Dave Casler
PO Box 98
Ridgway, Colorado 81432
Young Adult Novels by Dave Casler...
I've been told by publisher after publisher that there's no market for Young Adult novels. I think they're wrong! So I'm putting my novels on-line for you. Forget the publisher! Read to your heart's content--it's free! And, I'd like to hear from you, too! Contact Page.
You're reading About Dan. Be sure to check out About Phillip here.
Dan is a normal kid who loves his soccer. Except everything goes wrong. Everything.
About Series Home
About the About Series
Index to All Chapters
Here are all the chapters, disguised as asterisks. Hover your mouse over an asterisk to see the title of the chapter. Click on the asterisk to go straight to that chapter.
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(About Dan Home) (Last) (Next)
A Snowy Sunday
It snowed much of Sunday: that fine, powdery, crunchy December snow so different from the slush of October or March. He'd made a lengthy attempt at prayer, but other than reviewing the events of the day and expressing his anguish at the loss of his mother (as well as the perceived loss of his father), he hadn't felt anything like that long-sought burning sensation in his chest. After the prayer he felt peaceful, as though he could handle Monday, but he was still disappointed he was not getting his prayers through the roof.
After a silent breakfast he claimed the living room couch for himself, grabbing a blanket from Peter's room and the Sunday paper from the kitchen. Everyone left him alone. Even Peter didn't try to tempt him. The television was off, its blank eye forlorn.
He stirred midmorning. Peter looked hopeful but Dan went back to the couch with his scriptures. It was, after all, Sunday. Peter looked over his shoulder for a while to see what he was looking at. Dan paid no attention to him so Peter continued to watch. Dan checked out scriptures on death, flipping back and forth, followed footnotes, checked more references, looked in the Bible Dictionary, sometimes stopped to ponder, but made no notes with the red pencil stuck in his scripture bag. Peter slipped out to the kitchen where he conferred with his mother in a voice too low for Dan to hear. He turned to references on the resurrection. He couldn’t find much beyond what he'd learned in Sunday School. He wished Brother Sam were there to help him, but he was at church. Dan’s ignorance of the scriptures wasn't doing him much good.
He tried a different tack. He looked up "homosexuality" in the topical guide, but didn't find anything that made any sense. He looked up "gay," but that was equally useless. So, he just opened his scriptures at random. He ended up in the Book of Mormon in a section describing yet another war between the Lamanites and the Nephites. Nothing was helping here.
He closed his scriptures and put them back in his scripture bag. He thought of doing some schoolwork, but dismissed the thought immediately. He sighed deeply for the thousandth time and stared at the ceiling as though it were the barrier between him and his mysterious God. Finally he lay back—scattering the newspaper on the floor—and fell asleep.
He missed lunch and nearly missed dinner. He replied to Marilyn's question that he was not going to the viewing. Bishop Parker had told him it would be depressing and hard, and anyway, it was entirely optional. He was preparing himself for the funeral, he said.
Aunt Betsy arrived just after eight o'clock that night. She'd already been to the viewing and although she said the obligatory things, it was clear she didn't want to talk. Her eyes were puffy, so Marilyn didn't ask her much except to see to her arrangements at Dan’s house. He opted not to go back there and Aunt Betsy didn't press. She looked very much like her sister, and her very British accent made Dan feel his loss even more. By the time Betsy was on her way, Dan was asleep atop Peter's bed. Peter took the couch.