Bean Ball
A while back I promised a bit of my baseball fiction. Here is the beginning of a recent story, "Rain Day".
It begins with our hero splayed out in the batters box, recently beaned by a pitch. It is a position I know well.
Rain Day
Plastered on the ground, Kevin winced and reminded himself that batting helmets don't ring. It must be his imagination. He hoped that he'd also imagined his skin being peeled back and mixed with the chunks of gravel that surrounded home plate. He smelled rain. It was far off, but headed his way. He tasted one of the chalklines. Time dripped.
The coach yelled something from the bench. Kevin decided to stay on the ground for a few more seconds.
Reader Comments (1)
I love the line about him remembering that batting hats don't ring. Love the entire opening. How come you're not painting whales?