In later times we feasted on those cherished memories , hungering for stories and thoughts of back when life was a joy , an ecstasy even . Visitors would come and go from our little huts but not before they told a tale or two of the way life had been . We fed them , they told us stories . " My family lived by a railway track in an old house that had once belonged to a signalman . In the days before the darkness my father would sit out on the old wooden seat and wave as the trains passed . Before long my parents had children - me and my brother and three sisters , and each of us would join our father waving at the trains as they travelled by our house . He called us the ' railway children ' , just like the old book that had once stood on his shelf beside his bed . " When the darkness came and the trains no longer travelled along the tracks , my father would still get us to sit as a family and wave at non - existent trains . He would describe them in the greatest of details . ' Look , ' he would say . ' There are people waving back , the lady with the green hat , see how she waves at us ? Look at the little boy laughing as he plays with his toys . ' And I could see them in my head , all the people he talked about who rode upon the imaginary trains that passed us by . " When my father took his last train journey , we still kept up the joy of sitting on the wooden bench and waving at the trains . Each of us would take it in turn to describe some passenger who was waving from the window . You might think my father was a little mad in what he had us do , but I tell you this , it kept us together and it kept us sane , and it made us think of the old days . " Those times were like having water . You always assume that it will be there until it dies off or runs out . Then you can never quench your thirst . " They had no need to worry where their next research dollar was coming from , indeed none of the team had any need to work for the rest of their lives . The principal was simple although the actual practical solution had taken decades of research : A material that repaired itself . You see it wasn 't so terrible when you put it down on a piece of paper like that . It seemed so innocent , beneficial almost . As with all great ideas there were teething problems . The material , for instance , had to be guarded because of theft . The ' bridgits ' as they became known would hack off a piece of SeRep meaning the bridge would have to repair and replace and then they 'd sell it ( or at least try to ) on the ' Net . Janus Jones was a mid western boy straight out of college and about to set off for the Florida panhandle in a car his Pappy had bought him . The present was not for finishing school but for staying out of jail unlike Kevin , his older brother . Janus could have flown pretty cheaply but he wanted to follow the Mississippi all the way south and then cut across to Tallahassee . Then Kevin jumped in the car . And so the two Jones brothers ( you 'd have sworn they 'd had different fathers ) set off on a trip that would shake their worlds forever . At the trial Kevin , although missing most of his left arm , was still able to act as a credible witness . The way he told things it was as if the brothers had been the innocent victims . That wasn 't totally true . Just before the incident Kevin had driven for several hours south which had let Janus sleep , although with Kevin at the wheel Janus tended not to sleep too soundly . They 'd stopped at the very last bar in Illinois going south to allow Kevin a few beers , Janus drank cola and several of the witnesses had told the court that Kevin had forced Janus to stay , and that Kevin had drank too many beers . That was just Kevin . As they left the car lot , instead of Janus driving , Kevin jumped into the driver 's seat and was beginning to move off . Janus had no choice but to jump in over the rear of the car . Chances are Kevin would have left him for cold , just standing there and let him make his own way home - Kevin had done it before . Kevin drove the car so close to the edge that sparks flew from the girders . Janus ' new car was badly damaged down that side . Not satisfied with this , Kevin started to run the car into the supports causing them to buckle and bend . The cars behind , seeing what had just happened , had managed to swerve around the hole . Kevin swam to shore leaving Janus to sink with his new car . The older boy was way too drunk to try any heroics and was probably lucky just to save himself . " P … l … . e … a … . s … e ! " He said in one of those elongated ways , that folks from town always used . This was Alabama and the way people talked could be used as a weapon , as well as a way into your heart . Tru and Nelle had been friends since they were embryos . The first one born probably waited on the other to arrive . They were close as any two souls could be . Nelle loved Tru 's bouncy hair and Tru loved the fact that Nelle didn 't realise she was a girl . The place they were heading was over on the other side of town , a place her father , Amasa , had told her never to go near . Her mother , on the other hand didn 't care , she never cared about anything Nelle or Tru got up to . Or anything her father did , either . And sure