Morning all, only one snooze alarm button hit today so not running quite as late. This week has just sort of taken it out of me. More than most Fridays I find myself longing for the weekend. But soon, soon it will be here. so let’s bring it closer by getting Friday started shall we? So timers set for fifteen minutes and off we go…
Most mysterious for a Friday. And very comic book villain-esque. This could be fun to play around with. I might actually go with an over the top super villain. I haven’t had one of those in a while.
Friday, June 9th: He dropped it.
He dropped it. He could see it coming towards him, arching through the sky as though the baseball wanted nothing more than to come directly into his glove. It was as though the world slowed down and he could see the perfect curve through the air. The world went silent. It was just the ball and his glove, slowly rising to meet the ball.
To reach the perfect end of the curve he had to be far in the outfield, but that was okay, the rest of the team preferred he stay way in the outfield at the moment. Which made it more miraculous that the ball would be coming to him. The entire game both teams tried to pretend he didn’t exist. He stayed quietly in the dugout when it was his turn to bat. The team striking out before he could get his turn. Then in the field he went to he far field almost to the fence and certainly in the shadows of the tree line. He was okay with being half hidden. It was fine. But now they hit a ball towards him. He thought it might be a sign that redemption was near.
He could see the incoming ball, knew it would land directly into his glove. He thought of nothing but that ball. But the impact never came. ‘I dropped it,’ he thought incredulously. He didn’t see how though.
The ball was coming at him directly and his glove was raised. Yet there was no ball. He looked to the sky. No ball. He looked in his glove thinking maybe he had not felt the impact. No ball.
‘I had to have dropped it,’ he said. He looked around on the ground. No ball.
Suddenly he realized the world around was still quiet. It wasn’t just him blocking out the sound. No one was cheering. ‘My god I’ve made it worse,’ he thought. Dan looked around again, not wanting to look up at the silent crowd, the silent team as they stared in horror at the fact that he couldn’t catch the one ball hit towards him. He felt redemption slipping from his fingers.
Dan looked to the trees behind him, but there was no ball caught in it’s branches or on the ground beyond the fence. Finally he looked up. Something would have to be said. Dan’s eyes widened in horror as he took in the sight before him. All of his teammates were lying still on the ground. No one was moving. The other team likewise was taken down. Their batter was lying on the ground next to the plate, bat on the ground and seeming to point to the likewise crumpled umpire. The next up to bat was lying in a similar fashion halfway between the plate and the dugout. He couldn’t see into the floor of the dugout. From where he stood it looked empty. He looked at the stands. Everyone was slumped in their seats not moving.
He swallowed hard, his gaze swinging wide. There was nothing moving on the other fields either. No, there was movement. He spotted a large dark van. It was slightly smaller than a bus or an RV. It had a giant glowing contraption on the roof and it was slowly driving down the street that ran by the ball fields. It was heading into town. Dan froze, still half hidden in the tree line and wondered what he should do.
Ten til Midnight 