A Glow in the Dark

Night Shift Storytime

Given: "glow in the dark" (phrase/object) by Justin Cloyd

The snow was falling heavier than usual. It fell everyday this high up on the slopes of the mountain, but tonight, a storm was brewing. The wind began to whistle and rise in ferocity. Snow was billowing back and forth, covering the face of a young man trudging upward. He was bundled up heavily from head to toe and was carrying a large pack on his back.

"Pete!" called a voice from behind. He stopped and turned around.

"Eddie! Are you alright?" he called.

"My foot's caught!"

The storm was making it difficult to see and move, but Pete slowly made his way back towards his companion. It was quite the chore, as the wind had been to his back on the way up. After what seemed to be an eternity to the poor fellow with his foot caught, Pete finally reached him.

"I told you to say behind, Eddie. Over and over again, I told you."

"I know, I know. Just get me unstuck."

Pete bent down and removed the fresh powder from Eddie's boot. There were two large rocks with a small crevice between them that the foot of a man should not be able to fit through, yet, Eddie's managed to wedge itself in.

"How did you do this?" Pete called out.

"I don't know. Just help me out of it, will ya?"

"Be patient. This won't be easy. Can you feel your toes?"

"I can't feel anything in this cold."

"Ok. Hold on."

Pete reached back in his pack and pulled out a large old trowel. Getting on his hands and knees, he cleared more snow from around the rocks and found the edges. He tried to dig into the ground, but the frozen earth would not give. After a few more failed attempts, he resorted to pushing, pulling, and kicking, but the rocks also wouldn't budge. Not even the boot would show signs of movement, as Pete had attempted to wiggle it out.

As minutes passed, the storm grew more fierce, as if the mountain itself developed a dark determination  to expel or bury its invaders. Night was also approaching, making the atmosphere even darker and colder amidst the treacherous wind chill. Pete was beginning to lose hope in removing the boot from its prison; he was also losing his own ability to physically feel anything. 

"You're not going to like this," Pete said, "but we need to try to pull out your foot and leave the boot behind. It's either that, or we freeze out here."

Eddie was getting cold to the point where he could hardly speak, but slowly nodded. This was his first time up in the mountains. Pete untied the boot and carefully put both hands around the calf of the  wedged foot. Gently pulling, the foot slowly came out. It was surprisingly easy, as the foot itself was also covered in layers. Regardless, he knew that they needed heat quick. He looked over and noticed Eddie's face starting to turn blue.

"Ok, you need to trust me now. I've been here before and there are some caves scattered around here. Do you think you can walk?"

Eddie could barely make a sound.

"Hold on, bud," said Pete, "We'll get out of this. Here."

He took off his scarf and wrapped it around the mouth and nose of his companion. The icy wind bit his neck. Pete then lifted Eddie into his arms and proceeded forward. Luckily, the wind had mostly returned to his backside, providing some relief to their faces, along with a slight speed boost. The storm was also letting up just enough to allow Pete a little more visibility in the failing light. This did not last long though and the blowing snow increased again, reducing his vision. However, in those moments of relief, he saw in the short distance a dark shape, like a darker spot in the grey air.

"That's a cave opening," he thought. With the strength he had left, he journeyed forward without stopping towards the supposed opening. It was farther than it had initially seemed, but he finally made it, and entered the cave, for indeed it was, still carrying Eddie in his arms. After walking a short distance into the cave and away from the storm, he carefully set Eddie on the hard ground and let out a heavy sigh of relief. The cave was pitch black, but the relief from the storm was so overwhelming that Pete nearly collapsed in a comforted weariness. He quickly snapped out of it.

"I need to start a fire," he said to himself. Pete set down his pack and began to blindly rummage through what he had. Fortunately, there was enough experience in him to plan ahead for fire-less scenarios. He pulled out what he had for fire making, and in a manner of minutes, a small fire was going steady. Small though it was, Pete's spirits rose as the minuscule rays of light bounced off the icy rock walls of their shelter. He checked on Eddie, whose skin color had started slowly returning to normal. It also appeared that he had drifted off to sleep. Pete sat down next to him and thought of home. A warm fire in the fireplace; an apple pie in the oven; mother sewing in her rocking chair; father in the study, smoking his pipe - this was the first time he had been homesick in years.

