 | Daisies in the Sun Richard Duncan was having the worst day of his life. But sometimes a little faith is all it takes to change one’s destiny. |
| Contest: | Flash Fiction Challenge 2017 |
| Round: | 3 |
| Genre: | Fantasy |
| Location: | A hospital waiting room |
| Object: | A broom |
| Results: | Honorable Mention |
“Can you lift your feet for me, sweetie?” Broom poised and ready, the cleaning lady gazed steadily at Richard, eyebrows arched, waiting expectantly. Richard glanced around the hospital waiting room, noting with annoyance at least a dozen empty chairs she could have swept under.
He started to protest, “Couldn’t you—”
“It’ll only take a second. Thanks so much.”
With a defeated sigh, Richard complied. The woman hummed a pleasant melody as she worked, wielding her broom like an expert swordsman. Quite an unusual broom it was, too, with pristine white bristles and a candy-striped handle. A name tag pinned to her blue uniform read “Mrs. Wimbly”. As she reached to sweep the far corner, her arm brushed Richard’s. A strong jolt of static electricity made Richard jump involuntarily.
“Sorry about that,” she said, chuckling. “Lots of magic juice in the floors around here, ya know.”
“It’s okay, I— Sorry, did you say ‘magic juice’?” Richard lowered his feet as the lady withdrew her broom.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “It’s all around. Most folks don’t pay it much mind, but every so often…” She trailed off mysteriously. “You must’ve really needed a dose, sweetie. That was quite a jolt.”
Richard nodded slowly, annoyance turning to bemusement. “So what does this ’magic juice’ do, exactly?”
She leaned in close, whispering emphatically, “Miracles, Mr. Duncan. Miracles.”
Richard scoffed. “Really, I don’t— Wait, how did you know my name?”
“My dear, I know more than you think,” she answered with a wink. Resting her broom against a chair, she sat down next to him, like a mother sitting with her child. “You don’t believe in miracles, do you, Mr. Duncan?”
“No,” he answered quickly. “I do not.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Tell me something. What do you dream about?”
“What? Look, it’s been a really bad day…”
“Your dreams, your fantasies. What do you want, more than anything else in the whole universe?”
“I…I don’t have any dreams,” he said defensively.
“Oh, don’t try to fool me, Mr. Duncan. Everybody has dreams. Tell me.”
“I don’t…this is silly. I—”
“There’s nothing silly about it,” she scolded. “Ain’t nothin’ more powerful than your greatest wish.” She gazed deep into his eyes. “I know you have one, Mr. Duncan. But you’re afraid to let it live.”
Richard broke her gaze and looked down.
Mrs. Wimbly took his hand. “Close your eyes, dear.” He hesitated, but did as she asked. “Now, try to relax. Don’t chase it, let it come. Think of the one thing, in all the universe, you want more than anything. No limits, no boundaries. Your wildest, most impossible dream…”
Richard tried. He knew what he wanted was impossible, and that made dreaming about it almost unbearable. “I can’t do this…”
“Yes, you can! Dreams are like daisies. They just need a little light to bloom. Dream, Mr. Duncan! Dream!”
And he did. For a single moment, Richard Duncan let his greatest dream live in his mind, heart, and soul. Pure emotion surged from a forgotten spring, bubbling to the surface. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come…
- - -
“Mr. Duncan?” The voice didn’t belong to Mrs. Wimbly. Startled, Richard opened his eyes to find a youngish man in pale green scrubs peering at him with a concerned look.
“Who are you?” said Richard.
“Jenkins, sir. I’m sorry to wake you, but your son is out of surgery. The doctor would like to speak with you before you go in. Would you please come with me?”
“Where’s Mrs. Wimbly?”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“The cleaning lady. She was just here…”
“Nobody was here but you, Mr. Duncan. I’m sorry, but the doctor is waiting…”
- - -
As Richard approached his son’s room, he found Doctor Bains waiting outside the door.
“Doctor…how’s my son? Did he…”
“Your son is fine, Mr. Duncan. The operation went well, no complications.”
“That…that’s great. Thank God. So he…he’s not in any danger?”
The doctor smiled reassuringly, “None at all. It’s a fairly routine procedure. Your son—”
“Wait,” interrupted Richard. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘routine’? What about his legs? Were you able to save his legs?”
The doctor frowned. “Mr. Duncan, I’m so sorry, but I have no idea what you mean…”
Richard’s face flushed. “His legs! They were crushed in the accident. He had massive internal injuries. They said he might not make it. What the hell is ‘routine’ about that?!”
Frowning, the doctor shuffled through his papers. “I’m sorry, there must be a dreadful mistake. Your son’s name is…”
“Eric! Eric Duncan!”
An uncomfortable silence lingered while the doctor double-checked his file. Shaking his head, he said, “Mr. Duncan…your son was brought in for acute appendicitis. He had an appendectomy. Otherwise, he’s in very good health.”
“What..what the hell is going on here!? My son was hit by a drunk driver! He nearly died, and all you did was take out his appendix?”
Doctor Bains stared helplessly at Richard, dumbfounded. “Sir, we haven’t had any accident victims in the last twenty-four hours…”
Richard shoved the doctor aside and barged into the room. There rested his son, Eric, lying peacefully in the hospital bed. He appeared perfectly healthy. Richard gasped in an outpouring of shock and relief. Moving slowly to the bedside, he placed a trembling hand on his son’s head. Eric stirred, the fog of anesthesia still heavy in his eyes.
“Dad?”
“I’m…I’m here, son.”
“Why are you crying?”
“I…it’s nothing. I guess I just had a really bad dream. Everything’s okay, now.”
“Oh,” said Eric. “I’m hungry. Can we go home soon?”
Richard laughed through his tears. “Soon, Eric. Real soon.” He took Eric’s hand. “I love you, son.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
Richard’s mind raced to make sense of things. How could he have gotten so terribly confused? But none of that mattered, now.
“Dad?”
“Yes, son.”
“What’s that funny-looking broom doing in here?”