No Weapon Formed (Boaz Brown) by Stimpson Michelle

Author:Stimpson, Michelle [Stimpson, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-05-19T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Stelson

Mornings were the worst. Seemed as though his body had spent the night in a brawl and he had to recover when the alarm clock buzzed. He’d caught the flu before and experienced the achy exhaustion, fever, and congestion that accompanied the virus. He’d never forget how it felt.

However, this was different. Not only was he in pain and tired, he’d begun to notice things no flu virus would produce.

As he parked in his reserved slot, he closed his eyes again, hoping the white spots in his vision would disappear.

He opened his eyes. White spots gone. For now.

Stelson took the keys from the ignition and got out of the car. He dropped his keys into his pocket—or so he thought until her heard them hit the ground. He’d miscalculated the position of his hand. Again.

“Hey, Brown,” Orson Maxwell, the owner of an insurance agency in the building greeted as he waltzed to the garage’s elevator.

“Morning, Maxwell.”

Stelson bent over to retrieve his keys. He quickly grabbed his laptop bag from the back seat of the truck and hoisted it on his left shoulder, which wasn’t his usual carrying spot. His right side had weakened so much that he was even afraid to hold Zoe on that side.

He locked the vehicle doors from the panel switch, then jogged to catch up with Maxwell, who was apparently holding the elevator for him. Suddenly, his right leg forgot how to step. Stelson stumbled but his left foot remembered the routine and put him back on track.

“Whoa! You alright there?” Maxwell asked.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Looked like you were about to take a dive,” Maxwell chuckled nervously.

“Naaaa. I was just making sure gravity still worked,” Stelson joked, though his mind reeled from this bizarre loss of function. His muscles sometimes didn’t follow the direction his brain gave them. Not that his brain was his friend, either, since it rarely ceased to pound inside his skull.

He boarded the elevator with Maxwell and they engaged in small-talk, which was something he hadn’t forgotten how to do, thankfully. He could carry on a whole conversation and not pay attention to one word, which was exactly how he made it to his floor.

“See you later,” Maxwell said as Stelson exited.

Stelson wondered if this was how it had been for his father. Did his father know that he was dying ahead of time?

Stelson gave Helen a slight ‘good morning’, grabbed the coffee she’d prepared for him, walked into his office and shut the door behind him.

He dropped his baggage behind his desk and fell to his knees in prayer at the desk. He didn’t want to leave his wife and children the same way his father had left his mother.

“Please, God. If not for me, for LaShondra, Zoe and Seth.”

Unbeknownst to his wife, Stelson had been reaching out to doctors on his own, ruling out the major culprit: cancer.

Still, there was no explanation for these peculiar symptoms. Just a bunch of guesses and hardly any relief from the throbbing in his head.

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