As he slowly sat up, Dick thought, “Ugh. Now for the great adventure.” He slid from where he was sitting and put his feet on the floor. He grunted lowly as the sudden cold crept up his leg.
He glanced quickly about to see if anyone had heard him. When he heard no sound, he continued with his movements. His eyes couldn’t pierce the darkness that hid the dangers of his journey ahead. As he moved forward, he instinctively put his hands out before him.
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, something attacked him. It was about knee-high and it hurt terribly. Quickly, he put his hand to his mouth to muffle his cry of pain. He stepped backward, then went around the area of the thing.
Then he panicked. He couldn’t find the place he wanted!
“No,” he thought to himself. “It’s not here. It is just to my right.” Then he turned himself in that direction.
“Ah!” Dick said under his breath as his hands touched a hard substance. “I’ve found it!”
Moving slowly forward, he slid his foot out. Then putting his weight on that foot he slid the other forward.
It shot out into nothingness. Then he put it down on the lower floor. He did this ten times. Then he sighed with relief.
“I did it.”
“Now, forward again,” he thought. He moved slowly and deliberately so he wouldn’t trip.
Then, when he least expected it, he walked smack into a wall.
“Oh, that smarts,” he groaned to himself. “But I haven’t far to go now.”
Easing himself around the corner, his hand touched a cold, flat surface. “Good. I’ve made it,” he sighed.
Walking into the room, with his hand still on the cold surface, he came to a door.
“Goody, goody, goody!” he said. “Now.”
With this, he opened the door. The little light went on like it always did. Then he groaned. There was a note.
Dick, I would advise you to return to your bed. If you have a midnight snack, you will find that you’ll be short some money at allowance time. Dad
“Some nights I just can’t win,” he mumbled as he headed for the stairs.
(This story was written for a short story “unit” in my 9th grade English class, when I was 14. The teacher called it “clever.” When my fellow students read it, I got a satisfying variety of reactions: “I thought he was blind,” said one. “I thought it was a spy story,” said another. These reactions made me gleeful. The assignment gave me my first taste of a storyteller’s delight in shaping the reactions of an audience. I was hooked on writing.)
