Tag: life

The Funeral

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short Stories10 Comments

 His heart was formed from the black gumbo that filled the space between heaven and hell

It was a cloudy and rain soaked day when they lowered Eddie into his 8’ x 3’ x 6’ eternal home. The entire town was in attendance. Most people were still stunned at the news that our star athlete was dead. To listen to them talk, he was a saint. More like a God among men, a Messiah sent to us to deliver us to the Promised Land reserved for those who could call themselves ‘State Champions’.

Every business in town was closed and every man in town who wasn’t at the funeral was gathered down at Pappy’s bar. They sat around mourning in their own way, like men without pride tend to do, over beer and whisky. While every woman in town was busy frying chicken or making a casserole for after the funeral. All of them crying like the very heart and soul had been ripped from the town itself.

On the pulpit, Reverend Delkes was proclaiming that, “God has stretched out his arms and pulled young Edward James Walters to walk eternally at his side.”

Tears streamed down Momma Walter’s cheeks. William, Eddie’s father, stood by her side. Teeth clenched and jaw set so as to show no emotion. Eddie’s sister Mary stood beside them both, swaying back and forth like the Holy Spirit had entered her body and took possession of her. The boys wept because they knew any hope of their winning now was being covered with black gumbo. All the girls cried because they knew he was their best shot of getting out of this town.

But you and I know the truth Janice. You and I know what really happened so many years ago. We know that bastard got exactly what he deserved. But your soul is still tied up in knots from his hands and I will live with the blood on mine and gladly give more. If only I could move the clock backwards for you. To that Friday before he ripped away your innocence.

I’m a Big Kid Now

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Poetry, Rhyming5 Comments

1963 – I’m a big kid now…

Alcatraz Island
John F. Kennedy
The Beatles
Bob Dylan and Joan Baez

Mona Lisa comes to America

Iron Man hits Marvel’s comic strip

Governor Wallace has nothing to say

Freewheelin’ Dylon is who is now hip

Alcatraz finally closes its halls

Prisoners will suffer there no more

The Big Apple’s newspaper strike is over

No one can tell me who won that war

Coke unveils a brand new diet soda

It has everyone screaming for their Tab

Liston you might have taken Patterson

But, Cassius now wants to show you his jab

We must say our goodbyes to Patsy Cline

She will forever remain in our hearts

‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ hit the air

From that, Beatle mania starts

MLK is still holding on to his dreams

As Kennedy’s brains drip from his head

Suddenly the world is not as big as it seemed

The good times we once knew are now dead

But maybe the X-Men or the Avengers

Can show me how not to be afraid

Of all the sadness and all the horror

That comes with entering the first grade

One Last Night

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short Stories2 Comments

Like he’d done for 40 years, he placed their breakfast on the table. Since the stroke his wife had little appetite for food. He watched the morning news and she stared out the window. Later, in the garden he picked tomatoes and she watched the sun fall below an orange horizon. He said, “I love you.” She had no reply. As darkness crept in, they undressed and went to bed. When he awoke the next morning she was not at his side. In his frantic search, he found the check from the life insurance company lying unopened on the table

Helen

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short Stories8 Comments

“There’s absolutely nothing good that can go on after midnight, there’s no movies, no restaurants, no school dances. Only one thing happens and you don’t want any part of it if you want a normal life.”

If anyone knows about not having a normal life, it sure as hell is going to be me. My piece of shit father was a man of few words and never the right ones. I never once in my life heard an “I love you”, gotten a hug or even a smile from the rotten bastard. He preferred to let his belt do his talking for him.

The woman that I called mother just hid away in the bedroom, sniveling like a child herself, with never a word or lifting a hand to try to stop him. One day, in a drug induced moment of courage, she pointed the sleek, cold steel of my dad’s .45 at the wrinkle just above her nose and pulled the trigger. As far as I was concerned, it was just another coward’s move from a weak minded piece of shit. The powder and lead might have driven away her pain but a lot of good it did for me.

So I fled into the night and let the darkness seduce me. Where I could feel the coolness of the shadows against my naked skin dance with the heat from whoever was willing to pay for my passion.

My dear daughter Leanna, you were born on my seventeenth birthday. That day, I vowed to make a better life for you, my precious baby girl. I was going to give you all the things I had never gotten from life; a home, love, compassion, support and honesty.

I just forgot that all those things came with a price. That all the money in the world couldn’t give you those things, only time shared with each other can do that.

Now, all I can do is bring flowers to your grave.

“I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you while you were being seduced by the night.”

My Brother David

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Non Fiction, Short Stories10 Comments

He loathes the city with all its bright lights, glitzy neon signs and noise that makes it impossible to think. It seems to demand every second of his attention, always screaming at him, “Focus on me and don’t you dare look away.” Yet, it has never offered him anything in exchange for his obedience, except a headache.

He is an open field of wildflowers, a tree lined ridge, the coolness of a slow moving creek, a dog at his side and a pole in his hand. He needs the softness of grass under his feet. He is a country boy.