Push Me to the Sky!: 50 Five Star Stories

By Kevin Hughes

An Autistic Mind has a wonderful imagination. All fifty of these stories came from one mind- mine. Love, tolerance (okay, except for bullies) wonder, joy, and heaps of both Science and Fantasy are found in these stories. Forgiveness might surface in one story, trust in another. It is a collection of short stories that invoke you to sample an imagination unrestricted by genre. Romance is a constant theme, so is discovering wonder and awe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781483593104

Kevin Hughes

Kevin Hughes was born in Pennsylvania and now lives in New Jersey. He attended Rutgers University. He has a passion for writing and traveling, while also enjoying a good game of football in his downtime.  He is a part time author and full time entrepreneur!

Book preview

contents:

Push me to the sky!

Once again, she had to strain to reach the counter top. Even with her step stool, she couldn’t reach the toaster. Someone had pushed it back. She could see it gleaming, stuck back under the cupboards; cupboards that neither her, nor her husband, or her two children had ever used. She sighed.

Thirteen years old Brian Keeghan watched with a curious look on his face, one of consternation, embarrassment, and disbelief. A moment later, his young face cleared of all emotion, he quietly got up, walked over to the counter. Reaching his long arm back to the toaster, he gently pulled it forward, almost to the edge of the counter top. Mrs. Topper (and what an Ironic name to give a family of little people, Brian thought for the hundredth or so time) leaned over and touched his arm lightly.

You’re a good boy Brian Keeghan, and there is no denying that. Ever since you met my Elsie and became her friend, this house has had some cheer in it. You know why? Do you now?

No. Mrs. Topper.

It is because of your heart. You treat us all, as if we were tall, or normal sized. You call us Little People, when you found out that is what we call ourselves, never do you call us midgets. Remarkable in a boy your age, or any age for that matter.

Brian turned bright red. He had no idea what to say. He was ashamed to say he had called them midgets, until that day he saw Elsie, sitting calmly on a swing, a circle of playground bullies- both girls and boys, taunting her because she couldn’t reach the ground with her feet. She looked calm, but the tears were streaming down her cheek. Giving lie to the false smile and calm demeanor she displayed to the crowd of jeering children. It made Brian mad. Fighting mad.

No one wanted to fight an angry Brian Keeghan. The few that did, never wanted to do it again. He wasn’t the biggest kid in school, and was far from being the smallest- but he was by far, the toughest. He never started a fight, but he finished them all. When Brian Keeghan was finished with you, you, my friend, were done. He stomped through the crowd…ready…if anyone said a word, he would throw them to the ground. As he stepped through the circle of children, they all quieted down immediately. What was he doing? They wondered.

Brian, himself, had no idea. He just hated bullies. He hated it worse, when good kids just stood by and watched. It was then that he met Elsie’s eyes. She took one of her tiny hands, and raised the index finger towards him. Waggling it in the manner that says world- wide: No, no, no. Stop right there. Brian got it immediately. She did not want anyone hurt. She didn’t want a fight, or ugly words. She would rather quietly sit on the swing, refusing to let the children see how awkwardly she had to climb out of the seat to get down. She would sit there until the last bell of recess, fall off the swing, and even though it hurt, run to her class…late.

Brian registered all of this in a heartbeat. Without breaking stride, he walked right behind her, and pulled the swing gently back by both chains.

Would you like a push?

Oh, Yes. She squealed in surprise and delight.

Brian had only moved back a few feet, and he let the swing go. She went forwards a bit, and on the back swing, he put his hands on her back, and pushed ever so gently.

Elsie laughed.

You have to push harder than that!

Brian couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was smiling. He was too. He was surprised to see she weighed as much as a normal girl her age. He did have to push harder, and he did. This time, she flew forward. Leaning back on the chains, and giggling, she flung her little legs up with glee.

Whee…Wheee.

He pushed her higher and higher still she hung on, urging him on.

Push me to the sky! And she laughed.

That was how they met: no one, but him and Elsie knew- that when they were alone, Sky is what he called her. She loved that name. On their wedding invitations, just ten years later…was a picture of a swing set, a little girl sitting in it, a little boy behind her. Underneath was a caption:

Push me to the sky.

The High School reunion.

