Category: Short Stories

Let’s name him Jerry…

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Non Fiction, Short Stories2 Comments

A whisper into my mother’s ear by my fifteen year old brother Lawrence ‘Dean’ and she proclaimed me Jerry Wayne Brotherton. Old English in origin; a diminutive form of Gerald (The Ruling Spear).

In 1941, 1.3 percent of the population held the prestigious name. But for some reason, with World War II came the nickname for German soldiers…Jerries. Starting a downward slide that nearly drove the name to extinction and it’s never recovered.

I was born 16 years after the name peaked in popularity. Setting the tone for what would become my life’s motto…a day late and a dollar short.

March

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short StoriesLeave a comment

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March –

Named for the God of War but Loki is your nature. Each year you bring the prospect of spring yet your deceit hides that promise under your cloak of white. I should know better, but you understand how much I need to believe your promises.

Beware the ‘Ides of March’; Julius did not heed the warnings and you repaid his arrogance with the cold steel of betrayal.

Now you say that you are the master of time and will move the sun to bring me another hour of light. But you’ve only robbed from the beginning to repay the end.

Connie Was a Cheerleader

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short StoriesLeave a comment

Connie is a cheerleader. With her bright, white teeth, smile and bouncing tits. Her short skirt legs running long and lean through indecent thoughts. Those bright Friday night lights are her stage. She uses the crisp November air as her makeup. Robert envies the night breeze for the chance to caress her skin and send that blushing red color onto her cheeks.

Connie is mysterious and foreign to Robert. She is the manicured lawn and a garden filled with flowers that only exist in his dreams. She is a white fenced house with a stone pathway, a refrigerator filled with food. She is Norman Rockwell family dinners. She knows Van Gough, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, lavender bath soap, satin sheets, silk pajamas and pink bed spreads. She knows Gucci, Tommy Hilfiger, Abercrombie and Fitch. Although he has only talked to her a few times, Robert is sure she knows him too.

As they talked, he watched her piercing green eyes stare through his soul like holding a paper to a light bulb. He saw her cringe at the sight of his shriveled up insides, Salvation Army furniture, Batman comics, and cold bologna sandwich dinners. He knew she smelled his stagnant life in a broken down trailer on a filthy back lot where she could hear a life filled with “god damn you”, “fucking little punk” and “get the hell out”. She saw the empty beer cans stacked on the garage sale coffee table covered with cigarette ash. Yes, Connie knows him and she wants nothing to do with him. Connie is a cheerleader and he is not the quarterback.

*****

Robert is a loner. With his sky blue eyes, crooked smile and fuck the world and let them kiss my ass attitude. With his broad shoulders and sad puppy eyes, he’s learned to survive and take the things he needs. She envies him for his freedom and strength.  He is a no curfew James Dean adventure.  He is “something much better than this” hope and “I will never leave you alone” safety. Things that she longed for in her dreams. He is strong and silent yet she has seen the gentleness in his stare. Though they have talked only a few times, Connie knew he read her thoughts with the ease of a first grader’s book.

He had looked into her eyes and cringed at the lies she keeps hidden in the shadows. He has seen her pretend life behind her parent’s money.  He feels the fear of fatherly lust. He saw beneath the heavy makeup hiding her bruises. He hears the “better not tell your mother or else”, “you worthless little bitch” and “you’ll do what I say.” He flinches at the sharpness of the razor blade in her bathroom drawer. Yes Robert knows her and wants nothing to do with her. Robert is a loner and she is damaged beyond repair.

 

 

 

 

 

I’m not a bad person

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short Stories6 Comments

I’m stuck at the red light on 4th street across from the shelter. I try not to stare at the men shivering in the afternoon rain. Instead, I think about my wife at home with the fragrance of happiness in her hair, my comfortable chair and how good my bed will feel even though its mattress refuses to grow accustomed to my body’s shape. I don’t want to think about these old men and their soup kitchen dinner, or the newspaper blankets that they’ll use to shelter them from the cold. I only think…I wish this damn light would change.

Memorial Day

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short Stories2 Comments

Memorial Day –

The picnic tables that held all the food were covered with red and white. We lazed about on blankets scattered around the cool grass covered yard. We drank ice cold beer, sweet tea and lemonade and devoured the watermelon, ice cream, Momma’s apple pie and fried chicken. Some of younger ones even napped in the cool shade of the trees. We caught up on lost time with family and watched the children play on the same playground equipment I knew as a kid. Across the street, an impromptu ball game started. They were soon joined by strangers from other families celebrating the day. Although in our quiet little part of the world, even strangers are family.

Earlier that day I had watched the parade pass down Main Street. I paid little attention to the elderly soldiers feebly moving along in their ancient uniforms and carrying flags from wars long gone. I was more interested in the kids chasing down the candy being tossed from vehicles whose signs I failed to read.

As the sun fell low on the horizon, and we strolled back to the car, I glance around at the serenity of the day. I realize that at least, I understood the question; even if I didn’t yet know the answer.

Could I be like those old men; willing to lay down my life to preserve this?

As I walked hand in hand with you down the tree lined street, laughter and singing drifting into the clear sky, I looked into your eyes and my heart beat out the answer.