enough , that is exactly what it was . Nelle walked right over to the body just as a wave of decomposing flesh hit her nose . Undeterred , she covered her face with her bottom of her shirt and went in for a closer look . Tru told her that he heard it was a black man who had been chased out of the next town over on account he 'd been cheating . Nelle asked Tru what he 'd been cheating at , was it playing cards or something ? Tru hadn 't heard the rest of the conversation from the boys but he was sure that they had mentioned something about someone 's wife . " He 'd been cheating at cards with someone 's wife , " said Nelle , nodding her head as if she 'd got to the core of the mystery . Not wanting to show any fear , Nelle crawled over and turned the body over . Half of the man 's face had been eaten or bashed in , neither of them were sure . What they were sure of was , that both were just as fascinated by the dead man as each other . Share this : TwitterLinkedInGoogleFacebookTelegramWhatsAppMoreTumblrPinterestRedditLike this : Like Loading . . . 25 Apr 201725 Apr 2017 # bobbystevenson , # shortstory , Bobby Stevenson , Children , Harper Lee , Short Story , Truman Capote2 Comments 1940s , historical , UncategorizedThree Stories 1 . You 're probably asking how I first met her , and I would have to say that it was around sometime in the late 1940s ; down in the boon docks . I asked if I could help and she said sure , I could . I had some coffee and we sat and shared it , sitting on an old crate . She had an almost permanent smile on her face , as if to say , I 'm happy world , just get used to it . Boy did we talk . I told her about my family who lived upstate and how my great - uncle helped invent the automobile . " You must be very proud , " she said in a thick German accent . Sure I was , I told her , sure I was . And her grin became a huge smile . I asked her about her own family , and she said that there weren 't no one left . Then she told me how she got through those days of death and hatred . She said that she would close her eyes for one minute every day . One minute when things were getting really bad and she would remember who she was . It was as simple as that . " Just close your eyes and recite your name and then remember who and what you are . Some things or someone in the universe went to a lot of trouble to get you here . Just think of that . " 2 . The clanking of the train as it went over the gaps in the rail made him think of home . If he closed his eyes , he could still hear the horse and carts passing outside the family home in the west of town . Oh , those days of endless sunshine and hope . Everyone was friendly . Everyone shared . Everyone was in and out of each other 's homes . My son did this , my daughter has achieved that - my , hasn 't your youngest grown . They were the best of days . He would come home from school and there was his mother sitting at the table , smiling , as only she could . No matter how bad the day had been , that smile would melt away any pain and discomfort . Those were the best of times . No doubt about it . He had seen the boy from across the street many times . Now and again he had nodded or even , on occasion , said good morning . The boy and his family had intrigued him greatly . Although they seemed to be very well off for this part of town , they never ever smiled . It had taken him a while to work out what it was that had bothered him about the boy and his people . They didn 't laugh . How strange , he thought . Perhaps , money doesn 't make you happy after all . Then one night as he as staring through the window , he saw that the boy was being whipped by his father . It was severe , but as far as he could see , the boy did not appear to show any pain on his face . He just held the side of the kitchen table tightly and gritted his teeth . The boy looked at him suspiciously , then smiled and said thank you . And as quick as the smile came , it went in again and the boy 's face grew dark . It wasn 't until a week later that he saw the boy standing on the corner of the street and he was sobbing . He said good afternoon to him but the boy turned his face away . He asked the boy how he was doing and the boy grunted that he was okay but could he go away and leave him alone . However this was his good deed for the day and he wanted to help the boy . He gave him his handkerchief that his mother ironed for him every day . The boy eventually took it and wiped the blood from the mark on his face . The boy said thank you then wandered off home . 