Terance Mann was shooting around several hours before the game. There were a few NBA staff members milling around, but no players. That was for the best. Terance didn’t want to be disturbed. He did a few dribble moves before pulling into a midrange jumpshot. Swish. Just like the last ten. But he wondered if he would be able to replicate that success in-game. Coach had informed him that he would be playing big minutes with the starters resting, and he knew that his shot deteriorated as he got more fatigued.
He heard another pair of sneakers join him on the hardwood. He looked around and saw Chris Paul shooting at the opposite hoop, even though it was very unlikely he would play in that night’s game. A true professional, Terance thought, always working on his craft even when he could be taking a day off to relax. Terance covertly observed Chris for the next several minutes, pretending to be involved in his own workout but really trying to pick up tips from afar. Chris’ handles were so tight, yet fluid, and his jumpshot was simply not missing.
Eventually, Terance forced himself to return his thoughts to his own practice. He thought about approaching Chris and starting up a discussion, since they had never exchanged words other than via the customary sportsmanship-driven postgame high-fives, but decided not to. Even though he was an NBA player himself, he felt intimidated by the stature and reputation of the man who he was sharing the court with. He knew it was foolish to be so timid, but he couldn’t help it. So he went back to his own practice.
In time, he noticed that the squeaking sneaker noises from the other half of the court had ceased. He turned around from his in-place dribble drills to find Chris standing just outside the three-point line, observing him.
“Hey,” Terance said, trying to be cool but very aware that he would likely fail at that.
“You’re gonna have a good game tonight,” Chris Paul said in a flat voice. For some reason, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head as he said this. Terance was torn between being creeped out and wanting to hear more from one of his idols.
“Hope so,” Terance replied.
Chris didn’t respond. He was standing dead still, the whites of his eyes seeming to glow. Just as Terance was wondering if he should alert the arena’s medical personnel, something weird happened. A black shadow, almost like a funeral veil, lifted up and off Chris’ body. Chris’s body itself didn’t seem to undergo any changes, but this amorphous dark blob of unknown composition started to float towards Terance.
“What…what’s going on?” Terance stammered, backing away two steps as the shadow approached him. “Chris…CHRIS!”
There was still no response from Chris. Terance, stricken with fear, tried to run away, but found his legs wouldn’t cooperate with his mind. When the ethereal black mist consolidated itself and plunged towards his chest, all he could do was close his eyes and hope that he wasn’t about to die.
Eyes closed, Terance felt a wave of warmth overtake his body. It started in his chest and radiated outwards in pulses. It was a pleasant sort of warmth, like being wrapped in a cozy blanket on a cold night. In spite of his alarm at the sheer oddness of what was occurring, he found himself relishing the sensation until it slowly ebbed away. He opened his eyes and saw that the black shadow had vanished. Was it in him, now?
“You’re gonna have a good game tonight,” Chris repeated, his eyes returning to normal and a friendly smile on his face. Now that Chris seemed to be back to his old self, Terance wanted to interrogate him about what had just happened. But when Terance blinked, Chris instantly disappeared.
Terance looked down at his hands, which were still tingly and warm. He picked up his basketball, and, for some reason, it felt more comfortable in his hands. What had Chris done to him?