"Tomorrow, we'll head for home," he spoke softly. He then took out a couple of small blankets wrapped in his pack. He unwrapped one and placed it on Eddie, but left the other unwrapped as he laid his head down on it. Pete rolled over and looked at the sleeping body next to him. "Good night, brother," he said, and closed his eyes.

Meanwhile, further down in the dark tunnel of the cave, two large eyes opened. The looked this way and that. A large mass stirred. It was awake, and it was hungry. Its attention was caught by something in the distance. There was a glow in the dark.

Night Shift Storytime

As you may or may not know, I am currently working a night shift custodial position at Bowling Green State University. For one who appreciates daylight, it has been somewhat of a struggle getting used to becoming a full-time night-dweller. It's always dark, there's nobody around, and the only sounds I hear come from the hum of heating units and vending machines (that is, if I'm not listening to music). One of the things that is helping me through all of this is my appreciation for silence. I'm usually ok with turning off my iPod and simply working in the quiet of the shift. I may be thinking about a variety of different things that I need to do the next day (or afternoon, as I sleep through the morning after the shift), or how efficiently I'm working that night (it varies), or I may not be thinking about anything at all - just listening.

One of the things I've wanted to develop since graduating from Spring Arbor last May is my relationship with writing. Unfortunately, not until very recently, I have not written anything since creating my monologue in April, which was used in my senior recital. I miss it. I never thought I would have ever said anything like that a few years ago. I miss creating stories and sharing them.

While working this past week, I had an idea, which I shared with Caris (my soon-to-be wife, as you may or may not know). I asked her to give me a small piece of information in which I could create a story out of. It had to follow one of these criteria: it had to be a title, or a character name, or an opening line. She gladly did so, and during the last couple days of work, I have used my designated break times to write a short story using the tiny bit that she gave me (she actually gave me more than I asked for, but oh well). It's not very long, but here's what I came up with:

Given: "The Clock" (title), and "O'Ryan" (character)

The Clock

"O'Ryan, Benjamin. Age 27. Reported to be seen at the incident. You're on the clock, sir."

There was silence in the room.

"Am I supposed to say something?" asked O'Ryan, rather sheepishly.

"Just tell me about the incident."

"The whole thing?"

"The whole thing."

"And I'm being timed?"

"Pardon?"

"You said that I'm on the clock."

"Yes."

"Is this being recorded for quality purposes?"

"Archives. Now, from the beginning if you please."

"Well, that could be anywhere. It's quite a long story."

"From the beginning of the incident."

"Oh, ok. Now you're making more sense. From the beginning..."

O'Ryan sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. After a minute or two, he noticed a rip in the leather on the arm of his chair. It wasn't a large rip by any means, but large enough to reveal the chair's inner material. He wondered how old the chair was. He didn't see any other rips or holes,  but the leather seemed quite worn. 

This chair business soon became boring, and O'Ryan closed his eyes. He thought of the sunshine and began wishing for it over the dimly lit, musty smelling room that he was in.

"Mr. O'Ryan, remember that you're on the clock."

"So I am being timed!" exclaimed O'Ryan.

"No, it's just -"

"Just what?" he interrupted.

"Why are you so concerned about the clock?"

"No, why are YOU so concerned about the clock?"

"Mr. O'Ryan, clock or no clock, we are here to discuss what you can recall about yesterday's incident. And we are not leaving until you tell me what you know."

O'Ryan leaned over and stared at his interrogator.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"What?"

"I don't think I'm the one on the clock here."

"Excuse me?"

"You know what? I'm not gonna tell you anything." 

And with that, O'Ryan reclined in his chair, put his hands up behind his head, threw his feet up on the table in front of him, and closed his eyes.

"Nothing?" asked his interrogator.

"Nothing."

"Alright. I think I'll just punch out then."

The interrogator stood and put on his jacket, which has hanging on the back of his seat. He checked his watch and turned toward the door. Without saying a word, he opened it, turned out the lights, closed the door behind him, and locked it.

The End

One of the ideas that I shared with Caris is how I wanted to open this up to anybody who would want to contribute. I have this vision of working the night shift and constantly developing and sharing stories, one after another, all based off of tiny morsels of the creativity of others. And I am inviting you to take part in it.

