103 Degrees
January's Short Story
Each month I request writing prompt from my readers and choose one to use as the basis for a short story. The prompt is a launching point and I try to incorporate as much of the concepts and ideas as possible while applying a generous dose of artistic license. This is the story born out of January’s prompt (posted below after the story). I hope you enjoy it!
Leave a comment with your writing prompt suggestion!
Ian’s eyes burst open, and he felt his heart pound against the backside of his ribs. The whirling buzz in his mind fought against his attempts to bring the dimly lit room into focus. A bead of sweat trickled across his forehead and down past his ear, drawing his attention to the damp pillow under his head.
A figure stepped forward out of the shadows, face slowly illuminated as she drew closer to the bedside lamp. Ian’s mother sat on the edge of the bed and gently pressed a cold, wet cloth to his forehead. The cooling sensation brought a wave of relief that was quickly swept away by the heat radiating from his skin.
“You’re still burning up,” his mother said. “If this fever doesn’t come down by morning, we will take you to the doctor.”
“But, I don’t wanna go.” He kept his eyes focussed on his mother’s face as whenver he looked at the room beyond her, everything started to warble and spin.
“Never the less, if that’s what it takes to get you feeling better, that’s what we’ll do.”
“Okay.” His protest wasn’t about Dr. Smith. He was a nice enough doctor. It was the fifteen-mile ride over bumpy roads he wanted to avoid if at all possible, particularly in his current state.
“Your father and I have to go to town to get some supplies. We’ll pick up some more medicine too if we can. I just wanted to check in on you once more before we left.” His mother dabbed his forehead with the cloth one more time. It was no longer cool to the touch, but the simple act itself was quite soothing.
“Okay.”
“We’ll be back as soon as we can. You just stay here and rest, sweetheart.”
“I will.”
“Alright. I love you, sweet boy.”
Ian’s mother gave him a kiss and then walked out of the room. He laid in bed quietly, waiting and listening for the sound of the front door closing. Normally, he would have considered a few hours at home alone and unsupervised a delightful opportunity, but not today. He had started to feel under the weather a few days ago. The fever hit in the middle of the night, leaving him bedridden, exhausted, and miserable.
The short days of the winter months meant what light there was seeping through the crack between his bedroom curtains soon faded. Ian lay still in his bed, too tired and sore to move. He hoped sleep would soon find him again and that he would wake up feeling much better than he currently did. To occupy his mind, he tried to think of the most complicated words he knew and then attempt to correctly spell them out in his head.
He knew the dullness caused by the fever was making it difficult to concentrate, but it was the tingling in his feet that was especially distracting. By the time the strange sensation had spread up past his knees, the spelling game had lost all his attention. His mind was fixed on the spreading tingle that was rapidly progressing up his body. It was not long before it felt like every part of him was experiencing micro-vibrations which, try as he may, he had no ability to quell.
Ian felt as though his whole body was swelling up like a balloon being filled with air. “No,” he thought. “It’s not air. It’s helium.” He made this deduction when he realized he had floated up from his mattress, slowly rising into the air. A few feet above the bed, the last of his blankets slid off of him and fell to the ground, fully revealing, for the first time, his now bulbous torso and limbs. He moved slowly and steadily toward the ceiling, bracing himself for impact.
As he drew closer, the roof of the small farmhouse peeled open like a banana, creating a port for Ian to pass through. As he continued to rise, he felt the bite of the cold winter air on his skin. Snow swirled around him, hiding everything from sight aside from the roof immediately below. A column of blue light, no more than ten feet in diameter, flooded down on him from some unknown source above. A moment later, the farmhouse had fallen out of view and floated up through the disorienting swirl of snow.
The surrounding air grew white as he passed through a cloud, brightly illuminated by the blue light. The white was quickly replaced by black as he rose above the cloud and into the sky above. His body had swollen so much he could feel the seams of his pajamas straining to keep him contained. His speed increased as he moved toward the circular shadow that had appeared at the center of the blue light. As it drew near, the circle came into focus. It was grey, metal, and approaching fast. He once again prepared for impact.
When Ian woke up, he found himself in a strange room with oddly shaped architecture, eerie glowing lights, and a distinctly sterile feeling. He was lying on a small, raised bed covered in a white linen cloth.
“My parents must have brought me to the hospital while I was sleeping,” he reasoned. “A very strange-looking hospital.” Despite the bizarre surroundings, Ian was relieved that his body had shrunk to normal size and he was no longer floating up into space. “What a weird dream that was!”
