A long, steep slope flattens out into a broad shelf of newly fallen snow before tumbling into a deep ditch beside a road. The snow calls to a new sled, challenging it, mocking the bright red paint, daring it to experience the thrill.
When young Joseph declines the challenge, his dad plops him on the sled and climbs on behind.
“I’ll go with you. We’ll be okay.”
Not until they hit the shelf at great speed does he realize they’re not going to stop. He throws his feet out, digging the heels of his boots into the snow, spewing a white, icy mass into his face.
“Joe, I can’t see! Jump!”
The boy doesn’t respond.
His arms, driven by instinct, seize the boy and throw him from the sled.
As young Joseph disappears into the stormy blanket of snow, his dad feels a brief second of celestial freedom. Then, the sled slams into the far side of the ditch, and he hears a pop as pain slices up his back like cracks across the surface of a frozen pond.
He can’t move — can’t think.
“Joe?” he gasps, his senses still subservient to the thick, knotted bands of muscle throbbing in his back.
Then the dad hears his little boy laughing. “Let’s do it again.”
Resha Caner has dreamed many dreams, but found trying to pursue them all a bit counterproductive–and very expensive. On the positive side, dreams have given him an infinite amount of story material. Some of this has recently been shared at “Sage of Consciousness”, “Planet Mag”, “SNReview” and “Bewildering Stories”.