3 . Everyone called him Papa - that was how he was known in our part of the square . ' Papa , the storyteller ' , to give him his full , well - deserved title . " So it is , and much like you he was full of life itself . And this little strong boy decided to help the oldest woman who lived in their village . For they all lived in the highest of highest mountains and each of them had to help the other . The town was two days ride away and so everyone needed everyone else . The little boy knocked on the old lady 's door . He was nervous - for it was told that she was a witch . At first she shouted ' go away ' because through the years , she had been tormented by some . But the little boy persisted and knocked the door again . This time the old lady , who some say was as old as the moon itself - opened the door . ' What do you want ? ' she asked and the little boy explained that he wanted to help . At first she was unsure but as she asked the boy to do more and more tasks , he seemed to enjoy all of it . ' Why are you helping me ? ' she asked . And the little boy explained that he had been taught that helping others was the only way to live . And so the boy came and helped the old lady , day after day , week after week . Then one day , the old lady said she would reward the little boy , who said it didn 't really matter as helping the lady was all that counted . But she insisted and she told him to close his eyes and in doing so , he could go anywhere he wanted . And sure enough , he closed his eyes and the next thing he knew , he was standing on top of Mount Everest , the highest mountain in the world . Now children I want you to do the same , " Papa said to us all . It was inevitable that one day they would start to see each other in a differing light . One evening Jethro looked at Kitty and saw , not a little friend who needed to be rescued , but a beautiful young girl who needed to be held . And one summer 's day , instead of a little boy who always needed his nose wiped or his tears dried , Kitty saw a strong upstanding boy who she could think of perhaps marrying , one day . There was one crazy dream that they both shared ( Kitty thinks she first read about it in a book ) and it was their wish to go skiing in Central Park in New York City . Neither of them had ever been in another country but this seemed the perfect reason to go . They knew there were only the smallest of hills in the park but that didn 't put either of them off - not one bit . Every winter they would talk about going to New York , and then before they knew it , another year had passed . They were in their sixties when Jethro started to get ill , and it meant that Kitty spent more and more time looking after him . It wasn 't a chore , she just worried about her little boy who had once lived next door to her . One winter , just before the start of December , Jethro shut his eyes for the last time . When Kitty found herself brave enough , she started to sort out Jethro 's things . In an old jacket she found details about a savings account in the little bank at the top of street . When she got to New York it was September , in fact the hottest month since records began - so skiing was out the question . That night she sat in her hotel room and talked to Jethro as she always did , and after telling him she hoped he was well where ever he was , she mentioned the lack of snow . It was just then that a TV show came on about the Guggenheim Museum in New York and it gave her an idea . Share this : TwitterLinkedInGoogleFacebookTelegramWhatsAppMoreTumblrPinterestRedditLike this : Like Loading . . . 24 Apr 201724 Apr 2017 # bobbystevenson , Bobby Stevenson , flash fiction , NewYork , Short Story , thoughtcontrolLeave a comment American , Flash Fiction , Short Story , UncategorizedThe Man From Biloxi The first time I seen him was on 8th Avenue , that must have been around early ' 51 . I mean he was a street man and all , so he played his music a little , he begged for a few cents , and above all , he survived . Some days , he 'd be sitting in that old coffee bar - the one that used to stand on the edge of Hell 's Kitchen . I 'd nod and he 'd call me over and introduce me to his latest friend . Sometimes , it was a writer called Jack Kerouac , or a strange little man out of Wyoming , name of Jackson Pollock . One night , my friend , the man who played the trumpet on 8th Avenue , took me to a night club just north of Central Park . I can 't recall who was playing but as we sat down at a table , my bud introduced me to Miles Davis . Man I had always wanted to meet this cat , but the soul who sat in front of me was drained of life , he was solid gone . This genius was as low as anyone could be . He kept trying to find anyone in the club who could provide him with a little something to get him back on his feet . It was only later I realised that he meant drugs . The Christmas of 1951 was a real freezer as I recall . The snow just lay on the streets and folks dealt with it best they could . My youngest , Albert , slid while trying to cross a street and a bus ran over his leg . I had only turned my back to see where my daughter was , when the accident happened . My boy had struck his head on the way down , and things didn 't look good . Not good at all . The doctor said that we should prepare for the worst . How your life can change in an instant - I mean , you got to hold on to everything and enjoy it . At the hospital I walked to the window to get some air , and as I opened it I could hear the sweet sound of a trumpet 's notes floating in the night . Sure enough , across the street , was my pal playing for my son and my family . His way of saying ' I 'm here for you , buddy ' . The last time I saw my pal was in the summer of 1952 . Albert had made a full recovery and we 'd gone for a walk in Central Park . I remember that day so well as it was over a 100 degrees and folks were falling down all over the place . Share this : TwitterLinkedInGoogleFacebookTelegramWhatsAppMoreTumblrPinterestRedditLike this : Like Loading . . . 