The Road to Damascus by Richard D. Ramsey

Author:Richard D. Ramsey [Ramsey, Richard D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J. Ellington Ashton Press
Published: 2017-10-08T23:00:00+00:00

4

There was a county fair that came to Brantley every fall. It was full of carnival rides and games of skill, managed by people who always looked like they had seen better days. Of the few that still had teeth, even fewer smelled like they had taken a bath in recent days. But, as a kid, you never really saw the people at a fair. You saw the lights and heard the sounds of bells and whistles and the laughter of the other children as they were spun around and around by rickety midway rides. My mother took me every year. We didn’t have much money, but we’d walk down to the fairgrounds and Mother would find a little bit of money to give me and I wouldn’t see her until the end of the day when one of the dirty carnies would drive us home. Their cars always stank and they smoked in them, but it was a ride.

There was always this one game at the fair that ended up taking most of my money. It was a basketball throw. Now, if there was one thing I loved more than a carnival, it was basketball. Every year, I told myself that I was bigger and stronger and that I would win the large prize. All I had to do was throw the ball into the hoop! I practiced and practiced with a net I made from an old laundry basket and a ball that a church had brought to me one year. My skills at home got better, but I could never win that prize. I never really wanted a stuffed animal or anything like that; I was just determined to beat the game.

One year, when I was about thirteen or so, I was just sure that it was the year I was going to make it. I took my money to the basketball booth, plopped it down and wasted most of it missing the score. Throw after throw, I don’t remember how many, but it was a lot. Every time, the dirty man at the booth would say something very sympathetic and encourage me to try again. I wanted to get one, just one. The booth attendant smiled his toothless smile and said something like you can do it, I know you can. He knew I could do it, I knew I could do it, too.

It was about that time that some strange carnie I had never seen before put his hand on my shoulder, leaned over and whispered in my ear, “hey, come with me. I need to show you something.”

When I was a young boy, I was wary of strangers; but when I was a teenager, I was bulletproof. I shudder to think now of what kind of trap I could have fallen into, being so naive, but he wasn’t looking for trouble. The carnie at the basketball booth pouted his bottom lip and made a clownish frown. “Hurry back, you’re getting better!”

The stranger introduced himself, I don’t even remember his name now, and told me he had been watching me for quite some time.

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