He heard a soft noise that sounded like pressurized air being released, followed by a pair of footsteps approaching. He tried to sit up to see who had entered the room, but there were belts around his chest and wrists, holding him in place. Before he could struggle against the restraints, there was a mechanical sound from somewhere underneath, and the top half of the bed began tilting upward, raising him into a sitting position.
Two figures stood in front of a large doorway. Their slender bodies and elongated heads were covered by greenish grey skin that shimmered faintly when the light caught it in just the right way. They had no visible hair and their eyes were tear-drop shaped pools of blackness that seemed to swirl if he looked directly into them for too long. Although he had heard footsteps, it appeared to Ian as if the creatures had no arms or legs and were merely floating in midair as they cautiously moved toward him. Nearing the bed, one of the creatures turned slightly sideways, revealing that its limbs did exist. They were just razor thin when viewed directly.
The two creatures took their positions, one on either side of the bed. They towered over him, leaning down a little, and stretched out their slender arms. Ian shifted uncomfortably, as much as his restraints would allow, as the creatures’ hands, their three fingers even more thin than their arms, poked and measured his body. They chattered to each other in a language he could not understand. Their tone was calm, not angry or hostile. If anything, it carried a ring of curiosity. The creatures continued their examination for several minutes. One of them became enthralled with Ian’s arm. It removed the belt holding and lifted, bent, and twisted the arm in every direction.
When the examination was done, the two creatures moved behind the bed and continued their conversation. Ian could not see them where they were standing. He hoped that meant they could not see him, either. The creature had left his one arm unrestrained. He slowly slid his hand up onto his chest and worked the belt buckle as quietly as he could. He paused to take a deep breath hoping it might still his trembling hand. With a little more work, the pin popped loose, and he was able to unthread the strap. Ian glanced down at his other wrist. Reaching the final restraint would require him to move a lot more, which greatly increased his risk of being spotted. On the other hand, each moment he laid on the bed debating his next move increased the chance that the creatures would complete their discussion and return to his side.
As discretely as he could, Ian rolled slightly, just far enough to reach the final belt. Stifling the grunts and moans his body wanted to make, he released the buckle and rolled back to a laying position. With a deep breath, he summoned all his strength and courage. Pushing hard against the bed with his hands, Ian launched himself forward and off the end of the bed. His feet hit the floor running, and he bolted for the open doorway. He entered a hallway, turned to the left, and sped away as fast as his bare feet on the slick metal floor would allow. He heard the sound of the creatures pursuing behind him, but did not dare look back.
Ian flew around a corner, bouncing off the wall before regaining traction. He only managed a few more steps before processing the reality in front of him. Only a few yards ahead, a panel fell down to block the hallway. There were no other turns or doorways along the corridor. Ian reached the end of the hall and pushed against the panel with all his might, but it would not budge. He turned just in time to see the two creatures come around the corner. His back pushed against the panel as the adrenaline faded and his fear took over.
The creatures stopped and chattered at one another. They both stared at Ian with their dark eyes. One of them gave a slight nod toward him. A transparent panel fell down a few feet in front of Ian, trapping him in a small cubical. The creatures continued to stare. One made a downward motion with his knifelike arm. Ian froze in nervous anticipation.
He felt a small vibration underneath his feet. Then, without warning, the floor opened up underneath him and he fell. He slid down a narrow tube that he might have considered a fantastic ride in some other circumstance, twisting and turning, but always moving downward. Ian looked at his feet and saw the bottom of the tube rapidly approaching. However, just before he reached the floor, it opened in a spiral pattern, revealing nothing but darkness below.
Ian tumbled out into a black nothingness. His body twisted and turned, losing all sense of direction as it fell with ever-increasing speed. He hit what he assumed was the same layer of cloud he had passed through earlier, but without the blue light, it was indistinguishable from the darkness above other than a faint sense of being surrounded by moisture. He broke through the cloud into the frigid air. His skin began shivering in the cold. Snow pelted his face and caught in his hair. He tried desperately to stabilize his body and gain a sense of direction despite the free fall. He caught a momentary glimpse of the farmhouse before tumbling upside down again. On the following revolution he saw the roof only a few feet away. It twisted out of view, and he braced himself for impact. Everything went black.
Ian’s eyes burst open, and he felt his heart pound against the backside of his ribs. The whirling buzz in his mind fought against his attempts to bring the dimly lit room into focus. A bead of sweat trickled across his forehead and down past his ear, drawing his attention to the damp pillow under his head.
A figure stepped forward out of the shadows, face slowly illuminated as she drew closer to the bedside lamp. Ian’s mother sat on the edge of the bed and gently pressed a cold, wet cloth to his forehead. The cooling sensation brought a wave of relief that was quickly swept away by the heat radiating from his skin.
