PREVIEW: Caleb Sees the Light
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The LOST GENRE GUILD
Biblical Speculative Fiction
| Donna Sundblad's short story "Caleb Sees the Light" can be found in Light at the Edge of Darkness along with 26 other stories of Biblical speculative fiction.
Read more about the author, Donna Sundblad |
Caleb hankered for more excitement than listening to gossip at the grocery where he
worked part time as a clerk. He found a temporary fix to his mundane life by losing
himself in the pages of books he bought at the five and dime. Like second nature, his
hand checked for the sci-fi novel tucked in his back pocket. Even his love for reading
had been cultivated by his grandparents. He owed them so much. How would he broach
the subject of leaving with Grandpa sick?
Caleb shuffled up the hill. Grandma stood on the front porch drying her hands on her
apron. “Caleb, Son, you’re such a sweetheart to come help me.”
“Aw, Grandma.” He pecked her on the cheek and slipped into the house with the
elderly woman at his heels. She settled into her favorite chair. Caleb breathed in the
smell of Grandma’s house—a mixture of antiques and good cooking. Walking into the
small sitting room kindled fond memories. It hadn’t changed since the days he’d played
time traveler as a youngster. Grandma and Grandpa seemed oblivious to their old-
fashioned ways, yet it provided the perfect backdrop for imagining time travel. Now, if
he could, he would journey to a time when Grandpa’s health was good.
Caleb rested his hand on the back of Grandma’s upholstered armchair rocker. “How’s
Grandpa?”
Grandma let out a deep sigh and stared at the floorboards. “’Bout the same.” Her
bottom lip quivered a hair until she forced a smile. “Why don’t ya go in and see him?”
“You goin’ on to church?”
Grandma’s shoulders slumped. “I’d like to go for the prayer meetin’, but I don’t know
‘bout walkin’ that quarter mile on the way home. Moon’s nothin’ but a sliver. I’d be
lucky to see my hand in front of my face.”
Grandma played this game every week, waiting for Caleb to offer to come fetch her.
She liked to be walked home by lantern light like Grandpa used to do—like Caleb did
every Wednesday since Grandpa fell ill.
They’d almost bought a car back when Caleb was about ten. Almost. But they decided
against it and now touted the fact that they never owned a car. Times like this made
Caleb wonder if they ever regretted it. His grandfather’s words haunted him. Who
needs a car when God gave you two good legs?
“Grandma does,” Caleb answered under his breath. If she had a car, she’d do just fine
without me.
“Yes, Caleb?” Grandma said.
He blinked. Had he spoken her name out loud? A smile played across his lips. “Let me go
hug on Grandpa, then I’ll walk you to your prayer meetin’.”
Grandma untied her apron and hung it on a peg outside the kitchen door in the
mudroom. “Better yet . . . ” she grabbed her pocketbook “. . . you stay here with
Grandpa and come fetch me ’bout 8:30. Grandpa should be sleepin’ by then and won’t
miss us.”
Caleb nodded. “That’s fine, Grandma, I’ll be by the church ’bout 8:30.”
She smothered him with a hug and a kiss, smoothed the front of her housedress and
waddled out the door. What would she do when he told her he planned to run off to
the city to find his fame and fortune? Would she understand why he didn’t want to
attend the community college over in Harper’s Creek? Somehow, she’d have to.
He set his jaw, turned his attention to the bedroom and peeked in the door. Grandpa
would understand. He’d talk with him first. Nostalgia stopped him at the threshold.
Dust clung to the dark walnut bureau where Grandma’s crocheted dresser scarf draped
from each side. Grandma didn’t see dust like she used to. At the center of the bureau,
the kerosene lamp’s glass chimney sat like a lighthouse amid a barrage of family photos.
Caleb’s favorite caught his eye. He was about eight-years-old, standing beside Grandpa
with a big bass and a smile to match. Grandpa had been there. Pa hadn’t.
“Caleb,” Grandpa called in a weak voice from his bed. He patted the thin white blanket
swaddled across his dwindling frame. “Come sit; let me hear the news.”
Caleb scuffled to the bedside and stared into Grandpa’s sunken eyes. “News?” He
swallowed the lump tightening his throat. Was it selfish to leave? Just for a year to say
he’d experienced life outside this no-place town. At least he’d have something to talk
about. Even Patty Ann would be interested enough to spend time with him.
worked part time as a clerk. He found a temporary fix to his mundane life by losing
himself in the pages of books he bought at the five and dime. Like second nature, his
hand checked for the sci-fi novel tucked in his back pocket. Even his love for reading
had been cultivated by his grandparents. He owed them so much. How would he broach
the subject of leaving with Grandpa sick?
Caleb shuffled up the hill. Grandma stood on the front porch drying her hands on her
apron. “Caleb, Son, you’re such a sweetheart to come help me.”
