“Strike three, you’re out!” Noah yelled from the pitcher’s mound, pumping his fist in the air.
Aaron replied with a throaty moan from the batter’s box.
Noah sighed. He plopped down on the pitcher’s plate in a puff of chalk dust.
Aaron turned his attention to the baseball bat he awkwardly handled in his decaying hands. His rotting brain couldn’t process why the object was familiar.
The night sky was clear and the baseball field was deserted. The slo-pitch teams had abandoned the field to seek the consolation of their local sponsor bar. The night lights still illuminated the field and would do so until the timer shut them off.
Noah had needed to get out of the house as Aaron’s pungent smell threatened to reveal his presence to Noah’s parents. The assortment of air fresheners and deodorizers could no longer mask his stench. Noah’s parents knew he was up to something; they probably thought he was smoking pot.
Despite Aaron’s pale skin and dark, sunken eyes, Noah’s mind fooled him by superimposing an image of a healthy, vibrant boy. But, that image slipped away. Noah looked down at the ground.
It was never going to be the same, he thought. Noah stood up and tossed his baseball glove aside.
Noah strode from the pitcher’s mound to home plate.
Aaron acknowledged Noah with a groan.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said with hot tears flowing over his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have brought you back.”
Noah reached into Aaron’s chest cavity and pulled out a worn, brown gris-gris bag.
Aaron’s eyes rolled back into his head and his legs gave out from under him. Noah caught him around the waist and let him come to rest on the ground.
Noah held Aaron well after the night lights had gone off.
____________________________
©2011 Jason Shayer
Tags: Jason Shayer
February 22nd, 2011 at 9:31 am
Hey awesome story. are u getting it published?
February 24th, 2011 at 2:09 pm
Just now got around to reading this one. Nicely done. Ultimately very poignant.
May 4th, 2011 at 4:35 pm
Thank you for the kind comments.