Nine and a Half

© J. Francois Barnard - 14 December 2023

On a scorching summer afternoon, I hastened home in my car, yearning for the solace of my abode. Navigating through my automated gate, a twinge of irritation gripped me as I noticed pamphlets carelessly scattered on the pavement beyond.

Label it as an obsessive-compulsive trait or attribute it to my penchant for perfection—labels matter me not. I simply harbour a strong aversion to unsolicited junk mail and pamphlets invading the sanctity of my address. Parking my car, I strode through the gate with a determination to rectify the untidy scene.

The capricious wind had whimsically dispersed the paper chaos, necessitating me to stoop low, peering beneath a hedge to unearth more of the unwelcome advertisements. Satisfied that I had restored order, I retraced my steps through the gate.

However, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of one last pamphlet ensnared between the steel gate and an unyielding hedge. Balancing the rest in my left hand, I reached down with my right to retrieve the lingering intruder, all the while attuned to the familiar click of the solenoid securing the gate shut.

In an unfortunate twist, my right thumb inadvertently traversed the intricate mechanism of the gate, severing the tip just behind the nail. The ensuing visit to the emergency room merely confirmed what I had sensed. The repercussions lingered—a lifelong companionship with nine and a half fingers, a testament to an inadvertent encounter with a seemingly harmless pamphlet.

^{Editor's note: The above story was the result of an assignment done in the Creative Writing course, Section The Craft of Plot, at Wesleyan University. We focused on rising action from one sentence to the other and the ABDCE structure of a plot.}