Cole Scott Tindle
I wrote this story while sleep deprived during finals week.
I don't really have the motivation to finish this story. So, I aplogize for any errors in the grammar or the story itself.
Maybe it's why I feel comfortable posting this as my first story on here. Maybe I can see myself coming back to this. Who knows.
I can't remember what my end goal was for this story, what the message was. After reading it again, I think it shows.
Though, maybe there is some charm in how aimless this story feels. It's certaintly how I felt writing it :P. Enjoy!
Cole Scott Tindle - 05/03/25
“There are times when nothing makes sense. Truly, it doesn’t make sense. The more I try to understand, the bags under my eyes widen. I wouldn’t have minded if it wasn’t for the fact that it was God that took my vision. Everyday, He gives new eyes to the babies, but He rather took mine. Times like this feel stagnant. There’s a curl in my stomach and it’s tightening. Nothing could possibly make sense when it’s times like this. It feels cruel.”
“But by God did God take my vision. Everything is blurry. Truly, I have to say that it’s blurry. When I step outside, the lack of sleep is more apparent. Those bags under my eyes and how blurry my vision has gotten. Please god, give it back. What shall I do? Give it back and I’ll give you back my undying loyalty. Please god, restore my vision. What have I done? I am plain tired.”
Hello, son.
…
Most days, it’s humid and my sweat stuck to my skin, a kind of sticky syrup that a fly would land in. Out by the sand and shallow grass, a cottonmouth slid against the yellow, black, and grey sand mixture. It left a trail behind, a back-and-forth slither, near the ocean’s foamy waves. It smelt most days and that smell was rank. As for what I know, it has always been rank. It was ranked when I was here, it was rank when my parents were still alive, and it was ranker when that Hurricane took everything, and it was the rankest when my Grandparents tried to build something here. Though, I ignore all that past. If I was to be honest, the smell doesn’t bother me as home is Galveston and by that merit, home is by the beach. Most days, it’s just plain round here. Usually, I would let the rank enter my nose as the humidity landed on my skin. After many years, I learned that I like it that way. Everything else made me tired. It was overwhelming with how quick things progressed. For all I know, Galveston was easier and I want to keep it that way. Shoot, La Kings has been here forever. So if that doesn’t say anything about the strength of man, then I don’t know. Because La Kings is honestly everything. Swear by it. But by God was it easier. Guess I can say that I’m grateful that I can get a soda float at the end of the day.
…
A distinct blend of sea salt and oil hung in the air as the young man drove his rusted Chrysler Newport. He had the top of the car torn off with the help of his mechanic buddy and now drove it with an impulse that led him to be rash. His hair spiked up and dyed black, stood stiff from the hair grease against the wind that blew. In the dash, a cassette played and blasted Bad Brains to purposefully scare off old ladies because he thought it was funny. It worked. Occasionally, an older lady would raise her fist, shaking it at the runt; or they would fall backwards and the runt wouldn’t look back; or most times they shook their head, looking on blankly as the runt drove away.
The wind made his eyes water and sting a bit from the salt, causing his eye shadow to be smeared down his face. It was no different now. There was eye shadow smeared down his face. The sea wall that was just raised a couple inches a few years ago, had the ocean crash against it. Not particularly a beautiful morning, the clouds grew darker and dense, while the waves caught strength and continued to crash against the just raised sea wall. The young man turned his head and looked out at the ocean. Way off shore, he saw an oil refinery that looked miniature and greyed out from the fog that sat above sea. He turned his head forward and reached over to pop out the cassette. When it ejected, the young man didn’t catch it, instead it fell under his feet. Reckless as ever, the young man bent over to grab the cassette, snaking around his legs and feeling the stained floor mat.
During his search for Bad Brains, the Chrysler swerved on its axles and teared towards the curve of the road. The wheel caught in a sewer drain and caused a bounce that sent the young man up from his seat and his long spiky hair caught sun. Soon. He was head first in his windshield and the Chrysler crashed into a light pole. Exhaust smoke flew into the sky and the young man looked around with a blurred haze. It was not sunny. Rather, it was cloudy. Though he knew that; he chose to remember it first.
Son, get back up.