She sat at the table hr cane hanging gently from the back of the folding chair. All the ribbons and banner had been hung earlier, the tables decorated, and the slide show was ready and waiting. She was nervous, caressing the necklace for both reassurance and strength. It was the necklace he gave her the Christmas before their graduation. It was all she had left. Some people only wear jewelry for special occasion some wear rings to show their commitment or even to show off. Not her. She wore that necklace because it reminded her of Him. It also reminded her of how wrong she had been. The Necklace brought back a time when He was in her life, and life was good.

She never forgot the look on his face that night in Dairy Queen, just a week before graduation. She was sitting with Frank. Frank was exciting, dangerous, and a bit of a drinker. He, well He was none of those things. In her almost 19 years on the Planet, four of them had been with Him. Steady, strong, kind, Him. It got boring. She knew He loved her with all his heart. He did from that first moment in 9th Grade - when she slipped on the stairs and would have certainly smashed her head on the steps below. He reached out with those unusually long arms of his, and with deceptive strength (even then, when he was only 13) caught her in midair with one hand, and snatched her book bag out of the air with the other.

I see you have fallen for me.  And He smiled.

That was that. For four years they were the perfect couple everyone thought so, everyone said so. It was the truth. She knew that …now. Somehow, she had convinced herself that she was missing out on life already an old maid at eighteen. She could depend on Him. Always, In all ways. Nothing ever changed. He adored her, loved her, and made her feel safe. Well, she wanted more! She wanted to feel excitement, danger, pleasure, being drunk, or high, or getting a tattoo. Stuff that all of her friends would glorify in stories that they told her at lunch, or after a weekend party they went to. It intrigued her. After all, she was still a Virgin, as He was, oh sure they made out a lot, but he wanted to wait…she did not.

Frank, being the bad boy that he was, with the dark hair, brooding eyes, and that bad boy image that seduced many a young girl- must have sensed it. For he started sniffing around her at Spring Break telling her how pretty she was (and she was). Telling her that dating other people was healthy (it wasn’t). Teasing her about missing out on all the good things: parties, sex, getting high, and more sex. It sounded exciting, dangerous, and a bit evil. It was a wonderful spiel - and she had no idea how practiced Frank was at delivering it to pretty young things; Especially naive pretty young things.

One thing led to another, soon, her and Frank were having a thing. She asked Frank to meet her at Dairy Queen. She was going to break it off. It didn’t feel right, and she was discovering that Frank was selfish, demanding, and demeaning. Things those four years with Him had never prepared her for. Frank was a taker, not a giver. He loved knowing that he had conned her into cheating.  He loved knowing that He was to stupid to know that Frank was doing his girl. He gloated to his friends about how he got in the pants of not only the prettiest girl in school, but how he managed to do it on the sly.  He had taken the purest and best relationship in the School, and defiled it. Frank would smile every time He passed by in the Hallways. Frank would shake his head, and snicker, when He would look at Frank with a bewildered smile. You poor stupid fool. Frank would think to himself, then laugh out loud. I got her first.

She had just told Frank that it was over. Frank, of course, was already bored with her whining and clinging - as if she wanted reassurance that Frank loved her. Frank didn’t love anybody but himself. She learned that the hard way. Frank was already turning the screws to watch her face shatter with pain: If you don’t come home with me tonight. I will tell your little buddy boy just what you have been up to these last few months. I am sure he will forgive you. Frank laughed as he watcher her fear- grow. She knew Frank would tell Him. She wanted to be the one to tell Him. It was her fault. It was her life. It was her love. Frank had no right to try and take that little bit of honesty from her. But he would if he could. Frank never got the chance.

Unknown to either of her, or Frank, who eyes were locked in a duel - on one side - a bully with the upper hand, on the other side, an innocent girl stripped of her dignity trying to at least hold onto her last shred of honesty. She would tell Him. Not Frank. That is why neither of them heard Him silently glide to the table. Nor did they realize that for the last five minutes of their conversation. not only Him, but all of the folks in the Dairy Queen had heard the entire conversation. Frank was a snake, a sadist, a bully, and was enjoying the torture he was putting her through. It made his eyes shiny, and his breath quicken. He would offer her a deal. You spend one more night with me, and you can tell him yourself in the morning. She was loath to do that, but it seemed like the only way she could see, so that she would be the one to tell Him what she had done. She never answered Frank, because a strong hand, at the end of a long arm, filled with anger, pain, and embarrassment had just encircled the neck of Frank.

