9 Short Stories

By Tom Willison

A boxer on a street corner, Confederate soldiers skidoo from Gettysburg, a chess prodigy from Mars, a masked man with a bull whip that hunts down Civil War bushwhackers, a broken heart, and other fast-moving short stories comprise the contents of this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504906296

Tom Willison

A very prolific author and artist, Tom Willison was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He served two years on active duty as a transportation officer in the US Army, and six years with the Pennsylvania National Guard as an artillery officer. He is the author of two previous novels, The Hunt and Slipstream, some elements of which are borrowed for this book of short stories. He now resides in Indianapolis, Indiana, with his wife, Nancy.

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© 2015 by Tom Willison. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/10/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-0630-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-0628-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-0629-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015905704

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Foreword

The Corner

The Hole

Opposition

The Return of Sparrowman

Withered Rose

Gray Knight

The Bridge

Another Town

Silent Night, Holy Night

Postscript

Foreword

I’ve always been told that you write about what you are familiar with; fact or fiction. That’s what I’ve done in this book.

I really did see a young man shadow boxing on the corner of Georgetown Road and 71st Street, in Indianapolis, Indiana, and thought what a great story it would make.

There really was a hole in the bushes in our back yard when I was small.

I knew Madelyn as Joan, and she really was an outstanding artist.

Opposition was a spin-off from my second novel, Slipstream.

Gray Knight was an illustrated novel I wrote many years ago.

There really was a Chuck Morland gang and two home-made Sparrow comic books featuring that protector of the weak and feeble, Sparrowman.

In Another Town, I really did deliver magazines to a three star family during World War Two, and two of them really did go from blue to gold.

The Bridge is mostly fiction, but I really was a disc jockey at a radio station in Knoxville, Tennessee.

Finally, Silent Night, Holy Night was originally meant to be a stage play I wrote some years ago.

So the beat goes on. This book brings back many memories…some good, some not so good, but, hey, I survived.

Read on and enjoy!

Tom Willison

THE CORNER

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I’m a sports writer for the Indianapolis Courier. I first saw him a few weeks ago. He was tall…say 230 pounds; was muscular and well built. He was a tan Afro-American…. kinda reminded me of the Bronx Bomber, Joe Louis, and he was shadow boxing on the corner of Georgetown and Seventy-First Street. He had boxed before… his moves were professional, but he was a danger to traffic and to himself.

There was an Arby’s diner nearby and the people eating there and looking at him through the window would laugh at his antics. The poor guy had a problem, but it seemed nobody understood that or gave him any pity. I worried about the guy. He could get hit by a car, or cause a traffic accident, so I called the County Sheriff.

Oh yeah, that’s Mike Shannon, he said over the phone, The Oak View Sanitarium reported him missing. He’s quite a distance from there. How he got there I couldn’t guess, but we’re glad you called. We’ll be right out and pick him up.

When he arrived, he introduced himself as Deputy Sheriff, Randy Ralston. I talked him into joining me in Arbys for a sandwich and drink. We sat across from each other munching on a grilled chicken and bacon. Between bites, Officer Ralston said, This Shannon kid is quite a story. He might be a great series for you to write about.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my note pad. Got time to tell it to me?, I asked.

Sure! Just remember who gave it to you.

We gazed out the window watching the shadow boxer work. I shook my head.

Don’t you worry that he’ll get hit? I asked.

A sip of Coke and a smile.

Nah, he’s done this several times in different places and he ain’t got run over yet.

How the hell does he get away from the sanitarium?

Don’t let what you see, fool yuh. This kid is damaged property, but he’s clever. He’s driven the sanitarium people crazy!

Okay, Tell me about him.

You’ve heard it before. No father. Mother working just to put food on the table. ‘Gets with the wrong crowd and …… bingo! Jail time. Basically, a good kid, but at this stage trouble is his middle name. Then one day, Will Daily, one of our long time Deputies, breaks up a street fight between Shannon and another kid.

‘You wanna fight?’ Daily shouts to our guy, ‘I can take you to a place where you can fight to your hearts content!’

So he drags the kid off to The Title Boxing Club in Glendale. Ever been there?

No, I responded, but I’ve heard a lot about it.

Ralston finished his sandwich and leaned back to light a cigarette.

Us cops have a real interest in the place, ‘cause it’s where we take the trouble makers… but ones we think can be rehabbed with a little love and care.

A drag on the cigarette and a cloud of smoke.

The club’s got everything. A couple of rings, bags, exercise machines…. you name it, they got it. They even have couple of gals workin’ out there. It’s a busy place

I glanced nervously out the window. He was still there, shadow boxing at the edge of the road on the corner of the two streets. Well, if Ralston wasn’t worried, why should I be.

Shannon was just another kid there…. until he got into the ring. He was awkward; no balance, no moves, but boy could he punch! His sparring partner had his way with him for a minute or two. Then he walked into the kid’s left hook and down he went. Not just down… he was out cold!

The waitress came to our table and asked if we wanted anything else. The restaurant wasn’t crowded by now, so they didn’t need the table. We ordered more coffee.

"One of the club trainers, Bayle Carter, took notice and stepped into the ring.

‘You’re not supposed to knock your sparring partner out, Kid! Just spar with him. Practice moves…if yuh got any…which yuh don’t.’

Carter took an interest in the kid and began working with him on the basics of boxing… how to move; the proper stances, use of his arms, workin’ on the bags, et cetera, et cetera. Don’t laugh, but he even put one of the gals in the ring with him to teach him finesse, but he refused to fight her.

Ralston asked for another coffee. He looked at my note pad… How we doin?

He went on to tell how Carter developed the kid into a pretty respectable boxer. Then this city slicker guy comes into the club one day and is impressed enough with Shannon that he offers to buy his contract.

"Carter tells the guy there isn’t any contract, so this guy…Tellesnic…I think his name was…offered ten grand to be his manager. That’s a tempting amount of money, so Carter agreed as long as he stayed as trainer.’

Suddenly a van with Oak View Hospital printed on the side, pulled up behind Shannon. Two attendants jumped out and calmly approached him. I called Ralston’s attention to it.

Okay, I gotta accompany them guys to the sanitarium to make a report.

There’s gotta be more to this story! I’ll follow you and we can talk some more, I said.

It’s okay with me, Ralston said, I’m off duty after I do the report.

Oak Hill is located several miles to the north of Indianapolis. It sits on fifty two acres of ground and features three buildings, one of which was the main hospital. Shannon didn’t resist being taken back there, I guess because he thought he could get out any time he wanted to.

They took him to his room, which strangely enough had a small built-in ring, to make him feel at home. That’s where his bed was,