ReadWave: Running Home by Jack Durish

Before I give you Jack's story, I'll try to explain what ReadWave is. ReadWave's statement is "We believe that an amazing story can change your life - and that story can come from anyone - a well-known published author, or an unpublished and unknown writer. We created ReadWave to give all writers a place to share their stories and start building up a passionate readership." So ReadWave is a website where everyone can publish their stories, it's mostly short stories, but once in a while there are some novellas and novels.

Now every week they put one short story in the spotlight and if I like it, I will be posting it right here. I've put up the first part of this week's story and the rest you can read on the ReadWave website.

Running Home

THE BOY SKIPPED along the wooded lane, the dried leaves crunching under his feet, until he spotted the old man up ahead and increased his pace. In moments he caught up, took the old man's hand, and looked up with a smile bursting across his face. The old man stopped and looked down, bewilderment clouding his expression.

“How?” he asked, but the boy's smile was his only reply.

The old man looked around as though lost. He tried to find something familiar in the landscape. The boy waited patiently at his side. Once again, he met the boy's eyes and asked, “Where?”

The boy tipped his head to one side, his smile dissolving into a mask of concern. He raised his hand and pointed in the direction from which he had come. “There,” he said.

The old man peered back along the path the boy had run to catch up with him. It was the same one he had been walking, but he didn't recognize it. Again, he looked down at the boy and asked, “Why?”

The boy shrugged with one shoulder. His other was busy, locked to the arm and hand that joined him to the old man. “They're waiting for us,” he responded.

Straining his vision in the direction the boy had previously pointed to, the old man saw shapes that might have been people milling in a crowd. A few hands seemed to rise above the others and beckon to him. “When?” he asked.

The boy's smile spread across his face anew. “Now,” he said, “it's time.”

About Jack Durish

Jack was born in Baltimore, Maryland in 1943. Growing up on the Chesapeake Bay exposed him to great storytellers and provided him with a warehouse of adventures to inspire his own stories. A soldier, a sailor, a husband, father, and grandfather, Jack now spins his tales in Southern California.
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