Every Friday from now until I get bored or fail to do it, I’ll post a story from my life for all to read under the feature name “Fireside” to complement my “Depth Perception” (movie reviews) and “Full Report” (game reviews) features.

These stories will be told in the first person and will be mostly factual and as long or as short as they need to be. Writer’s embellishment and minor factual forgetfulness aside, I hope you enjoy these.

“Read more” links shall always follow these features, so apologies to anyone subscribing via RSS.

Fielded Dreams 

“Where are you taking me?” Abby asked me from the passenger seat.

“I’m kidnapping you,” I replied, unthreateningly.

“Okay,” she said, non-chalant.

We drove to the old baseball field. My steel gray Le Sabre was a mess of empty Coke bottles and forgotten pieces of paper with a sagging roof interior held up by staples.

I was a typical sixteen or seventeen year old in “love”. Everytime I saw her my stomach would backflip into my larynx and the stupidest crap came out of my mouth. I loved her, or so I thought. After all, what does a sixteen or seventeen year old know about the quality of love, except that it’s immediate, pressing, and the world hangs or breaks by every word she says.

To put it lightly, I was a fool.

We arrived at the field without incident. I parked the car. It was just past nine o’clock.

“I often come here to think,” I lied, hoping it would make me sound cool, mysterious, or deep in some way. She didn’t respond, merely unlocked her door and stepped out in step with me. We walked over to the metal bleachers, the ones I always thought made the most interesting noises that were beyond duplication or description.

“We need to talk,” I declared.

“About what?” she asked, calmly.

I drew in a deep breath and sent a quick prayer Heavenward. Tonight would hang or break by what we discussed. My courage waivered and bolstered, my hands were slick and trembling.

…

“It’s 11:11,” she said as I drove her home. “Make a wish.”