Book of Short Stories

By Xlibris US

My parents were sharecroppers. We would move from place to place. Each environ had things to learn .
These short stories have a piece of my life enter-twined . It has been a thrill to capture those moments
I have experienced or told to ,e by others to which I see a part of me peeking through those nostalgic windows.
I hope that with these stories you also will recall similar recounts of memory.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781503520400

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Yon Ethraim Fearshaker.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014921024

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5035-2041-7

                Softcover        978-1-5035-2042-4

                eBook             978-1-5035-2040-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 11/24/2014

Xlibris

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CONTENTS

About The Author

The House Of Stone

The Tale Of A Tornado

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Christmas With The Titmouse Family

A Finger And An Ear

Locker Waves

I Can Learn

My Fingers Obey

Listen To Me Count

Like Acrobats

I Can Learn

I Am Big And Small

Tales From The Deer Stalker

The Deer Stalker

The Lily Of The Woods

Shirley Seed

Dandelions

The Primrose

Jack In The Pulpit

Azaleas

The Columbine

Thistle Blow

The Pitcher Plant

The Maple

Wild Ginger

The Moccasin Flower

May Apples

The Lupines

Morning Glories

Wisteria

Nhobi’s Glove

The Computer’s Secret

An Apocalypse Of Yon Ethraim, A Present-Day Disciple Of The Lord

Mcfinnegan’s Fingers

In The Comprehension Room A Short Story

By The Trees Of Gilead

Last Chance At Skoogie’s

Dompokin’s Drummer

The Ducklings Of Wrath

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Good day! Hope you enjoy the day’s blessing.

I herewith give you an insight into me as an author.

I was born in North Carolina. I moved with my parents when two years old to a farm in Virginia and graduated from Kenbridge High School.

My work history is quite varied. My work history includes: Dupont, Army, grocery clerk, greenhouse, Reynolds Metals Company and with an electrical contractor.

I became interested in literature in the eighth grade. Since then I've been writing poetry, short stories, plays and essays. If it had not been for Xlibris publishing company urging me to publish my works, they would still be in storage boxes until today.

THE HOUSE OF STONE

Rustic and bold are the eagles,

Ready in flight to guard

This house of stone by the highway,

Lending flights of fancy to the traveler

As no other house of Chester could.

Where, where, from whence came the stone?

Might angels have wished a dream?

Might elves have tickled its builder’s mind?

Might if and so and many things more

Enlighten the traveler on the road,

Enchanted by this house of stone by the highway.

Pillars of stone lend a mystic air

Linked by mighty shackling chains,

Swaying, sometimes clanging to hefty winds,

An eerie mystical qualm to passersby

Wanting to see what moods lurk within

This house of stone by the highway.

Does anyone live in the house of stone?

None the traveler has often seen

A clip and snip about the lawn,

Though the traveler would have as is,

This ever desire to meet the neighbor within

To tell of moods grown into love

This quaint stone house by the highway.

Olden the boxwoods grow each passing year,

Glowing with green that last ancient touch,

Sort of removed to the greeting path

Where eagles spread their wings to greet

Either to fright or to natured whims

Where once a love had possessed

The environs to this house of stone.

The great arched door is ever closed,

A prisoner to giant rusty hinge,

Chilling even the occupant within

When opened to the moody northern wind

Whistling in the touching bowered trees

Wanton to jealously guard the secrets

Within this house of stone by the highway.

There are stories told, though of truth or lie,

Only the occupant can soulfully unwind

If ever a smoke from the chimney does rise,

Telling the traveler someone lives within,

Though the traveler would have otherwise.

It’s sprinkled magic dust from road

Where each one day has mentally lived

In the house of stone by the highway.

THE TALE OF A TORNADO

CHAPTER ONE

T he big blue-and-white van was parked up to the door, waiting for the new house people to be in first.

Mr. Wheels took the big skeleton key and made a big noise while he unlocked the door.

Ray was in first. His footsteps sounded as great big marbles bursting through the floor.

The smell was pleasant at once but had a long-shut-up odor. It smelled like the catnip his mother had bought at the Old Turpin Place.

