So, Princess of the Seamless fame desecrated my half of the basketball court with a massive 360-spinner slam-dunk at 2,600MPH… Oh it’s on now!
The instructions:
1. You take the story, and give it your own unique twist.
2. Link back to the blogger who whispered to you and or include their name in your post.
3. Whisper the new challenge into the ear of a blogger of your picking.
4. Let them know by leaving a comment at theirs.
Pass it on with the instructions!
5. To keep track guys, let’s link the versions here:
Part 1 - Part 2
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Hez’s Story
An unearthly scream wakes me up from my reverie.
I can tell it’s coming from the neighbor’s house. Normally, I pretty much ignore the world, but I have a soft spot for the family next door. I swing my leg over the bed and reach down for my crutch.
I know the pain is coming, and I steel myself against it. Besides, I’ve gotten a little used to it. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Or maybe I’m just kidding myself. Oh well…
SHIT!!
The pain comes, more painful than an electric shock, racing up my thigh as the stump of my leg violently resists any form of movement.
Oh damn this hurts!
I’ll not bother with the details, but my right leg was amputated six months ago, just above the knee. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around not having two legs.
I hobble out the room I’m in, past the messy dining room and into the living room. For a brief instant, I hesitate. I’m not a fan of the outside world anymore.
Another bloodcurdling scream makes my mind up for me.
Stepping through the front door, I ignore the blinding sunshine and the fear that grips my heart.
Round the hedge separating the neighbor’s house from mine, I go, moving as fast as I can. The screaming continues, making me wish I could still run. Or at least walk…
I enter their compound, and head straight for the backyard, where the scream is coming from. A small crowd of children has gathered around the fish-pond.
Standing in the midst of them is Mama Jacob, screaming as though one of her children has died.
Right next to her is Jacob, with a strange smile on his face.
I know that smile. I have seen it before. My heart nearly stops.
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Ever since my leg was amputated, Jacob was the only person I tolerated for more than a few seconds. Well, if you added the maid who came in daily, it makes two people, but she’s inconsequential, just a means to an end. And she feared me too much to spend more than a few seconds in my presence.
Here’s why. Everyone else always looked at my stump, and I could see the loathing, the fear, the questions, the pity, the anger on their faces. And it annoyed me no end. I didn’t want pity. I hated questions. I just wanted them to leave me alone.
Jacob. Now he completely ignored my half-leg and accepted me for what or who I was, no questions asked.
He was a genius, Jacob, and I knew it the first time I talked to him. And for some reason, he preferred the company of a lonely old man with an amputated leg and a gruff temper to that of his peers.
In our loneliness, with our own questions, and frustrations, we bonded. Sometimes we’d sit for hours on end, just quiet. Not a word. Only the sounds of the birds in the trees. It was easy to forget he was only four years old
He loved to learn, Jacob. His mind was like a sponge. Having exhausted the children’s books I had at home, the ones I’d bought for my daughter…
My daughter… no. I will not go down that road again.
Having exhausted those books, he turned his eyes to the bigger books I had in my humble library. Of the hundreds of books in there, Jacob seemed particularly interested in the section labeled “Medicine”. I would sometimes wake up from a nap and find him staring at a picture in a book, fascinated. Once, I watched him for close to ten minutes and he never ever took his eyes off the picture. Later, when he’d gone home, I picked up the book, “Henry Gray’s Anatomy of the Human Body” … the picture was “Neck arteries, illustrated by Henry Vandyke Carter“. I was impressed.
We had good times, Jacob and I. I enjoyed his company as much as he did mine. He reminded me of everything I’d lost, and through his eyes, I learned to hope again, to trust in something bigger than me, and most importantly, to believe in the goodness of people.
Wait… where am I going with this?
Yes. The smile.
One day, I got back home from some obscure outing, exercising the body, as the stupid charlatan doctors called it. I found the door open, and for a minute I panicked. Then, relief, as I saw Jacob sitting in the living room, with several of my books scattered around him. Each opened at a place that had pictures. And in the middle of the room, right in front of Jacob, was a huge rat, cut open, still squirming, limbs and intestines pinned to the floor.
I gasped. He turned and looked at me. With a very strange smile on his face…
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I have reached the kids now. They part, making way for me. I look at Mama Jacob, who stops screaming when she sees me. We lock eyes for a long second, and in that moment of anguish, I get the whole story. The screaming didn’t lie. She has the look of a woman who has lost it all.
She looks down at Jacob. She knows I’m the only one he confides in.
I kneel down. Don’t ask how I achieve this. I ignore the pain, it is the least of my worries. Jacob’s still looking at the pond. I gently touch his shoulder. He turns and looks at me, still with that smile on his face.
My heart sinks, and I fear for the worst. I sense his mother’s body stiffening, and she begins sobbing.
Then, Jacob laughs and points at the pond.
The water’s surface suddenly erupts and out comes Sara gasping, fighting, spluttering for air.
There’s a collective gasp, then a hush, then chaos; kids screaming, laughing, crying, Jacob smiling (a better smile now), Sara trying hard to laugh while still gasping for breath, and I, falling back on the grass with relief.
And to crown it all, having endured too much shock for one day, a mother faints besides me.
Where are my manners? In the midst of all this chaos, I have completely forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Hezekiah. My friends… well, the few that are left, call me Hez.
* * *
And since I’m expressly forbidden to whisper this to myself, I am whispering this story into The Streetsider’s ear. Wreak havoc, my friend.