The basketball’s leather exterior, porous as it may be, did not dampen the free throw line. Leonard made sure of that; it’s surface coat smooth as a pumpkin’s rind.
Leonard hid in the trees, waiting for an unsuspecting baller (that’s what he called the little boys, sometimes stressing the first syllable in a mock-anxiety-tone: “BAAAWLER”), and to pass the time he polished his Church retreat rock, given to him by Father Joe, their mutual do-not-tell-a-soul relationship long expired once Leonard figured out there had been others.
As the wind sighed, Leonard noticed a frazzled tendril of leather dancing atop his basketball and this annoyed him to no end. “I should cut it off,” he kept thinking, but to do so meant climbing down the large Maple tree. He decided against it. He’d wait, alternating his time between polishing his rock and whittling a small snapped branch.
Eleven-year-old Jamaal, on his way home from school, decided to cut through Welter Park, and when he reached the basketball court, Leonard’s heart spoke through his ears, the same reassuring message pounding into his head: Inspire, inspire, inspire... He preferred someone a bit older, someone around the same age he had been when Father Joe touched him with a speech about “Inspiration.” However, this younger boy would have to do. “I will lead the way,” Leonard whispered. “I will lead the way through the valley of darkness.”
Once Jamaal reached the top of the key, Leonard shouted down to him, “Hey there, you. Yeah, you.”
Puzzled as to where the voice came from, the gentle breeze manipulating its origins, Jamaal did a clumsy pirouette.
“Up here,” Leonard shouted. “Toss me the ball.”
Jamaal proceeded with caution.
“Come ‘on, I don’t have all day.”
Jamaal dropped his backpack and quickly picked up the ball. With both hands, he tossed it with all his might.
“You gotta do better than that,” Leonard shouted.
No matter how hard the boy tried, he could not throw the ball high enough. “I’m sorry Mister,” he said. “I’ve got to go home.”
Leonard had hoped to deliver his own version of the “Inspiration” speech, and as luck would have it, Jamaal wiped the salty sweat from his eyes.
12 comments:
Without prejudice, Jim.
Sort of like "When a teacher meets a teacher coming through the rye."
I'd say you can't use too many words, and go on for too long in your lead, your opener, otherwise it comes out a bit awkward.
Pare it right down, minimum words, words have to be cut down to the minimum, leaving the ones that work best, even if you have to use slang.
You've got:
The basketball’s leather exterior, porous as it may be, did not dampen the free throw line. Leonard made sure of that; it’s surface coat smooth as a pumpkin’s rind.
I think I'd go,
The basketball, once nappy was now smooth as silk. It would have no drag now, would not dampen the throw line. Leonard had made sure of that; its coat was now smooth as a pumkin rind.
Gotta sweat words, all throughout the copy and cut out all unnecessary verbiage.
I guess you could read Updike for style.
Otherwise, you have a good Halloween story here.
Sort of poor young Jamaal meeting The Man From Glad or somebody, trying to play hoops in the trees.
"Mom!"
Yep, I'd agree with your assessment. Perhaps I'll toy around with it a bit more and post a revised version--that would make it 500th post--Why not. Thanks.
Nice and creepy.
Jim, this piece allows room for the mind to jump to and fro while reading it. Wondering what are Leonard's thinking and plans with his "student." I liked that chill your tale conjours.
Real smooth.
And it works.
Ivan, put the bottle down, you're scaring me!
It sure grips then leads the mind into some unpleasant places... why is Leonard in the tree? Why is he waiting for unsuspecting kids? What, exactly, does he plan to deliver...?
Run Jamaal! Run your friggin' ass off!
Very icky. Keep up the good work.
well done, jr... you freak! ;) lol
JR: This gives me the really truly willies. Very disturbing! What a great job! D
Interesting story.
Several months ago, I was reading here and mentioned that I liked the way you included photos from when you were a kid. I had misplaced many of mine, and then recently my siblings and I were going through Mom's boxes of pictures back at the homestead and have started working them into posts. Thanks for the hat tip about that contest.
Your style of writing struck a chord with me and drew me in.
Leonard scared me...
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