He lifted Frank up to eye level, with no more effort than most folks could lift a bag of sugar, a small child, or a ten -pound dumbbell.  Frank wrapped both of his hands around that roped forearm. Not trying to break the grip, just trying not to have it break his neck. Already he could barely breathe. When Frank saw the look in His eyes, all struggles ceased. He was looking right into the eyes of judgment: cold, unblinking, determined judgment. Frank was not stupid, or naive. He knew if he said one word. It might very well be his last. His gloating fell away, as did his veneer. Frank was afraid, for righteous anger is not something you see often.  He hung there, suspended in air as those eyes let him know that a promise had been made. This wasn’t a deal like Frank had offered her this was a sentence, held in reserve. Frank knew it. He knew it. The agreement was made, Frank’s life- in exchange for his silence.

If you ever go near her again, I will find you. Apologize to her tell her how you manipulated her. Tell everyone in here how you never cared for her right from the beginning. Do it!

With that, He let go of Frank. It took Frank a few moments leaning against the booth to regain his breath, his neck was already bruising from those iron fingers, and his soul was running scared from those eyes.  Frank stood still, focusing on looking at a giant poster of a chocolate Sundae. Anything so he wouldn’t look into those eyes of Him. He knew what was behind that look the intention to fulfill His promise to Frank. Frank told everyone about how he prayed on her self doubts her imagination, and her naiveté. Frank was revealing himself for who he really was, in front of witnesses. Frank recited the whole scenario up to the very moment she called him to meet at the DQ. Then he told everyone the deal he had offered her, with no intention of keeping. He was going to take a picture of her in Frank’s bedroom and send it to Him. Maybe even post it online.

Frank lost all his power that night in the DQ. Frank left town the next morning. No one knows where he went. No one cares.

She had sat frozen in place. As Frank droned on and on, all she could do was look into His eyes as every word sent a dagger, a knife, a bludgeon of hurts peppered his soul. His heart shattered, and all she could do was continue to stare into His eyes, as Frank babbled desperately to finish the long list of abuse, manipulation, and deceit. Her tears poured in an endless stream without the soft patter of falling rain. No, these were the tears backed by a terrible wrong. She had True Love, and made it False. There is no tear more bitter, more stinging, more helpless, less comforting. The tears she let fall were not tears of crying, but instead a cry. A plea. A beg.  She saw the tears falling from his face, a river of warm salty grief. His tears only asked one thing: Why?

Frank had worn down. He let him go. Frank tried to regain a bit of cockiness to walk out of the Dairy Queen with, but one glance at the dozen or so people, all with tears of shock and outrage on their face, convinced even Frank’s misguided mind, to just get out of there- alive. He didn’t run. He cobbled and scrabbled like a crab on linoleum, no longer capable of upright standing. Frank scurried away like a bug. Frank was scum, and the pond was being cleaned.

She looked up at Him. I…am…so…sorry.

He looked back. She couldn’t read the look in his eyes. He didn’t say anything. He just turned and walked out the door. His mind and heart had left way earlier. As he walked by, people touched him gently, offering to take some of the pain, or maybe to let go of their own. He didn’t stop. On Monday, the last week of School, everyone had heard about Dairy Queen, and everyone gathered in the Lunch room to see her and Him, make up. Everyone knew that she would find a way to make it up to Him. She didn’t share their confidence, but she knew she would face him, girl to boy. At lunch, the only class time they had together, everyone waited for Him to come and sit with her. He never came. Later that day, she asked the Guidance Counselor where He was.

Oh, He gave us an address to send his diploma to. He said he had to leave town unexpectedly.  To bad, I was looking forward to his Valedictorian Speech, I bet it would have been a good one.

That night, and every night that week, she cried. She didn’t attend graduation either. Ten years have passed, and now…

She sat at a table, her cane hanging gently from the back of the chair. She caressed the string of her necklace for reassurance. The cold medal warmed her heart. He would show up. Something inside of her was sure of it. She had told Mary, Becky, and Steve who were running the reception desk to tell Him, when he showed up, that she was sitting at a table waiting for him. If He turned up, and turned around when they told Him, she was there. She would leave. If he didn’t turn up at all…she would know. So she waited, the necklace sliding a song of hope between her fingers.