He opened a door into a room. The door sounded ghostlike as Ray slowly opened it. The sound gave him the shivers. He did not know whether he would like this place or not.

Ray jumped as the moving men said, Move out of the way of the monster. They had a great big headboard. Ray had never noticed this giant bed before. It was solid all across, and it mostly touched the ceiling.

Ray, why don’t you go outdoors for a while until the men finish bringing in the furnishings, called his mother. Her voice sounded like a great big drum. It echoed all over.

He remembered the beautiful big cathedral in Charlotte his parents took him to one Easter. When the priest spoke, it sounded like angels were throwing his voice back to him. The words were hard to listen to. The choir was way overhead. When the organ played, shivers ran up and down his spine. He sat there and listened to the choir as he played a game. He counted how many times the men tried to outshout the women. The women won. The cathedral was the most beautiful place Ray had ever visited.

Ouch! Ouch! Ray shouted out as one of the men put the heavy headboard down on the tip of his shoe. It was high time he listened to his mother’s counsel.

Ray ran a ways into the open field away from the house. His toes still felt the sting of the heavy headboard. His feet almost landed on top of a pretty little green snake. The snake had jumped out of a pokeberry plant right in front of him.

Ray reached down to catch the pretty little green snake by the tail. It looked just like the one his friend had on the street he used to live. His hand was about to close on the garter snake’s tail as a noise made him jump. The call of an owl from the woods nearby had made him change his mind.

The owl is wise, Ray thought. Some snakes are not poisonous, but people may have allergic reactions just the same. They were the words his mother had told him back at the Old Turpin Place. The only reaction Ray received was a bumpy goose-bumped skin.

Looking down at the bottom land, he saw the pond his mother told him about. The vision of the boy and the turtles came to mind. He couldn’t believe some fairy tales do come true.

Across the field, Ray skipped. Coming to the edge of the pond, he sought out a good sitting place. Lots of pinecones were in this place he chose to sit.

He reached over and picked up the biggest pinecone he could find. He thought to himself, This reminds me of a pineapple. He tore it apart and found lots of seeds with wings. An idea came to him. Maybe if I throw some seed out in the water, some turtles or fish will think some bugs have gotten caught in the water. Some bugs do think the reflection of the sky on water is really the sky. They go zoom, zoom, zoom and hit what they think is the door to heaven. But it’s only their fault for being so dumb. The fish are really thankful that the bugs sacrifice themselves.

Ray stopped throwing for a while. He saw other ripples on the water—ripples where he had not thrown anything.

A big shadow moved on the grass beside him. Is it, he nervously thought, some prehistoric monster birds living here on Annie Good Heights!

Almost ready to run for cover, he saw what looked like a great bald eagle, the same bird our country has on the back of a fifty-cent piece.

The eagle flew past Ray and over the pond. Ripples were made in the water wherever the eagle went. Ray watched the eagle. Finally, some shiny piece of something dropped from the eagle’s claws. Ray watched it until it hit the water. Down, down, down went the eagle. He thought the poor eagle had suddenly had a heart attack. To his surprise, the eagle put his feet down. The eagle struggled to go back up with a big fish in its talons.

The eagle went to the other side of the pond and stopped on a limb of a dead tree. Ray watched for a long while as the eagle tore the fish apart. He wondered, Why didn’t the fish see the eagle?

It’s getting dark! Ray thought to himself. I did not think it was that late. The next time I come out here, I’m bringing my binoculars.

Son! Son! Come and get a sandwich, his mother shouted.

"Okay, Mom!

The smell of his sandwich told him it was tuna fish. Sometimes, he did not like tuna fish. This was not one of those times. He kept thinking about one of those big fishes that would one day be in his plate.

The Wheelses went to bed early that night. There would be much to do tomorrow. There would perhaps be well-wishers from the neighborhood to welcome them in. A list of repairs had to be made. Of course, the family would have to investigate those seldom-seen corners of the farm.

Ray was glad for his soft bed that night. The day had been very tiring but exciting. Before he dropped off to sleep, he thought a very deep thought, There’s got to be someone somewhere who makes all good things happen. Thank you, whoever you are. This is the bestest and mostest and goodest place I have ever lived.

