Welcome

Welcome to my page.  I am an aspiring writer and am using this site to post sample writings (mostly short pieces) for comments and reviews.  Please choose a selection and leave a comment for review (even if you hate it).  I would appreciate any feedback I can get.  Thanks for stopping by.  -Steve

A Homerun Adventure

I found myself being awakened by a strange odor. As I began to focus on my surroundings, I realized that it was wafting down from somewhere above me. The smell was one I have never experienced before, but it was pleasant. The sunlight drifts down through the cracks in the canopy above me. The stalks that surround me shoot straight up into the perforated ceiling. As I scan them closer, I notice large thorns randomly placed along the shafts; probably the cause of the scratches I received upon entry into this cavernous shroud. The ground around me is cool and moist, almost wet. It lacks vegetation of any sort except that of the long, tall, green, thorny trees that surround me. I follow the stalks skyward and try to make out what kind of foliage is above me. The sun leaking through the cracks makes it hard to focus. A breeze drifts by, swaying the trees ever so slightly. I notice through the thick of the forest, there is a large bug nibbling on one of the stalks.
“How did I get here?” I begin to wonder. As I try to remember what occurred to find me in this strange place, my mind begins to race. “Wait a minute,” I start thinking, “I can’t remember how I got here!” Thought after thought careened through my mind the way line drives zing past the pitcher’s head. “Did I fall? Was I pushed? Have I been here all along? Did I somehow sprout from the ground?” After panicking for a few minutes, I came back to face reality and started to analyze my surroundings. I have a few scratches. There are thorns on these tree-stalk things. I must have come in from outside somewhere. I start looking for a point of entry. As I look up and focus a little better, I find the canopy is made up of red flowers. “That smell,” I thought, “Those flowers are just like the ones in Tommy’s living room. Roses, I think he called them.” They smelled nice, but were little comfort for my crisis. Thinking about the roses, I remembered Tommy, which made me remember the baseball game. We were at a baseball game, together. It was just a sandlot game, but those were always the best. I remember now. Tommy pitched one straight across the plate to Freckles (His real name is Leonard, but everyone calls him ‘Freckles’ because he has freckles all over). He swung the bat like he was some kind of pro ball player and it made the same loud ‘CRACK’ sound that Tommy’s brother’s bat made last week in the league championships. Just like that game, the pitch went soaring out over the infield; then over the outfield. Screaming kids were running their hearts out to try to get under it. They came to the fence and had to stop. Over the fence was forbidden territory. Mean, old Mrs. Wheeler lived behind the lot and she grew flowers in her backyard garden.
After a few minutes of debate, Tommy finally lumbered over the big, wooden privacy fence, catching his pant leg on the top of a board. He struggled to get free and, with a ripping sound, fell to the ground. He picked himself up, brushed off his pants and examined the cuff. “Mom’s gonna kill me” he mumbled. His focus then shifted to Mrs. Wheeler’s backyard. He surveyed the territory and began to tiptoe around like a thief breaking into the Baseball Hall of Fame, as if that would help eliminate leaving evidence of his intrusion. Stealthfully, he crept around the yard, combing through bush after bush of flowers. Suddenly, his face brightened up when he pulled back a handful of roses. There was his prize. Excitedly, he reached into the bush, but pulled back his arm after the roses attacked him with their thorny arsenal. He examined the damage. It was minor. He scanned the area for another point of entry and decided to crouch down on the grass and attempt a ground assault to claim his reward. He slid his hand underneath the roses and victoriously retrieved his target. He quickly jumped to his feet and scrambled as quietly and gently as he could back to the fence, relaying his quarry over the fence to someone and, while still running jumped as high as he could to scale the monstrous wall. He caught a hold on the top of the fence and that was just enough to enable him to scamper to the top and reach the other side. Once he gathered himself together, he picked up his mitt and put it on. He retrieved me from Sammy and the team chattered as they went back to the field to finish the game. Sitting in his mitt, I have never felt so safe and secure. I was home again. A boy and his baseball reunited is a beautiful thing. We headed to the mound and readied for the next inning.