“Aw, Grandma.” He pecked her on the cheek and slipped into the house with the
elderly woman at his heels. She settled into her favorite chair. Caleb breathed in the
smell of Grandma’s house—a mixture of antiques and good cooking. Walking into the
small sitting room kindled fond memories. It hadn’t changed since the days he’d played
time traveler as a youngster. Grandma and Grandpa seemed oblivious to their old-
fashioned ways, yet it provided the perfect backdrop for imagining time travel. Now, if
he could, he would journey to a time when Grandpa’s health was good.
Caleb rested his hand on the back of Grandma’s upholstered armchair rocker. “How’s
Grandpa?”
Grandma let out a deep sigh and stared at the floorboards. “’Bout the same.” Her
bottom lip quivered a hair until she forced a smile. “Why don’t ya go in and see him?”
“You goin’ on to church?”
Grandma’s shoulders slumped. “I’d like to go for the prayer meetin’, but I don’t know
‘bout walkin’ that quarter mile on the way home. Moon’s nothin’ but a sliver. I’d be
lucky to see my hand in front of my face.”
Grandma played this game every week, waiting for Caleb to offer to come fetch her.
She liked to be walked home by lantern light like Grandpa used to do—like Caleb did
every Wednesday since Grandpa fell ill.
They’d almost bought a car back when Caleb was about ten. Almost. But they decided
against it and now touted the fact that they never owned a car. Times like this made
Caleb wonder if they ever regretted it. His grandfather’s words haunted him. Who
needs a car when God gave you two good legs?
“Grandma does,” Caleb answered under his breath. If she had a car, she’d do just fine
without me.
“Yes, Caleb?” Grandma said.
He blinked. Had he spoken her name out loud? A smile played across his lips. “Let me go
hug on Grandpa, then I’ll walk you to your prayer meetin’.”
Grandma untied her apron and hung it on a peg outside the kitchen door in the
mudroom. “Better yet . . . ” she grabbed her pocketbook “. . . you stay here with
Grandpa and come fetch me ’bout 8:30. Grandpa should be sleepin’ by then and won’t
miss us.”
Caleb nodded. “That’s fine, Grandma, I’ll be by the church ’bout 8:30.”
She smothered him with a hug and a kiss, smoothed the front of her housedress and
waddled out the door. What would she do when he told her he planned to run off to
the city to find his fame and fortune? Would she understand why he didn’t want to
attend the community college over in Harper’s Creek? Somehow, she’d have to.
He set his jaw, turned his attention to the bedroom and peeked in the door. Grandpa
would understand. He’d talk with him first. Nostalgia stopped him at the threshold.
Dust clung to the dark walnut bureau where Grandma’s crocheted dresser scarf draped
from each side. Grandma didn’t see dust like she used to. At the center of the bureau,
the kerosene lamp’s glass chimney sat like a lighthouse amid a barrage of family photos.
Caleb’s favorite caught his eye. He was about eight-years-old, standing beside Grandpa
with a big bass and a smile to match. Grandpa had been there. Pa hadn’t.
“Caleb,” Grandpa called in a weak voice from his bed. He patted the thin white blanket
swaddled across his dwindling frame. “Come sit; let me hear the news.”
Caleb scuffled to the bedside and stared into Grandpa’s sunken eyes. “News?” He
swallowed the lump tightening his throat. Was it selfish to leave? Just for a year to say
he’d experienced life outside this no-place town. At least he’d have something to talk
about. Even Patty Ann would be interested enough to spend time with him.
The Lost Genre Guild's mission is to promote quality works of Biblical Speculative Fiction (spec-fic)
through its authors, fans; to endorse new releases that fit this criteria; and of course, to glorify Him.
through its authors, fans; to endorse new releases that fit this criteria; and of course, to glorify Him.
“I KNOW I HAVEN’T talked to you much lately, Lord, but if you
could, please let them understand.” Caleb kicked a stone,
stirring a dust cloud on the winding dirt road. With graduation
around the corner, how would Grandma and Grandpa react
when he told them he planned to take a year off school and
leave Liberty Hollow? His family had lived here eight
generations. Yet, what options did he have? His Pa had talked
of leaving, but days turned into years and the bottle changed
him. Caleb didn’t want to fall into that trap.
“Please, God, don’t let me turn out like Pa.”
could, please let them understand.” Caleb kicked a stone,
stirring a dust cloud on the winding dirt road. With graduation
around the corner, how would Grandma and Grandpa react
when he told them he planned to take a year off school and
leave Liberty Hollow? His family had lived here eight
generations. Yet, what options did he have? His Pa had talked
of leaving, but days turned into years and the bottle changed
him. Caleb didn’t want to fall into that trap.
“Please, God, don’t let me turn out like Pa.”