The door opened into the gym. She watched as the gym slowly filled. Sometimes with a couple, or a group of old friends, or sometimes in a rush to get in and start mingling. He wasn’t one of them. After an hour, almost everyone who would show up-had. There were still a few stragglers, so she waited. Then…He was there. The room had been dark, not slow dance dark, but more a soft conversational type dark, so that folks could talk quietly. The band wouldn’t play until tomorrow.  Memories needed to be soft and fuzzy that first night, and the people who set up the gym knew that.  Yet everyone that was there swore later that the room lit up when She looked at Him. His return look was pure sunshine on a spring day. His look was a light that embraced, cuddled, and curled around her. It took her breath away. It had been a little more than Ten Years since she saw that glow. It had not dimmed at all.

He walked slowly towards her. Noted the cane with a questioning glance, then returned to bathing her in the soft light of forgiveness, of hope, of making amends.

What’s the cane for?

I need it to lean on. I was hurt when you left. I mean I was in an accident a few years later. I have to have something to lean on, or I can’t walk. "

Will someone to lean on …help?

Sure.

That was it. No fireworks. No string music. Just the sound of two souls torn apart by youth and silly mistakes becoming one again. He had never stopped loving her. She had never stopped loving Him. It was that simple. She stood on his feet when they danced, and he held her tight; the cane, like the past, forgotten and unnecessary.

Dreams Come True While You Are Sleeping.

He was sitting in the Dairy Queen sipping his Chocolate Shake, when they first came in the door. Right away he noticed her baldhead. Inside his mind he formed a silent Oh, Dear.  A baldhead on a teenage girl is often the sign of a battle with cancer the tag on her wrist was a dead giveaway too. The Mother looked harried, as do all Mom’s of sick children, as they try to be the rock for everyone, with no one to support them in their time of need. The Mom and the girl were laughing about something as they came through the door, and as the girl turned forward the young man got a glimpse of her face.

 He only had a few seconds to admire her beauty, and the strength that shown through the ravages done to her body-ravages done in the name of Science and Modern Medicine because then, his eyes met hers. He was stunned. Whatever she had endured to make it this far in life had shaped her soul, her inner self her character, into a solid wall of kindness, practicality, in the moment joy. If eyes are indeed the window to the soul, these eyes, her eyes, opened a vista, a panorama, a vision of a sparkly jewel like persona, barely held in check by the force of her personality.  He loved those eyes.

 She glanced at him, even though their eyes met, she skipped onwards. Something in her noted the intensity of his look, and duly noted her return look wanted to be open to that intensity. But she had cancer. Chemo had just ended today, and all she wanted was ice cream and to go home. So, she shunted all of her hidden feeling, as she often did over the last six months, to some corner of her mind that would day dream them back into existence in a quieter time. She headed to the counter with her Mom, and ordered a sundae.

He was a big boy, a quiet boy. He was about six foot five, with a rather large shoulder span, and really rather long arms. He did not know if he was handsome, or not, he did know he had an affect on the ladies, an affect that left him quite unaffected. He was not enamored by personal beauty, in others, or his own. He knew he had a body that created desire in most women, and quite a few men too. He could not care less.

He had been raised by a very vicious couple, who kept up appearances to the outside world - appearances that led to people thinking they were the perfect couple, simply because they were pretty people. He knew better. He was thirteen years old, and just over six foot tall, and 215 pounds, when he broke the chains that held him, turned to face the ugly fearful faces on the two beautiful people that had just horsewhipped him within an inch of his life. Bleeding, battered, and bloody, he turned his torn, shredded, and whipped back around, looked them in the eyes and said:  If you are still here when I wash off this blood, I will kill you both.  When he did wash off as much as he could, they were gone. Ever since then, for the last five years, he had lived alone.

His genius had allowed him to amass a small personal fortune, and run a tiny, but successful IT Company one with a very niche market, a very wealthy niche market. Money, like physical beauty, meant little to the quite big boy, he had suffered so much, for so long, while so little, that he trusted few folks, and kept his own counsel. He had hired an attorney to be his Legal Guardian. He hired the attorney so that he could buy a car, a home, get his passport and set up his business. He paid the Attorney quiet a retainer. On their first meeting, the big quiet boy explained what he