“You’re still burning up,” his mother said. “If this fever doesn’t come down by morning, we will take you to the doctor.”
JANUARY’S WRITING PROMPT
From Ian: When I was about 10 years old I got a bad case of stomach flu. It was winter and we lived in a small town of about 200. My parents drove to the next town about 15 miles away and a terrible blizzard came through and they were storm bound for three days. I had to get out of bed and get coal to feed the Booker stove that kept the house warm. One night I had such a high fever that I started to hallucinate. (I realized that that is what happened when I got older.) Anyway, I was surprised to notice that my body started to swell. It got larger and fatter and I began to float above the bed. I started to float towards the ceiling and I kept swelling until I started to fill the whole roof. I was terrified that I would burst open the house if this continued. I forced my mind to try to control the swelling and it started to work! But as I shrunk and shrunk I started to get thinner and thinner even though I continued to float in the air. I became so thin that I saw that I was becoming a large blade and it was excruciatingly painful...more painful than the pain I experienced while filling the room. At this point I must have passed out because I don't remember anything more until a neighbour knocked on the door waking me up. My parents had phoned long distance to this neighbour and asked him to check up on me.
Ian’s Daughter’s Additional Comment (also incorporated): When I was about 10 years old. I was hallucinating from a high fever. Mom tried to give me a hug and I started yelling at her. I couldn’t handle the patterns on her patchwork housecoat. I also told them to get hide the electric cords. You see I was hallucinating about people with big bloated bodies or skinny as a knife bodies. The worst ones had combos. Bloated bodies and knife thin arms and legs or knife thin body and bloated arms and legs. Later- when I was older, I realized that my dad used to have similar hallucinations about himself.
Leave a comment with your writing prompt suggestion!
When I was about 11 in 1959, my allowance was 10 cents a week. It would buy a 12 ounce bottle of Coke, but you would get back 2 cents on the bottle refund. I lived in a small town where there were a few street lights but none over the path that went over the railroad track on the way to the combination skating/curling rink. In the winter the town side of the path was a gradual slope but on the rink side it was steeper and one had to be careful not to slip.
Every family paid a small fee to all for their children to skate during free skating time between 4 and 5. It was considered mandatory for all the kids to go skating during this time so it was often that a group of us would be slithering down this hill on the way to skate and we often would be joking and jostling each other on the way.
Being a small town far from shopping centers, a lot of the kids did not have proper hockey or skate bags to carry either hockey equipment or even a pair of skates in so a practical alternative was to use a gunny sack that one held a hundred pounds of potatoes. That is what I (and several of my friends) used to carry our skates.
When we got to the rink, we would gather around the large wood filled stove to warm up, take our bulky coats off, find a spot on the bench and put our bag under the long bench that stretched across both sides of the warm-up room and take off our boots and begin to put on our skates.
That is when I discovered that I only had one skate in my bag. When I left home, I remembered that I had put both in, so I immediately assumed that someone had taken my other skate and hid it somewhere. I started to do a thorough search accusing my friends of playing a trick on me. That is when I spied by skate in the bottom of my friend Bobbie's gunny sack. I could see the shine from my skate blade through the mesh of the sack and it matched the length of my skate blade and he already had taken both of his skates out. I demanded that he open his bag and when he refused, that was when I KNEW that my skate was there! So the fight was on! The more he resisted the more that I knew I was right. But I wasn't able to get to his bag by myself so I enlisted the help of another friend, Hughie to fight Bobbie. Finally, Hughie's older brother Brian came to help and while we held Bobbie, he opened his gunny sack and there at the bottom was a shiney bottle of Coke-cola!
My chagrin was almost to the point of being apoplectic! Why was I so silly as to being fooled? Why did he have to be so stubborn in not showing me that it wasn't my skate? Why did I start a fight and falsely accuse my friend who was totally innocent? So after mumbling an apology I continued my search and even checked the side room where the kindling and split wood was stored. I moped around for a while and watched my friends skating for a while before I decided to make my lonely trek home. As I trudged home with my head down on that dark winter night with a quarter moon barely giving enough light to see the path, a small thought crossed my mind.....what if my skate had somehow fallen out of my bag. Was it possible that there was a hole in by gunny sack? I check and there was a small one, but surely my skate couldn't have slipped through it. I started to look at both sides of the path up the steep hill leading to the railroad track and there in the shadows was a dark object. Could it be...? Yes, it was my skate!
When I got home I tested my theory, and sure enough the small hole expanded when I tried to slip my skate through the hole and it mostly closed when the skate was through. But why did Bobbie protest so much when it was just a bottle of Coke? Note to self: "Don't be too quick to accuse!"