Come up with something. Anything. Whatever comes into your head. Be creative. Have fun coming up with this small bit of information. You can choose from one of these criteria:

• A title for the story
• The name of a character in the story
• The opening line of the story
• An object that is used or may have significance in the story

When you come up with something, let me know (by commenting below or by some other means) and I'll add it to my list of story ideas (start with one idea at a time). I'll write one story at a time (first come, first serve), and post it when it is completed. At a minimum, I'll be posting one story a week. The stories could cover any genre, and could be about anything. It just depends on how your idea strikes my brain. Some will be better than others, but I hope to just keep writing. If you see your idea posted as a story, send me another idea. 

This is all an attempt to bolster creativity and the sharing of it, so I would love for you to be involved in it. This may be a long shot, but hopefully, you'll take part in it.

"I finally got some sense knocked into me, and I've got the bump to prove it."

As human beings gifted with so much that God has given us, we have a nasty tendency to take things for granted.  One of those things is friendship.  We grow accustomed to seeing certain people on a day-to-day basis that we lose focus of just how precious those friendships are.  Sometimes it takes tough moments to make us really open our eyes.

In over a month, some of the greatest friends that I have ever had will be graduating.  The thought has crossed my mind many times over the course of the year; but only just recently, I was hit by the realization that it is no longer a 'far away' thing.  As I was hit with this thought, I felt afraid: fear that I may rarely get to see them after they graduate; fear that their departure will be more than I can handle; and fear that I will be forced to grow up.

I guess that is the price when you have close friends who are older than you.  Especially when one is so close that you can almost call her your sister; when one is your girlfriend, with whom you're growing closer to every day; and when one is your brother, whom you have been very close to for as long as you can remember.  It will not be easy.  But it will be good.  For growth to occur, things need to change and events need to happen.  However, I won't be alone, which was another realization that hit me at the same time.  In my second family here at school, only a few of them are leaving.

Trying to place my exact thoughts on this matter is not very easy.  I just have a deep feeling that this May could be one of the toughest months that I will have to face.  However, there are a few things I do know: I will not be alone, I will face a challenge that will make me stronger and more 'grown up,' and just only 'barely' seeing them is definitely out of the question.  I want them to be a major part of my life for, well, eternity.

A Slightly Bigger Adventure...

I love adventures and detours, most times......

Sunday evening, my older brother Justin, his girlfriend Kristen, and I were heading back to school after spending a great weekend at home.

As we were leaving the thriving metropolis of Kingston, Michigan, we drove by a cemetery where one of Justin's high school classmates is buried.  She was killed in a car accident a few years before.  Justin then told us the story of how he had a dream of that exact same thing happening to the very person it happened to just a couple weeks before the accident occurred.  It mentally jarred me for the next few minutes, until I received a text message that jarred me even more.

One of my close friends from high school, who is currently in Guatemala, received word that her uncle had just passed away.  I read the message a few more times to make sure I was reading it correctly before reading aloud to my brother, who then told me to relay the message to my parents.  For the next little while, I tried getting more information for my parents and brother and for my own mental comfort.  The night didn't stop there.

About 15 minutes after receiving the news, I was comfortable enough to begin drifting off to sleep, when a giant thud shook the car.  Now all three of us in the car were freaking out.  I didn't see it, but a large doe literally ran itself into the driver's side of the car.  Justin pulled over in a nearby driveway to examine the extent of the damage.  Compared to most deer accidents, the damage was not that bad: there was a dent that spread from the front tire to the middle of the driver's side door, and the door was not as cooperative when it came to opening.  However, the car was still legally drivable, nothing was missing, there was no shattered or broken glass, and no one was hurt.  After some time of cooling off, in a figurative and literal sense, we proceeded to get a police report, and then to finish our trip back to school.  I was on edge for the next half hour, but calmed down enough to enjoy the rest of the ride.

No one was hurt, and it's something that we can look back on and kinda laugh a little, but it was enough to make me think about what I truly value.

God certainly has His ways of kicking us in the pants...  

A Little Adventure

One very effective method that I use to remember something is to simply do it and get it done on the spot.  I received an e-mail from my art professor for the class I took in January about getting my drawing pad back (he took them at the end of the semester for grading purposes).  So, instead of putting on a to-do list, I got up and walked across campus to the art building to get it.  I remembered from the e-mail that the box with the drawing pads was by a coat rack, which confused me because when I walked in the main door, I did not see a coat rack, or a box of drawing pads for that matter.  Isn't the main door usually where coat racks go?  I went back outside and looked through the other entrance, but still no coat rack.  I stood outside for a few moments and tried to remember exactly what was said in the e-mail, but had no luck.  There was more to it than just the coat rack bit.

