Field of Vision

by Dieter

My eyes protested as I left the dark confines of the parking garage and merged into the rush hour traffic on the bright downtown street. Within a few blocks, I was high above the Mississippi on the bridge heading north towards the Iowa side of the Quad Cities. The banks of the river were overflowing with rushing water caused by the extraordinary amount of early summer rains. It was a wondrous sight, though I’m certain the flood victims downstream would take exception to my choice of adjectives.

I’ve always loved working in that high rise building in downtown Rock Island. The view from my office is spectacular. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m there for my job. Today had been a pressure cooker but it was nothing like I expected to find when I arrived home to face my wife. I needed to unwind and de-stress before that. When I descended back to ground level, I continued into the city streets instead of following the main highway. There’s something peaceful about driving through the quaint neighborhoods of older Davenport. I suppose it reminds me of a simpler time when I lived happily as a child in one of those homes.

Another Life To Live

by Specs4ever

I had been driving a truck for over 20 years. When I decided to retire early, I had tried to stay away from the life of a truck driver. Unfortunately, I had not been succeeding too well. I would find a day job that seemed to be satisfactory, and I would work at it for a few months, until the expenses exceeded the income. Once that happened, I would usually pick up another truck driving job.

I had hired on with a local company that ran refrigerated freight across the country. I have never liked driving with a partner, but to do this job, I was going to have to learn to accept it. And, Bob, my partner seemed to be a pretty nice person. He and I talked about how I could never sleep properly when the truck was bouncing up and down the road, and he agreed that if I felt tired during my shift, it was best that I pull over and get some sleep, no matter what our schedule was. So, as time went on, I eventually became tired enough that I was able to sleep for a while when it was my turn in the sleeper berth. And, for the most part, I was able to pull my own weight, and drive my whole 4 hour shift.

One day Bob and I had stopped for lunch in Oklahoma City, and when we returned to the truck, Bob climbed into the bunk. I drove for a couple of hours, when I was overcome by a bout of nausea. I quickly pulled over to the shoulder, jumped out, and left the remains of my meal on the side of the road. Food poisoning was the first thought that came to mind. Bob woke as I was retching my guts out, and he offered to drive for a while, so I climbed into the bed.

The Cane

(Note: this story is based on a concept and a short story written by a woman known as ParaGirl. I have adapted the subject matter, and added a few frills. Cathy, this is in your honor and with thanks!)

by Amy Casseaux

The whole thing began with a big shot of irony, in that I saw it by accident. I was driving along through a neighbourhood and I passed by a garage sale when I saw someone handling a white cane - the kind that blind people use.
I circled the block, trying not get excited. When I came back around the cane was leaning, fully extended, against a table. I parked by the yard sign that said ESTATE SALE and got out, pretended to look at other items first before coming to the table which not only had the cane, but a couple of Braille books and a talking watch. Then I saw the label maker. Yes, it was Braille, too! I'd hit the mother lode!

An Optical Seduction

by Eye Write aka Stingray

Frannie turned out to be everything she said she was. When I first met her, I was astonished by her honesty and awed by her beauty.

She was quite tall. She was closer to six feet than five feet. Her legs were slim and endless and her dark hair long with lavender streaks. Her skin shone with an olive complexion and her dark eyes seemed to always dance with laughter despite being almost microscopic hidden behind the lenses of the thickest eyeglasses I have ever seen. She had high accented cheekbones, a magnificent smile and a glowing warm personality.

It appeared she liked me too and after chatting a few moments I instantly liked her. You couldn't help but focus on her tiny green eyes which seemed to out of place behind the concentric rings of her thick lensed eyeglasses. But as she spoke, her eyes sparkled with glee. There was something very magical about her and I never wanted this evening to end.