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|Struck (standard:romance, 6920 words)|
|Author: J. Nicklaus||Added: Jan 22 2002||Views/Reads: 2147/1451||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Love can make you do things any sane person wouldn't.|
Late evening settled uneasily over the basin lake. The ominous thunderclouds overhead were certainly a portent of things to come. Tom Schilling and his wife Sandy stood in their living room looking through the bay window of their cabin watching their neighbor of eight years go through his usual ritual for stormy nights. “As many times as I’ve talked to him, I still don’t understand what drives him to do it” Tom muttered aloud. Sandy watched Tom’s eyes. He and Jes had become good friends since their first meeting on the lakeshore eight years ago. Tom’s concern for his friend was genuine. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder as a quiet show of support. “All we know for sure is he steadfastly believes she is out there” Sandy whispered. The couple watched the clouds begin to light up from within as lightning careened throughout them. Tom turned, as he did every time, to go try to reason with Jes. “I have to try, hun. “ “I know. Remember, he’s got a big heart. Talk to his heart, not to him” she offered. Tom kissed her on the cheek then spun and hurriedly walked outside before Jes got his metal boat on the lake. Sandy closed her eyes and listened to each footstep as it landed on the wood floor, then the familiar creak of the wooden screen door as it opened and closed. Then she turned her gaze back through the bay window. From where she stood she could see the lake water becoming a little choppy, and Tom’s hair blow in the wind. Night reached over and placed its hand on the Sun’s shoulder. II Jes glanced up at the gathering storm. Here was another opportunity to finally make the last piece fall into place. Many mistook his actions for suicidal tendencies, mostly because there was no way anyone could understand what he had experienced nor what burned in his heart. He carefully stowed his battery-powered lamp under the bench seat of the small boat, and placed the plastic-encased blanket right next to it. He paused and took a moment to take in the encroaching storm. Closing his eyes he allowed all of his senses to feel the onset of night, and the natural tenseness of the storm. As he opened his eyes he caught a black raven coasting on the breeze. “Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." Damn Poe, he thought. Inwardly he was grateful for not having a chamber door. With a deep breath and exhalation, he donned his rain slicker then set about launching the boat. III Gravel and old pine needles crunched under Tom’s feet as he strode down to the small dock. He called out ahead to try and catch Jes’ attention. “Jes!” He watched for a response, continuing to walk forward, but none came. “Jeesssssss!” he shouted again. The wind seemed determined to prevent his voice from reaching its destination. Still no answer. He began running when he saw Jes put on his rain slicker. The loud thump of slowing footsteps on the wooden planking of the dock made Jes look up. “Hey Tom” “Hey Jes” Tom replied, although almost out of breath. “Jeez I’m getting old” Click here to read the rest of this story (787 more lines)
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