Category: Short Stories

1963, defining my place in the world…

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Non Fiction, Short Stories4 Comments

1965 Jerry 2nd Grade1

“I have a dream” – Martin Luther King Jr.

“Ich bin ein Berliner” – John Kennedy

“The answer is blowing in the wind” – Peter, Paul and Mary

“Segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever” – George Wallace

“They have killed my husband. I have his brains in my hand” – Jacqueline Kennedy

“You don’t catch hell because you’re a Democrat or a Republican. You don’t catch hell because you’re a Mason or an Elk, and you sure don’t catch hell because you’re an American; you catch hell because you’re a black man” – Malcom X

“Mrs. Conway, I have to go to the bathroom” – Jerry Brotherton

Quality vs quantity…

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short Stories3 Comments

senior-3336451_640 (1)The young boy was impatiently running ahead. Lagging behind him, the elderly couple held hands and constantly stopped to take in the sites. They would read the signs and take pictures and discuss what they each were seeing. Growing frustrated, the boy eventually stopped and turned to them and said, “We need to go faster Papa and Gramma or we won’t get to see everything.” The old man turned to his wife and smiled. “He will learn someday that by slowing down, the quality of the places we do see is much more rewarding than how many places we see.”

The sun will come out tomorrow.

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short Stories19 Comments

20190530_065356When the future seems to hold no hope and it feels like the world is conspiring against you, remember the old cliché that when one door closes another one will open. So when hardship hits, don’t waste your energy on things that you can’t control. Be patient and concentrate on what you can change. Without change there can be no growth.

Childproof caps…

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Non Fiction, Short Stories14 Comments

So here’s the thing guys. Everybody knows by now that I’m an old geezer. I don’t try to hide it, in fact I use it to my advantage the best I can. But, I also have arthritis in my hands pretty bad along with several other afflictions that we won’t go into today. So I take what seems to be a semi-truck full of medications. Like all Americans, I have to purchase them at the cheapest place possible. That means Costco Home Delivery (your welcome Costco for the free publicity). My apologies to the local pharmacies but evil insurance makes me do it.

So where was I…oh yeah?

Because I buy my drugs online, they gave me the option to order them with regular screw on lids. Of course, being old and feeble, I chose yes. I assumed they realized that because I had arthritis it would be difficult for me to open the childproof lids. So I thanked them for their concern and left the website thinking how considerate they were for thinking of my well-being.

Well, my package arrived a few days later. A plastic bag sealed up tighter than an armored tank. After a search through various junk drawers to find a pair of scissors I managed to finally get the contents dumped onto the table. It appears that in the world of online medication the motto is, “why use one bottle when you can use three instead?” Yes, three bottles for every prescription and each one neatly sealed with a childproof cap. My immediate thought was that I had made an error in the ordering process. I’m old and that’s what happens to me a lot. But then, lo and behold, underneath the whole thing was another plastic bag filled with my screw on lids.

What am I to do I wondered. Then the answer hit me. I would enlist the help of the one person that I was sure could remove the caps with ease. So I asked the neighbors 5 year old daughter to give me a helping hand. Remember folks, if you have childproof caps, you better have a child around to get them open.

Jason…

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short Stories2 Comments

Janice has withdrawn into herself again. She’s setting there on our yard sale couch staring into a TV that isn’t even on. With the old quilt, that our grandmother made, wrapped tight around her; though it’s eighty degrees in our trailer. Her face is sunken and her skin hangs lose from fragile bones. Like all the emotions have been sucked away from her and left her deflated.

I sit down next to her and she leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. We set for an eternity in our silence just staring at the floating specs of dust in the sunshine. It’s like we’re frozen inside a snow globe.

“I hate Fridays,” she says to me. I smile because I know she’s trying to push away the ugliness that is shrouding her.

“I know Jan.” I tell her, because really I do.

It was three years ago on a Friday that I found you huddled in the woods, just off the path that we used as a shortcut from school. We took that path everyday together…except that Friday. That Friday, I wasn’t there for you because that Friday I tried out for that fucking school play. I found you there, shaking so hard I was afraid your bones would shatter. Your head was in your hands and the tears burning the scuff marks on your cheeks. I heard you whispering between your sobs, “No, no, please no.”

You were only twelve years old and collapsed into a pile of flesh and bones. Left discarded in the woods like some wounded animal. I found you there, with your clothes covered in your own blood. Your innocents ripped from your soul. You wrapped your fists tight into my sweater as I picked you up. Your eyes squeezed shut because you never wanted to look at anything again. There would be no beauty left for you in this world. I carried your trembling body in my arms. Your convulsions were so heavy that you vomited onto my cloths; your tears so large they washed it away again. Your short wisps of breath floated into the night sky along with all your dreams. All I could do was tell you that it was going to be okay…but I knew it never would.

While you searched for some answer, you cried, “Oh God, why, why?”

I don’t think God will ever give us those answers my dear sister, but I will always hate him for taking your childhood away.