By John McPhee

PING.

That sound almost woke Thomas up. Then there was another.

PING.

Thomas stirred.

PING.

The third one did wake him up, confused.

“I know that sound, but that can’t be, can it?” The 12-year-old boy asked himself.

PING.

There it was again. It seemed to be coming from the other side of the door to his room.

PING.

Thomas sat up. He was excited.

“That’s the sound of a baseball bat hitting the ball!” He announced.

He made his way to the door and waited.

PING.

“How can that sound be coming from the other side of this door?” Thomas asked himself. “That’s impossible!”

PING.

He opened the door and to his disbelief saw a baseball team – HIS baseball team shagging flies on a baseball field. The grass was greener than Thomas had ever seen. The sun felt warm and the sky was blue. Everyone was having fun.

PING.

Coach Jackson hit another to left field. Thomas loved that sound the aluminum bat makes when it connects with the ball.

He ran back to his bed and grabbed his baseball glove and pounded his fist into its pocket.

Thomas loved baseball. He loved it more than any other sport. While most of his friends dreamed of playing hockey for the Toronto Maple Leafs, Thomas had his sights set on playing for the Blue Jays.

He didn’t even bother to change out of his pajamas as he ran back to the door and stepped out. But, as he did, the baseball diamond also took a step back from him. He took another step and again, everything moved back.

“What’s going on?” He asked aloud.

Then Thomas remembered.

“It’s not summer, it’s January!”

He stared at the ball diamond. He could smell the grass. He heard that sound again.

PING.

He saw the white chalk lines running from home plate to the left and right fields. The chalk was so bright. It was so white. It looked like freshly fallen snow shimmering under a sunny sky.

Bright snow, shiny ice.

“NOOOO!” Thomas yelled, as he remembered the car his dad was driving spinning out of control.

“DAAAAAD!” He screamed, trying to deafen the sound of the impending crash.

PING.

PING.

PING.

“Tommy, wake up.” His mom gave him a little nudge. “Tommy, wake up dear.”

Thomas slowly opened his eyes. His mother was leaning over his hospital bed. She was crying, but she was smiling too.

“Tommy, I just spoke to the doctor. The operation was a success. You’re going to walk again.”

He turned his head and saw the machines that were monitoring his status. They made that familiar sound.

PING.

PING.

PING.

“Tommy,” his mother cried. “Everything will be OK. Your father is fine and Tommy, you WILL play baseball again.”

Thomas closed his eyes and smiled. He drifted back to sleep dreaming of hitting home runs for his favourite team.

PING.

PING.

PING. RR

Great use of sound to propel the story forward, like a consistent percussion beat weaving perception with reality. This story is well crafted, seamlessly intersecting several scenes in a short time including the range of emotions from exhilaration to tragedy and back.