Ray Wheels was just like every other boy his age, which was twelve. He watched the Saturday-morning comics on television, especially his favorite ones. His favorite comic told about the goodness of evil until the mighty goodness of good decided enough evil was too much. The end of the cartoon was near. Things got very good to view. It was about this point when the telephone in the other room began to ring.

Ray jumped because he was so excited about what the little evil man was to do when Mighty Good Man appeared on the scene. Ray let the telephone ring four times. The ring of the telephone was not good for his attention to Mighty Good Man. He jumped to his feet and answered the telephone.

Ray did something he had never done before. He lifted the receiver about three inches up and then put it back in place. He did so much wish for no one to disturb him at this moment of excitement on his Saturday-morning comic television program. Ray thought to himself, Mom will be very displeased for me treating a caller so rude.

He was sure glad that he had put the receiver down because the little evil man was to play a trick on Mighty Good Man. The little evil man had dug a pit twenty-five feet deep under a high window. He put a trapdoor over the hole and tied a string to the trapdoor so he could pull it after he jumped so the trapdoor would open when Mighty Good Man jumped. He put a three-foot-thick mattress over the trapdoor before Mighty Good Man came. The little evil man ran up the stairs to the seventh floor of his apartment building with Mighty Good Man at a fingertip reach behind him. The little evil man jumped out of the window and fell on the three-foot-thick mattress. Mighty Good Man saw that the little evil man was not hurt, so he prepared to jump.

Ray jumped right on his feet as the telephone rang again. His mother, who was in the utility room busy with something, said, Son, would you answer the phone?

Ray picked up the receiver and stretched the telephone cord around the door because he wanted to see his program. The cord was not quite long enough for him to peek around the corner.

His mother called from the other room, Who is it, son?

Ray said in an impatient voice, I do not know yet!

If you do not know who is on the line, ask the caller, ‘To whom do I speak?’ said his mother as she stood in the doorway.

Hello, Ray, this is Dick, said the caller over the phone.

Ray began with to whom do, and then he stopped his politeness for he knew by the voice that it was his cousin who lived in Cheesecake Apartments in the city of Detroit, Michigan.

Ray said, Wait. He put the receiver down and peeked around the door into the television room. He did not want to miss the outcome of what was to happen to Mighty Good Man.

Ray was very disappointed. His program was at the end. He ran back to the telephone and said, You sure can mess things up by making a phone call at the wrong time!

Dick said from the other end of the line, You should be glad that I have called because I have some good news.

Ray, who is sad because he missed the end of his program, said, Well, it better be some very, very good news.

We are here, said Dick.

You are here, and here is here. But where is here if where is where? said Ray as he teased.

We are here, Dick shouted over the telephone, in the service station to have a man fill our car with some petrol.

Now, that is really some silly thing to call about, said Ray as he tried to spell a word as he picked some letters on the dial.

Ray, Ray, are you still there! We are about five miles from your house!

Ray was excited as he yelled, Mom, Mom, Dick and Uncle Ted will be here in ten minutes! They are— Ray caught himself. He did not finish because he knew his mother will tell him to do many, many things to help tidy up the house before company saw the house in a mess. He knew from experience the first thing to do will be to empty the garbage and carry out the trash. He also knew that his mother will have him do something he does not like to do until he has plenty of time. That something will be to straighten up his room.

Mrs. Wheels ran into the room and said, Did you say Uncle Ted will be here in ten minutes? Hand me the phone.

I have already hung up, Mom, said Ray in a puzzled tone of voice. Yes, I said Dick and Uncle Ted are at Mr. Toiler to get a fill-up.

Ray’s mother ran her fingers through her hair and made the kind of face she usually makes when she does not know what to do. Okay, Mom. I will empty the garbage and trash while you straighten up my room, said Ray as he went about his self-appointed chore.

Before Ray could get back to the back steps, Uncle Ted pulled into the driveway. Ray likes Uncle Ted after Uncle Ted gets settled down, but not before. Uncle Ted said hello in a not-too-good of a way, so Ray thinks. Uncle Ted took Ray’s head and scrubbed Ray’s scalp with his knuckles, and he always says afterward, Just had to get that frog out of your hair!

Dick’s mother said in