Ordering with this link is for items being mailed in the USA.
If you are ordering issues to be mailed to the U.K., go to the Down in the Dirt main page for U.K. shipping.

this writing is in the collection book Ink in my Blood (prose edition) (PDF file) download: only $4.95 (b&w pgs): paperback book $16.95 (b&w pgs):hardcover book $32.95 (color pgs): paperback book $64.95 (color pgs): hardcover book $74.95

get this writing in the collection book echo Download (color eBook): $4.95 paperback (5.5" x 8.5") w/ b&w interior pages: $18.95

Afterimages

Daniel Flaherty

    The doorbell rang but Mike didn’t think anything of it. He was watching Lost in Space, his favorite show and one he usually couldn’t see because of school. Now that summer vacation was here, he had three months of Lost in Space in the mornings and summer air outside.
    But then he heard his mother answer the door and say, “Oh, hi there, Randy,” and that was Mike’s dreams for the summer crushed.
    “Is Mike home?”
    “Yeah, he’s in the living room. Come on in.”
    Mike listened as Randy walked across the linoleum floor of the kitchen and into the living room. He punched Mike in the arm.
    “Hey, what’s up, dude?”
    “Hi, Randy.”
    “Watcha watching?”
    “Lost in Space.”
    “What?”
    “Lost in Space,” Mike said a little louder. “It’s just some program.”
    Randy crashed down on the couch next to Mike and sat there slumped, staring at the TV. Mike looked at him and saw that there was something in Randy’s pocket. The bulge caused Mike to feel a dreaded anticipation for whatever escapade Randy had planned for that afternoon. Randy always had adventures for him and Mike to do whenever they were together. These adventures often left Mike feeling morally sick, and terrified of getting caught. The most frightening thing they did was to dump their sodas down a mailbox because it would have meant juvenile hall for sure if they had gotten caught. But the worst was when they snuck into Ms. Richards’ backyard to pull her drying laundry down from the clotheslines and drop them into the muddy lawn. The Richards were close friends with Mike’s parents, and Mike kept thinking of the treats that they sometimes brought him as he snapped the laundry from the clothespins.
    A few nights after they did this, the Richards had come over for a visit. Mike sat up in his room and listened to the conversations downstairs.
    “Do you know what happened the other day?” Ms. Richards said. “Some jackass came into our property and pulled all the laundry I had set out to dry, and left them laying on the ground. I mean, why would anybody do something like that?”
    Why indeed? Mike wondered with his head lying on his desk. And why didn’t he ever say anything to Randy, tell him that they shouldn’t do these kinds of things?
    Because I’m a fraidy-cat. Mike concluded. Because I’m a coward.
    Randy suddenly gave a short laugh.
    “Man, this show blows. Let’s go find something to do.”
    Mike turned off the TV and put on his shoes.
    “Bye, guys,” Mike’s mom said.
    “Bye, mom.”
    When Mike stepped outside and let the door shut behind him, he felt like he was leaving behind his mother and the safe routine of the morning television, and putting up another building block to an adulthood that destiny hadn’t originally intended for him.

* * *

    They rode their bikes to a clearing in the forest where new houses were being developed. At first, Mike thought that Randy was going to have them vandalize the incomplete houses. But when Randy got off his bike, he walked around looking for something on the ground. He found it and crouched down. Mike went over to see what it was and saw a group of caterpillars crawling around. He crouched down next to Randy who pulled a magnifying glass from his pocket and held it in a way so the sun’s rays were concentrated in a direct beam. The unfortunate caterpillar tried to wiggle from the intense heat, but was eventually incinerated. Randy fried a second caterpillar and then handed the magnifying glass to Mike.
    “Here, you try.”
    Mike took the glass and positioned it so it was facing the sun, and held it over a caterpillar. He saw a bright circle of light, an intense spot of white light that hurt Mike’s eyes, a few inches from the caterpillar. He moved the glass so the light was concentrated on the insect’s back. At first it seemed the caterpillar didn’t feel it. But then it began squirming in discomfort, and then trashing in pain.
    Randy laughed as smoke drifted from the caterpillar’s hairy back.
    “Classic!” he said. “Take that one there!”
    Mike blinked his eyes, trying to get rid of the afterimage of circular light, and then held the glass over another caterpillar. He felt bad about doing it, but was still fascinated by how he directed the beam of light like a laser beam, and how it caused a reaction when it hit its target. It hurt to watch because of the brightness, but he couldn’t look away. But then there was a stabbing pain in his eyes and Mike squeezed them shut, looking away. The magnifying glass fell to the ground.
    “Ugh!” he moaned, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Hurts my eyes.”
    Mike opened his eyes, but all he could see were circular afterimages swimming around in darkness.
    “I can’t see!”
    Mike jumped up and pounded his fists against his thighs in panic.
    “Mike, calm down!”
    “I can’t see! I can’t see anything!”
    Mike started running, not thinking straight.
    “Mike, come back!” Randy shouted.
    Mike tripped on something and crashed to the ground. The impact caused his jaws to snap shut, biting into his tongue. Mike began sobbing.
    He cried, but no tears came out.

