Blind Sight by Alan Peterson

Author:Alan Peterson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-6624-1361-2
Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc
Published: 2021-03-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Doc Martin

Not liking to jog on a full stomach, I settled for orange juice and coffee. It was a no-brainer this morning; my stomach was feeling queasy. Putting on jogging clothes and shoes, I settled into my big La-Z-Boy recliner with my coffee.

Opening my laptop, bringing up the local weather channel, checking for the change of rain, I sipped my coffee. As I finished the orange juice, downed the last drop of my coffee, and closed my laptop, it felt like I was starting to get a headache from hell.

Wishing I had something stronger, I settled for taking a handful of aspirin for my headache and headed outside to take a run through Ghost Forest.

Early this morning with the leaves turning into yellows, oranges, bright reds, beauty only a mountain can produce, I felt in awe of nature’s beauty. Fall is my favorite time of year. Mother Nature painted the landscape, the cooler weather made running more fun, and the humidity was gone.

Mountains made for picturesque views, which painters loved to put on canvas, capturing the colors that only this time of the year produced.

My run usually consisted of five- to ten-mile jogs through Ghost Forest. The flat ground there allowed spontaneous, unhindered running. Recreational trotting up and down the mountainsides and dodging oak trees, sugar gum, sassafras, Victorian spruce, and pine trees sucked the fun right out of exercising.

Constructing paths throughout the forest took approximately a month; different paths had different miles dedicated to the amount of exercise I desired on any given day.

Running for five miles was half of today’s plan; the other was trying to make sense of the strange and eerie nightmares, hallucinations, omens that filled my imagination lately. To my best speculation, these strange nightmares were induced by pain.

I was suffering this horrific pain that came and went, which often started out as small aches, increasing during bouts of exercising, exacerbating my depression. These soulless, unrelenting stabs of pain I have been experiencing, these jabs of agony, felt like a spike being pounded into my skull.

I’d decided that I should consult a doctor for a headache diagnosis. One day soon, I will get a doctor’s appointment.

One day soon

Traveling on Agua Frio Highway, heading for Two Bridges, I found myself speeding to my appointment with Dr. Martin, excitement running through my veins.

The sleepy small town of Two Bridges was marooned in the valley between tall mountains rising on both sides, creating a spectacular view. The mountains looked like long fingers stretching for the heavens, the peaks disappearing on cloudy days. These mountains created 90 percent of the town’s profits from winter sports.

There were 532 souls living in town. Last month, on a Wednesday, the Underwoods birthed a set of twins, adding the 2 to our population.

Small stores lined both sides of Center Avenue. The walls of the stores butted up against each other, making it appear like one long building. It was your typical quaint small town where citizens stopped outside storefronts and talked with one another.

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