My name's Samuel Light Junior, but all my friends call me Sammie. My Mom calls me Sprung, because I've grown like a wild weed lately. My best teacher calls me Leech, because once I get my eager hands on a new novel I won't let go. I just read and read and read until my eyeballs become so weary they look like red lobsters that have been just boiled.
I have this gift. Sort of. It's not really a gift so much as a legacy, an inheritance, a kind of genetic light up that cause me to do weird things like see dead people, relive other people's past lives...as if our own weren't enough, heal people...not all the time, just certain times...and levitate...not very far, depends on the occasion. I think you're getting the drift from what I've said so far that I don't have a lot of control over my abilities.
That's what Al says, he's my angel friend who used to be Albert Einstein on the Earth, but now spends all his time...at the time I see him...in a ghostly form, egging me on to do better, acting the better part of a Yoda, and sometimes the worst, and dancing and singing a lot with M...the golden blonde of Hollywood flame who caused many a sailor and soldier to wish they knew her better. Al and her get along great. Nothing sexual going on. I don't even know if angels are even wired that way, at least these kinds.
I haven't seen any with wings, though I've been assured by my local Church pastor that they do exist, though when I ask him what they look like, he's a bit vague. Myself, I can describe Al and M to the last detail, and even their unearthly habits...remember they're not humans like us anymore, though some might say they're more human than most of us.
So on one of those nights when I've put in a long day on the field and track, or slamming a ball across the third base for a home run and hightailing it about the bases before I get my you know what tagged, I'm usually drained and ready for bed.
"Mom, heading for the shower." I told Mom as I entered the front door with Jimbo trailing me with a handful of chips and a coke.
"Dinner in thirty." She yelled at us as we ran up the stairs to my second floor bedroom that overlooks the front yard. It's a beautiful yard, especially in the Spring when all the daisies and roses spread their petal wings and dance in the winds, showing off their bright colors and casting off their fragrant scents.
Slam! Jimbo shut the window.
I gave him the look. He shrugged and sniffed. "Allergies."
"Allergies, my baseball bat." I cried out, putting my bat in the corner of my closet.
"Really." He insisted. I gave him another of those looks, but he didn't flinch.
The better part of valor with Jimbo, my gnarly, rebellious Texan immigrant, is to usually give in, because he's bigger than pretty much everyone, except me. I top him by two or so inches. But what I have in height, he has in girth. He's one big dude. Built like a bulldog with enough teeth to take down a Bengal Tiger. Don't ever tell him I said that or he'll bite both of us and spit us out for breakfast.
"Me first." I yelled as I dashed for my bathroom and the shower. I slammed the door in his face before he could cut me off.
I tossed my clothing on the floor. It was caked with lime from the field markings, dirt, weeds and green stains from the grass between the markings.
I shuddered a moment as a stream, more like a blasting arctic wind, caught me in its cruel claws and ripped me open from the inside out, exposing my wind interior to a furious blast of shivering cold water. I yelped like a dog howling at the moon.
I heard laughter over the shower stream. I couldn't figure out why.
Finished, I got out, my whole body shaking, then saw Jimbo turn on the hot water pipes again.
"You dog!" I cursed at him.
"Bark bark." He shot back at me with a big Texan man-eating grin.
I shook my head, causing my mop of blonde hair to shower him with cold water.
He shot up so fast he banged his head into the sink door. "Owww!" He cried out.
My Mom's voice hammered at the bedroom door. "You two scoundrels at it again?"
"No Mom!" We both said at the same time.
She laughed so hard that both of us fell into stitches, realizing how stupid and silly we were both acting. To show Jimbo I had forgiven him as he took his own clothing off to shower, I snapped my wet towel across his buttocks with a loud snap.
"Yell!" He cried out, turning to look at the red mark I had made.
I grinned. "You always wanted to look like an Indian."
He started to chase me, and I slammed the bathroom door in his face. "Come after me and I'll eat all the food before you can get any." I warned.
The door knob which had been forcing in my hand relaxed.
The door banged open, sending me flying across my bed.