* * *

    Mike’s parents sat in the waiting room of the Maine Pediatric Children’s Hospital. The doctor came out to tell them the situation.
    “His eyes are seriously damaged. There’s acute dilation of the pupils.”
    “Will he ever see again?” the father asked.
    “There’s a chance. I don’t want to get your hopes up too much. There’s a seventy percent chance of failure, and even if we succeed with the operation, there’ll still be permanent damage.”
    The mother turned to weep and the father held her. The doctor watched, but felt no sympathy. When he had asked Mike how he had hurt his eyes, he learned that the kid had done it while frying bugs with a magnifying glass. The doctor clocked Mike as a bullying, snot-nosed brat. The schools were full of them. When he wasn’t hurting small animals, he was probably the terror of the playground. And the parents? An entitlement couple who spoiled their kid and raised him to expect to get everything he wanted, never to understand the consequences of his actions. Well, he knew the consequences now. The doctor’s only concern was that if the operation failed they’d probably sue the hell out of him and the hospital.
    In order for surgery to have any chance of success, the operation had to be done immediately. But the doctor opted instead to perform an appendectomy on a girl who was kind and a pleasure to have around.
    After the appendectomy, the next task would be to try and save Mike’s eyes. But it was almost three and the doctor hadn’t had lunch yet. He sat down in the cafeteria with his lunch and a Time magazine. He sat holding the magazine in one hand and a sandwich in the other. He sniffed and began eating.

* * *

    Mike sat on the couch listening to Lost in Space. From the kitchen he heard his mother on the phone, setting Mike up to be enrolled in a school for children with special needs.
    Something exciting was happening on the TV. The music grew sharp and intense. Mike heard a roar and then somebody scream. What was going on?
    Mike put his face in his hands and began crying.

* * *

    BOOM BOOM BOOM
    The base coming from the suped-up Mitsubishi stereo pounded. Whenever the car drove near a house, the windows would whine as they vibrated in their frames.
    The driver was Randy, now 31 and a managing consultant living in LA. He was in Maine with his girl Becky to visit his family and some old friends. They drove to Portland where they were going to meet up with a couple of Randy’s high school buddies at a club.
    Randy hit the accelerator and cut off a panel truck loaded with pumpkins. The driver blared his horn, but Randy just turned the stereo up. The music was too loud to make out the lyrics, but Randy knew them by heart anyway:

    Hells yeah!
    Me and my crew, ready for some humpin’.
    Cruisin’ for the honeys
    Stereo thumpin’.
    “Girl, come over here and sit on my lap.”
    Bitches come cuz they knows I’m where it’s at. Ugh!

    Randy found a place to park, and they got out and walked in the direction of the club.
    Randy didn’t recognize his old school friend, but up ahead, Mike sat behind a cart that held some apples. Mike heard the couple approaching and said: “Excuse me folks. Care to buy an apple?”
    “No, thanks,” Randy said, and then reached out and grabbed an apple off the cart.
    Becky looked at him agape.
    “Oh my god, that was so cheap!” she said when they turned a corner.
    She tried to sound angry, but Randy heard the amusement in her voice and knew the danger of the theft excited her.
    “He won’t miss it. I mean, he’s selling them for a dollar each. A buck for an apple! Talk about a rip-off!”
    He tossed the apple to Becky.
    “And how much of our tax dollars do you think it costs to take care of him?”
    Becky took a bite of the apple and grimaced.
    “Oh god, it’s all soft!”
    Randy took the apple and bit off a piece, immediately spitting it out in the gutter.
    “Christ. Guess these aren’t in season any more.”
    Randy looked around for a trash can. When he spotted one, he tossed in the apple. On the side of the trashcan was a sign that read: PLEASE KEEP OUR STREETS CLEAN. DON’T LITTER.
    It could be argued that Randy wasn’t a complete asshole.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...