"Jerry Oltion - The Miracle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Oltion Jerry)

When a spark jumped out and hit his knuckle he felt that, though. It burned like
crazy until he stuck it in his mouth.

Warily watching for more sparks, he backed off and waited for the fire to burn
itself out. He was glad the grass was still green from spring rains; if it had
been dry, the whole hill would have been ablaze by now.

It took a couple of minutes, but at last the flickering flames died down. Greg
approached the bush cautiously, a little bit spooked by the whole business. The
hair on his arms was standing up, and it felt like the hair on his head was,
too.

The leaves hadn't burned, nor had any of the twigs. The bush looked as healthy
as ever. Greg spent a long moment trying to decide if he was still agnostic.
He'd always said it would take an unambiguous sign from God to make him a
believer, but he wasn't sure if this was it. There could be a perfectly natural
explanation for what he'd witnessed, though he had no idea what that explanation
could be.

"Well?" he asked, figuring he'd give the Deity a chance to clarify His meaning,
figuring also that one word couldn't be used against him very wall if this was a
practical joke and someone was recording him. But nobody responded either way.
At last he said, "You'll have to do better than that," and raised his foot to
crush out whatever flames might remain.

He stopped with his shoe still upraised. He didn't want to stomp on a perfectly
good bush, especially the one growing at the very top of the hill, but the
damned thing had been burning just a minute ago; he couldn't very well just
leave it. He pondered his dilemma for another minute or so while his pulse
returned to normal, but as his muscles relaxed again he realized he did have
another option. That big drink of water he'd taken at the bottom of the trail
hadn't all sweated away...

Grinning mischievously at the thought of peeing within sight of anybody who
might be looking at the hill, he unzipped his shorts, took aim, and let go.

The flash of light when the stream of urine hit the ground at the base of the
bush was like a strobe going off. Greg heard a pow! like a firecracker
exploding, and felt every muscle in his body twitch in a single convulsion that
sent him a couple feet into the air and six feet back, to land sprawling on his
butt in the dirt path.

His entire groin felt as if he'd been kicked there, but his left thigh hurt even
worse. When he sat up and ran a hand over it, his fingers came away red with
blood. He'd landed on a sharp rock. Standing up, he zipped his shorts again and
bent around to look at the wound. It wasn't pulsing, but it bled freely from a
shallow cut about an inch long.
The bush stood mutely ignoring him, normal as could be. "To hell with you," Greg
muttered, and limped back down the trail toward his car.