After he showered and I had rubbed some ointment on my own red bottom and generously passed some on to him for his, we both stomped downstairs, happy and hungry enough to eat a bear.
Mom had made us a huge basket of bread rolls dripping with butter, corn on the cob, a bowl of beans and fried chicken.
We dug in and she watched us with amazement as we managed to eat every single piece of food on the table. After we finished, she quizzed us on how track and baseball were going, and we filled her in.
Mom looked at Jimbo. "Sticking round for the night?"
He looked at me. I shrugged. He gave me a hurt look.
I turned to Mom. "I'd love the big old goofball to stay. Can he?"
"If you promise not to trash the house with your antics."
"Cross my heart and hope to die." He said with a very serious look on his face, even as he was kicking me under the table.
I refused to do the same. "I can't cross two hearts with one hand." I told him.
We helped Mom clean up the kitchen, then took out the garbage and helped her clean the house. I took the living room and Jimbo the dining room. We usually did that when he stayed. It was also good for Mom, as she could kick back and watch her favorite news program.
Finished, we were more than tired enough to go to bed.
"Early to bed." I told her with a light kiss on her cheek.
"Earth to rise." Jimbo said giving her a sloppy kiss on her other cheek.
She shoved him back. "Jimbo!" She giggled.
He smiled, then we headed upstairs.
We dug into my pile of Marvel comic books and read until about nine, then turned out the lights. He slept on the left side of the bed and I on the other. He slept in a sleeping bag he left for himself and I under the covers.
In moments he was snoring loudly. Needless to say, I wasn't snoring or sleeping.
I lay there a long time thinking about how many ways I could shut him up without killing him, but nothing seemed to work except murder, so I decided to tough it out.
Just when I thought things could get no worse, there was a pounding in my closet. I sat up, startled. Nothing. I started to lay back down and the noises started again, like metal shifting about. I didn't have anything metal in my closet.
I jumped up, grabbed my bat and went to the closet. I threw open the door and aimed my bat over my head. "Come out or I'll bash you over the head!"
Something very, very large rose from the floor until it towered over me. I backed up and it stepped out of the closet and quietly withdrew a sword almost as tall as I was. The sword was bloody red and almost seemed alive. It gave off a blaze of energies like none I had ever seen before.
The Black Knight stood there gazing at me with mournful eyes through a head mask of pure burnished black metal.
"I am the Knight of Nights and I challenge you to a duel to the death."
"Wait!" I said, holding a hand out.
"I was only kidding. I thought you were a burglar or something."
The Knight wavered, his sword dropping somewhat. "A what?"
"A thief!" I answered.
He charged me. "I'm no thief!"
Before he could strike me with the sword Jimbo sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Who's the damsel after you, Sammie?"
The Knight froze in horror. It looked at itself as if seeing itself for the first time, then wheeled to face Jimbo. "Prepare to die, knave!"
Jimbo laughed. "No one talks that way anymore!"
The Knight screamed and charged the bed.
A loud pounding struck the bedroom door.
"You two fighting again?"
The Knight froze, turned its helmed head to look at the door.
"Did you hear me? Don't make me come in there and hurt you?" She warned.
The Knight began to shake with fear and back into the closet. "What manner of female demon lives in this house?" He asked us.
Jimbo grinned. "His mother."
The Knight slammed the closet door on himself the same time as I flipped on the lights and opened the door for Mom. She peered inside, saw Jimbo in his sleeping bag, then eyed me closely. "Bad dream?"
I grinned. "You could say that."
"Good night boys. Up at seven. French toast."
Jimbo saluted her. "Yes, M'am!"
She laughed and shut the door. The moment she did, we both sprang for the closet door to open it. We threw it open, but all that was inside there were my clothes and boxes of comic books.
Jimbo looked at me and I looked at him.
"Don't ask me." I uttered, then shut the door and went back to bed.
He did the same.
Jimbo tapped me on the shoulder. "Your life scares me sometimes."
"Yeah. Me too."
"Love it!" He whispered, then. "Night, Sammie!"
John Pirillo"Writing fuels the heart and soul!" Science Fiction, Fantasy and Adventure Tales to Take Your Breath Away!