I was determined to get my drawing pad, but I wasn't prepared to walk all the way across campus back to my room to re-check the e-mail.  So, I made my way towards the library.  I figured I could simply slip in front of a Mac, check my e-mail again, and receive the rest of the information.

I walked in and found a vacant Mac (I didn't want to use a PC because they can be rather slow on getting started, and I was much too impatient to wait for that).  As I was about to log in, I looked up and was surprised to see a good friend of mine working on the computer right in front of the one I was about to use.  She was clearly zoned into what she was doing, but I pulled her out of it with a simple, "Hey Mel!" Mel and I had recently finished acting in a show together, which was such a blast, but I haven't interacted with most of the people from the cast very much since the show's conclusion.  We were friends beforehand, but the show served as a catalyst to solidify a great friendship; one that anyone in their right minds wouldn't dream of losing.

She looked up from her work and gave a little gasp of surprise.  We hugged and talked a little bit about how we were doing since the show got over with.  Then I remembered that Mel is an art major and she might know details about the art building that would help me retrieve my drawing pad!  I read the original e-mail to her and she was able to give me directions to where I needed to go (the coat rack is in a hallway in the middle of the building...).  So I said thanks, hugged her again, told her how much I missed our interactions and left to complete my original mission.  I re-entered the art building and followed her directions, which led me right to the coat rack, with the box of drawing pads right next to it.

The best part of this story was not me finding my drawing pad.  It was the fact that an adventure was created out of a simple notion to get something out of the way.  There was nothing routine about it.  And I was able to see a friend who I've grown closer to and, oh my, happened to know exactly what I needed to do to accomplish my simple goal of retrieval.

I believe that God loves to use the little moments to get a message across.  Who knows what that message was at the time, but I was reminded of how blessed I truly am.  :)

"To Be Called Home"

This story is probably one of the most spiritually influential stories of my life. So I figured it would be appropriate for the first one I tell. 

It was about 11:30, and I had just texted my close friends that it looked like my grandpa was going to make it through the night. I, along with my brother Justin, had left camp only hours before. We arrived at the nursing home sometime after 8, and at that time, the room was filled with family and friends. Grandpa was lying on his bed with an oxygen mask to his face. Next to him was my grandma, and on the other side of him, my mother. My mom had spent years doing everything she could to take care of her parents. Now it seemed that it all was boiling down to this night.

As time progressed, a sense of comfort fell over the room, and people slowly began to head home for the night. By 11:00, everyone had gone aside from Justin, my parents, and me. My grandpa was resting and we began to discuss about heading home, getting some rest ourselves, and coming back in the morning. It was at that time when I sat down and sent an update to my friends.

However, shortly after I sent the update, something went wrong. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but my grandpa’s breathing had changed. It was a little after midnight and the nurse came back to check him. She looked up and told my mother to call the family, because his breathing would not sustain him much longer.

The only thing that I can recall with detail was the wave of emotions that hit next. Take extreme sorrow and grief and mix it with a sense of joy. For the past five years, I had been prepared for this. But at this moment, was I truly ready? Not only was everything boiling down for my mother, but for me as well. At around 12:30, his breathing became really slow to the point where it was about to give out.

All I could do was watch, cry, and pray. As time was winding down, I found myself quietly praying through my tears, “Go home, grandpa. Just go home.” Then something happened, something that everyone in the room noticed. His eyes became like they were glazed and wide open, and his head tilted upward. At that moment, he breathed his last.

I can say, in that place and moment in time, I had just witnessed my grandpa going home to be with his Savior.

It's A Blog!

I've never blogged before. I received the inspiration to start one after reading from a friend's. As I was reading, I recalled to my memory the fact that I love stories. I love reading stories, hearing stories, and telling stories. So, I figured, why not tell some of them on a blog of my own?

I have no idea how this is going to turn out. It may end up falling on its face. But I'm going to try it. It will be a brand new experience for me.

If it turns out the way I want it to, the blog will be filled with stories; stories that I heard or read, stories from my own life and experiences, or stories that I make up to get a point across.

So here goes nothing! :)