Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300.
The prompts: This story must contain the words hot dog, rope, radio
Boys of Summer
The wrinkled hand reached over shakily and adjusted the radio dial. The game wouldn’t be on for a few minutes. That was okay with him; it would take a bit of time for him and his walker to make it the ten feet to where the battered old Lazy Boy waited patiently.
The effort it took to make muscles work his creaky old joints could be plainly seen in the expression on his face. He would pay for this short foray into the Assisted Living recreation room. He had seen too many years for his body to forgive any physical endeavor. He didn’t mind; fair was fair.
The game came on as he eased himself into the chair. At the familiar sound of the announcer’s voice, he found himself, as always, instantly propelled back in time. He had been a young boy once and the crack of the bat made him a boy once again, if only in his mind.
His thoughts would always start at the first game he had ever attended. He was excited beyond belief. All of his favorite players were there. The sounds of the fans filled his ears as hotdogs and peanuts filled up his stomach.
Eventually, his mind roamed through any number of events, all part of the simple life of a young boy in a simpler time. There had been games of chase and tag. There were adventures like the time they had snuck into the old abandoned Hanson mansion. Looking back in time, even tragedies had a fondness about them; like the time he fell off of the rope swing and broke his arm.
Eventually, the radio resumed its original programming. He let the memories linger a little longer as he offered up a bit of thanks for the Boys of Summer.
The prompts: This story must contain the words hot dog, rope, radio
Boys of Summer
The wrinkled hand reached over shakily and adjusted the radio dial. The game wouldn’t be on for a few minutes. That was okay with him; it would take a bit of time for him and his walker to make it the ten feet to where the battered old Lazy Boy waited patiently.
The effort it took to make muscles work his creaky old joints could be plainly seen in the expression on his face. He would pay for this short foray into the Assisted Living recreation room. He had seen too many years for his body to forgive any physical endeavor. He didn’t mind; fair was fair.
The game came on as he eased himself into the chair. At the familiar sound of the announcer’s voice, he found himself, as always, instantly propelled back in time. He had been a young boy once and the crack of the bat made him a boy once again, if only in his mind.
His thoughts would always start at the first game he had ever attended. He was excited beyond belief. All of his favorite players were there. The sounds of the fans filled his ears as hotdogs and peanuts filled up his stomach.
Eventually, his mind roamed through any number of events, all part of the simple life of a young boy in a simpler time. There had been games of chase and tag. There were adventures like the time they had snuck into the old abandoned Hanson mansion. Looking back in time, even tragedies had a fondness about them; like the time he fell off of the rope swing and broke his arm.
Eventually, the radio resumed its original programming. He let the memories linger a little longer as he offered up a bit of thanks for the Boys of Summer.
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