I want to continue writing as I do now, just me, a pencil and a piece of paper. I don’t want a life where I can’t sit down anywhere I want and write. I’ve also become acquainted with what is known about how cats see. There’s something else, and you’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“Joe, I’ve passed that milestone some time ago.”
“I think cats can see something I can’t, that humans can’t. I want my eyes replaced with that of a cat.”
“Shit, Joe, you are nuts.”
“No, listen, Howard. A baboon heart was once implanted into a child when there was no hope of the child surviving. Pig valves are routinely used in heart surgery. Why not transplant cat’s eyes?”
They drank another beer in silence. Joe was talked out and Howard was pondering about what Joe had said. Howard broke the silence. “Damn it, Joe. I’ll talk to my friend. I also want to find out more about cat vision. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll see what I can do. And Joe.”
“Yes?”
“I still think you’re nuts.”
Joe’s mood lifted, “Thanks buddy. You’ve given me some hope.”
CAT’S EYES, PART III
CAT’S EYES, PART III
Joe met Howard at their usual spot and shared small talk through the first few rounds. Howard noticed that Joe suddenly became quiet and stared at him. Finally, Howard asked, “What’s on your mind, buddy?”
“Howard, I’ve been thinking about the eye transplant procedure you told me about.”
“Stop thinking about it, Joe. You have to take the person’s eyes out while they’re still alive. Except for some kidney and liver transplants, most transplants are not done until the donor is declared dead. Even for someone brain-dead, they do not begin harvesting until they pull the plug, and by then it’s too late for an eye transplant. I can’t imagine a family consenting to a transplant of a loved one’s eyes while the patient is still alive.”
Joe hesitated, and then said, “I don’t want human eyes.”
Howard cried, “What the hell, are you nuts?”
His raised voice brought stares from the other patrons who then rapidly returned to their drinks.
Joe continued, “Listen, Howard. I’ve been doing some research on my own, along with something I’ve observed in cats.”
Howard laughed, “This has got to be good,” but his body language indicated a total lack of ease.
Joe said, “I was looking up research involving cats and ran across an article published in The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences concerning the cat’s central nervous system: how it easily repairs itself. Maybe this is true of other nerves, like the optic nerve. Maybe the optic nerve could join with that of another species and restore sight.”
Howard began to feel uncomfortable. “Where the hell are you going with this, Joe?”
“I’m going blind. That’s where I’m going. I know I won’t be totally blind, but in my profession; I might as well be.”
“Now listen, Joe. There are plenty of options you can use to continue writing. Look into them.”
“Howard, I want to continue writing as I do now, just me, a pencil and a piece of paper. I don’t want a life where I can’t sit down anywhere I want and write. I’ve also become acquainted with what is known about how cats see. There’s something else, and you’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“Joe, I’ve passed that milestone some time ago.”
“I think cats can see something I can’t, that humans can’t. I want my eyes replaced with that of a cat.”
“Shit, Joe, you are nuts.”
“No, listen, Howard. A baboon heart was once implanted into a child when there was no hope of the child surviving. Pig valves are routinely used in heart surgery. Why not transplant cat’s eyes?”
They drank another beer in silence. Joe was talked out and Howard was pondering about what Joe had said. Howard broke the silence. “Damn it, Joe. I’ll talk to my friend. I also want to find out more about cat vision. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll see what I can do. And Joe.”
“Yes?”
“I still think you’re nuts.”
Joe’s mood lifted, “Thanks buddy. You’ve given me some hope.”
After the two friends parted, Joe went home to write. Howard went home to research cat’s eyes and how their vision differed from that of humans.
CAT’S EYES, PART II
CAT’S EYES, PART II
Joe thought constantly about what his friend had told him about the chance for a transplant and of his condition. Macular degeneration was a slow process, for some not so slow, but the endpoint was certain.
Joe was writing in his study Sammy walked in. Sammy was short for Samantha, and she was hell on wheels, or rather, paws. His older cat, Sally’s life was drastically disrupted by this new member of the family. When Sammy wasn’t running around like a maniac or sleeping, she was stalking Sally. Poor meek Sally was leading a tormented life. As Sammy entered the study, she was her usual hyperactive self. She paused to be petted, then ran about madly bouncing off the piles of books scattered around the house. In the middle of her insane race, she did something that Joe had seen both Sammy and Sally do. She stopped in her tracks, sat down, and gazed at the ceiling. She was watching something, something that Joe could not see, yet it took up her full attention. Sammy turned her head from side to side as if following a vision. After a few moments she returned to her manic activity.
What is she seeing? Joe thought. His writer’s mind began to work in overdrive. Among other genres, he wrote horror. Maybe she’s seeing ghosts, he thought. Imagine if I could see what she is seeing. Joe anticipated his next drinking session with Howard.
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