…
Most days, I sat in my rocker and smked crop till my throat turned hoarse and dry. Just how I like it. Hoarse, humid, and rank as it could be. Though today was different as it was not sunny but rather cloudy. The lack of squawks from the seagulls and golden-plover’s would’ve been distressing but I remembered my hearing is shot as it could be. So I smoked and I planned to get a soda float later. Root beer float or a Dr. Pepper float? Screw, I’ll just decide when I get to the La Kings. The–the kings? Shouldn’t say The before La Kings. Screw, where’s my pipe?
…
Times like this make no sense, the young man thought. He walked sluggish, making his way down the street and from his abandoned car. Times like this feel stagnant. The disassociation built with steel. He looked back and saw a crowd form around his car and all looked down the street towards the young man with disgust. The disassociation built with steel and he walked further down the street. The young man limped and blood came from my forehead. It dripped and stained my shirt. I loved this shirt. It was a daily rotation shirt that I washed at least every other day just to wear it again. But the blood stained it. Blots of blood around the white shirt. Some of the blood trailed, leaving a streak of red down the white. I loved this shirt.
A man stopped me and asked if the young man was alright.
“I don’t think so,” Young man responded.
The Galveston air with salt to touch your skin. All around, the clouds blocked the sun and it seemed everything was a haze. To him the clouds were the darkest. They blocked all.
The man said he thinks I need to get to a hospital.
“Oh, I’m all good,” Young man responded.
The man said that he is calling an ambulance.
“I promise, I’m all good,” Young man responded.
Though, the young man did say something unusual, “I see visions sometimes.”
Visions? The man said.
“Yeah visions,” Young man responded, “like at the end.”
Satan’s child, you are, he said.
“I am not. I am God’s child.”
You are not, he said. What visions do you see? He asked.
“I see where there are more bones that cover the land than grass. Tanned white grounds from the bones is all I can see. I see killing machines that roll over the bones and crunch under its tires. The bones were packed and dense and exploded from the weight. I see the sky red, but more so cut open. Like god himself opened a hole in the sky and from it, is a dark blue light. A blue light that hit the earth and fought its green till it shriveled and died. And soon did the people. Killing machines and plague swept quickly over the earth. Killing machines killed those not taken by plague and it’s also the other way around. God gives me these visions. I don’t particularly know why. But they are there. Do I warn? I don’t know. Who even cares.”
Satan’s child, you are, he said.
And the young man walked on.
That was best, son.
…
Salt hung in the air as I walked to La Kings. I stuck my tongue out to taste then swallowed air. It tasted like salt. How I knew it would. The La Kings. Scratch. La Kings was only a couple blocks away. Red bricked buildings watched me wobble towards an ice cream float. I still hadn’t decided which. A third option came into the fold. Dr. Pepper, root beer, or an orange soda float? I’ve never had an orange soda float before. I could try something new, but it does not sound too appealing to me. I think I am still favoring a Dr. Pepper or root beer float. I will decide once I get there. Where is my pipe? I think I left it.
…
The crowd erupted when the young man walked into the backyard. From his car, he dragged his feet to his job. They must’ve thought the blood from his forehead was a part of the plot, but rather he needed help. The low income crowd chanted, “Rhodes,” and pushed him further into the ring. Surrounded by hands, the crowd caved around him and reached to touch his skin. He stood in the middle of it all; the crowd amazed by their hero.
They chanted:
Rhodes.
Rhodes.
Rhodes.
Stance like a tall hunched over bull dog, Rhodes opponent, Mad Cow Austin, eyed him from the ring. Like a ball of rage, Mad Cow Austin picked up a mic from the ring and spoke with his lips pressed up against it. He nearly made the cheap bluetooth speakers explode that sat around the poorly cut and trimmed backyard. “Zachary Rhodes, I need you in this ring! Because it’s time I kick your ass!” Then Mad Cow Austin dropped the mic onto the canvas and it bounced a couple times.
The crowd forced him closer to the ring.
A woman screamed, “Get in there Rhodes!”
Another voice yelled, “Kick his ass!”
One voice was opposite, “Mad Cow is going to meat grind you!”
