Redford

This was not what Redford was expecting.

In the Swing of It

The roar started behind third base, and swept around the cheap seats. It wasn't many games ago that Frank had sent one over the fence in that direction. He wasn't the Babe, but he wasn't bad either. The sun caught him over his right shoulder as he reached back for the swing. For a moment he was in heaven. The ball gleamed with a soft glow while seeming to freeze in mid-air. The rotating seams bulged like red veins against ivory skin.

Then suddenly the play was over, he had been duped. His form was impeccable, and his swing ideal; however with screaming ferocity the ball came low and inside blowing a kiss to his kneecap as it landed in the catcher's mitt. Frank had struck out.

Swinging

Mike sat back onto the swing, it was the one he used to play on all those years back.  As he began to rock back and forth he thought of her, she had gold hair in pig-tails and a collection of plastic bracelets on her left arm.  Sometimes memories are a good friend.

Dime Waster

Charlie ran the dime around in his hand, the soda pop machine had beat him before but he was determined this time.  Pinching the coin between thumb and index finger he deftly flicked it into the monstrous slot, taking the odds.

Rattle, Clunk, Chink then silence.  

Charlie pressed the button.  

Whizz, rattle, clunk then nothing.  

Charlie's shoulders shrunk and as he began to turn he caught a glimpse of something glistening on the ground, it was a shiny rock.

Desert Gold

Inching forward into the inky blackness of the pharaoh's tomb, Colonel Malcom of the 115th brigade knew not what lay ahead with the exception of one thing.  His mother had not packed a sufficient provision in his lunch box if this should happen to take more than the afternoon.