This is based a true story, names and places were changed to protect the innocents.

The Visit Part II
A sound buzzed inside my ear, as if someone was sucking from straw inside soda cup but 5000 times louder. Out from the distance a voice was calling me. I thought I could identified the voice but I couldn’t believe my senses at that point my body was falling in the pitching mount while another part of me was standing on 3rd base. I was flouting in the air, my body did not feel the ground or to that effect I could not feel my body at all. “Joshua,” the voice said, calling my name. I turned toward the voice and I saw him, he stood right there by the 3 rd base coach, but the man couldn’t see him or me. There was a smile between Nelson’s dimples, there he was flouting in the air as I was. A glow came from his face or maybe his entire body, as if a light inside him was on. My eyes couldn’t believe what was happening; in my book Nelson was dead and he didn’t fly in the air. Something was going on and I could not make sense of what was happening to me. My body felt on the pitching mount and my teammates were running to see what had occurred to me. “Am I dead?” I asked Nelson. “You ain’t,” Nelson answered with hi a smile on his face. “But, how do you explain . . .” “That doesn’t matter now, time is too short.” Nelson didn’t let me finish. “Come with me, I want to show you something,” he gripped my arm and pulled me out into a tunnel of light that appeared behind me. In a moment we were on a street, in a city that couldn’t recognize. “Are we in heaven?” That was my next question. But Nelson didn’t answer me. The street was very clean, not even the smallest piece of paper littered the ground, there were trees planted on the sidewalks, with benches and flower pots on tables in front of the business glass windows. The street lights were on, but there was still light outside, as if the sun was going down slowly in the horizon, slower than normal. People dresses in pastel color clothes: light greens, sky blue, orange and yellows. A woman, with bleach blond hair, stood on a subway ventilator on the ground, and as her skirts was blow up by the wind produced by the subway train passing through; she tries to push it down with a sensual expression on dark red lips and her face.

Reclined against a gas station pump a young man, smoke a cigarette; he was wearing a dark red leather jacket. He was the personification of coolness. “Hi, Nelson,” the young man said as we passed near him. “Hi Jimmy,” Nelson responded with a glowing smile. “Who’s that?” I asked Nelson. “Oh, that’s Jimmy Dean, he was an actor in the 1950s.” Inside a restaurant, black man played a small white piano, he was singing a song to a man dress in a white jacket and a black bowtie, while the lady sitting across the table sang the same song the black man sang, “ . . . as time goes by.” On the bar two men sat on the barstools, the younger of both had pitch black hair, and made a funny gesture with his upper lips, while the older man had a funny thin mustache. This fellow was thick, his hand were huge, as if he did some kind of mechanical work with them. They both were smoking, one smile more that the other one, and both ordered coffee. “I think I know the young due.” I said to Nelson. “Sure you do.” He replied. “That’s Elvis.” “Elvis?” I shouted. ”The Elvis?” I kept on looking inside the strange small restaurant as we moved forward. “Yeah,” Nelson answered as if he was expecting me to believe that Elvis was alive. He smiled again and continued with the tour of the strange street. The people walked through the city street with confidence I could observe that there were smiles on their faces. At that point I understood that I was no longer on the earth, at least the earth that I knew. “Where are we, Nelson?” I asked. “In another place and time,” that was his answer. Answer that I couldn’t understand but I failed to fallow with another question. And he didn’t volunteer more information; he just smiled like the others around us at this point. Coming to us I saw a tall black man with a gouty on his face, he was wearing a Lakers fatigue. He looked at Nelson and acknowledged him. Nelson just said, “Hi, Will!” “It’s that Will Cham…” But I could not finish my question. Nelson answered, “The one and only, the only player that scored 100 points in one game. “Am I dead?”

“No!” “So, why I am here?” “I wanted to tell you something my friend.” “What?” Nelson looked me in the eyes, and then began to say, ”You were always my best friend, so I am taking this chance to tell you that your life is going to be hard for now on. People don’t believe you. . .”But something pulled me out of the street and Nelson’s present. I flew through the sky to land some moments later on the pitcher‘s mount where my body was surrounded by my teammates. My brother helped me to stand up; he tried to see if I was okay. However, my body felt fine at that point, even my forehead felt great, there wasn’t a bump on it after the 90 miles an hour baseball hit me on my face. I wobbled as I tried to walk, some of my brother’s friends laughed at me. I went outside the park and sat on my brother’s truck. Never told anyone about what happened to me that day. And that I began to talk to Nelson regularly for the next five years.

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