One to go with the motions, the young man is pushed towards the ring. Once at the ropes, he entered through the second, before he tripped onto the mat and landed on his face. Mad Dog Austin wasn’t one to wait and picked the young man up by his spiky hair. It’s all part of the act, but the young man’s vision was blurry. Don’t forget that. God did that.
The young man stood while Mad Dog Austin pulled him up by his hair and the young man pressed up against him. Like pebbles being holstered by a freak, Mad Dog Austin lifted him up and onto his shoulders. The crowd erupted at the sight. The drunk yelled, the high shrunk, and the crossed stared past. When the young man was thrown, he had caught a bit of air time. He floated.
When he came back down and slammed onto the stained mat from sweat and blood, he landed awkward on his neck. The young man was killed, bent with his legs hung over his head. Praying mantis.
My son, that ain’t all.
The young man gasped life then screamed life.
After the crowd started to scream–not from excitement but terror–the young man was carried into an ambulance. The crowd looked on as the sirens grew further from them. It was Mad Cow Austin that looked the most worried. During it all, he cried and tried to convince people that it wasn’t him. People tried to calm him down, but he still dragged on.
Mad Cow Austin spouted:
He normally doesn’t land like that!
He must’ve greased himself and it’s how I let go!
He is an amateur, not cut for the business!
He is– Dammit! Damn that idiot!
When Mad Cow Austin said that, he remembered looking down at the young man. Bent like a human C with his eyes faded. There was silence as the crowd looked bugged eyed. There was a cough. Then there was more silence. Then the young man breathed and everyone screamed. They tumbled over each other while they fought for the entrance. It became a human dam with fifty people that tried to get out of the backyard. One man even forgot their infant.
…
I tapped on the glass in a rhythmic pattern. From the index to the pinky, I lifted and dropped it onto the glass while I thought about which float. I think I have completely ruled out the orange soda. At least with vanilla ice cream, it doesn’t sound appealing. Well? Actually? Now that I think about it? I have time to think about it.
“Sir?” The ice cream attendant asked me.
I ignored.
Instead, I looked at the different flavors that lined from one end of the bar to the other. A rainbow of cold heaven that made me lick my lips. How good it will feel when I step outside with cold heaven in my hands. Then when I feel hoarse, humid, and smell the rank; I will feel good with cold heaven in my hands.
“Sir?”
“Orange float, please.”
…
While in the back of the ambulance, the EMT turned blurry. Not the young man’s eyes. But, the EMT turned blurry as if he was made of smoke. It was God.
“Why did you take my vision?”
I did not.
“Then why am I blind?”
Because you float above the surface.
“I do not.”
You do.
“You still took my vision. God, you could just give it back if you made a power that took it.”
I did not make it. You float and are rash. You glide and you are stupid. Your life is quick because you float and are never present.
"God, you sure are a bastard."
I apologize.
“Why do you give me visions?”
Visions? I do?
“Yeah, the ones you give. How they revolve around the end of the world. How cruel these visions have been, God. I see screams from the sea. They cross because where else would they scream? Robes of people walked to the bottom of the sea and crossed to me. How long did they walk? I cannot know. Most likely years? However long, their faces were stretched. I looked at their faces, stretched. Stretched from how their foreheads drooped, and their eyes sagged, and their mouths sand, and their chins, gone. How ugly they all were. But at the moment they are beautiful compared to the lands. They were as human as they could be. Because it does look like they try to be human. So, they are beautiful compared to the lands. Tanned white bones covered the green. God, why would you do that? I explained it to a man. You aren’t satan are you, God? He told me I was Satan's child! Can you believe him? Satan’s child! God, are you god? God, you there?”
“God!” The young man shouted.
And the young man was drugged by the EMT after the young man lashed out
…
When I stepped out as I slurped on the orange soda float. An ambulance sped past me. The wind behind the ambulance pushed my fake hair up before I caught it. During the excitement, I didn’t even notice I used both hands to catch my hair. I looked down and my orange soda float was everywhere. Shame. Though, the few sips I got in were pretty good. I’d most likely go for another. Might even add it to the rotation. Dr. Pepper, root beer, and an orange soda float. This doesn’t bother me, because right now, the only thought I had was going back inside and asking for another float, please.