24 Apr 201724 Apr 2017 # bobbystevenson , Bobby Stevenson , flash fiction , Short Story , USA2 Comments # Dreams , # hope , # love , Being Different , Being Human , Being Loved , Children 's , family , Flash Fiction , Life , Short Story , UncategorizedThe Boy Who Loved To Handstand Charlie lived in grey house which stood in a grey street which weaved its way through a grey town . He wasn 't an unhappy kid - on the contrary , Charlie saw the world both as beautiful and crazy all at the same time . When Charlie leaned down to get his pencil , two strange things happened . One - all the blood rushed to his head and made him feel really dizzy . Two - the world seemed to take on something other than grey , he still had no idea what it was but for the first time Charlie could see the world in colours . Charlie decided to keep this secret to himself and run all the way home . When he got to his bedroom , he had one last look out in the hall , in case the family were nearby then he went into his room and did a handstand against the wall . Sure enough the world became colourful again , so much nicer than the grey one . One day , when he felt like a walk , Charlie went down to the river and when no one was looking , he stood on his hands and the world seemed right again . That was until a large shadow was cast across his face - he hoped it wasn 't the kids from the other street , he knew they 'd never understand but it wasn 't them . Instead , it was a young girl and what was more surprising was the fact that her face was the right way up . Share this : TwitterLinkedInGoogleFacebookTelegramWhatsAppMoreTumblrPinterestRedditLike this : Like Loading . . . 7 Apr 20177 Apr 2017 # flashfiction , # GrowingUp , # love , # lovestory , Bobby Stevenson , children 's , children 's story , FRiendship , happinessLeave a comment American , Flash Fiction , Short StoryMe and Buzz and Soccer and Filmin ' 1 . Soccer One of the other times that Buzz had a mid - life crisis was that summer when his first hair grew out of his chin . You would have thought that he was Fu Man Choo or somethin ' . I didn 't see Buzz until two days later and by then he was talkin ' real funny like . I 'm thinkin ' to myself , I 've heard this funny talk before and sure enough I remember - right in the middle of the night , I shout out , ' Mary Poppins ' . Buzz sounded like Dick Van Dyke in that movie . I ain 't sure where Buzz got the gun from , but I do remember a story a while back about Buzz 's uncle Joshua who was thrown in jail for holding up a burger joint . Somehow the store owner convinced his uncle Joshua to take some French fries and a soda rather than the contents of the money drawer . Still , he went to jail all the same . I don 't remember any gun being used but I guess that 's where Buzz got it . I 'm just saying , as it would have saved a lot of trouble . I 've never seen a grown man being shot in the bee - hind before but Samuel Brooks hollered and screamed like the world was coming to an end . It was only a bullet in the butt , what was the big problem ? Buzz was hauled in front of Judge Pickering and folks were telling me that Buzz would probably get the electric chair or something . At the time ( I was young then ) I thought giving someone an electric chair was a real strange thing to do . Where would ya keep it ? Anyways , I had filmed the whole thing and we were allowed to show it in court . The judge said it was okay to show a movie . Some folks brought in popcorn . From the movie , you could see that as Buzz was pulling the trigger , he shut his eyes and didn 't really mean to hit anyone . At the end of the movie some of Buzz 's family started clapping - so Buzz got up and took a bow . Which I have to say was pretty cool . Buzz started waving , movie star like , to the folks upstairs in the gallery . Share this : TwitterLinkedInGoogleFacebookTelegramWhatsAppMoreTumblrPinterestRedditLike this : Like Loading . . . 20 Jan 201719 Jan 2017 # bobbystevenson , Bobby Stevenson , Buzz , Short Story1 Comment UncategorizedThe Girl Who Stole A Piece Of The Sun I think I was eight or nine years of age when my Grandma went down the road . At least that 's what my Granddad called it . " Listen sweet - pea , one day I 'll take that walk and later , so will you . We 'll all meet up at the little shack further down the road , just over the first hill . You remember that , I 'll see you there . " And then he put the glass jar in the pond and filled it with water . And just then the sun disappeared and my Granddad told me he had caught a piece of the sun in a jar . Then he put the lid on it . My Granddad took his walk a few years ago , but you know what ? I 've still got that jar with me , the one where we captured a little piece of the sun . And on dark days , I still open the lid . Share this : TwitterLinkedInGoogleFacebookTelegramWhatsAppMoreTumblrPinterestRedditLike this : Like Loading . . . 20 Jan 201719 Jan 2017 # bobbystevenson , # love , Bobby Stevenson , children 's , flash fiction , Grandfather , Sunshine1 Comment UncategorizedThe Proof of God He could do nothing but stare at the paper . Then he re - checked it and checked it again . He was trembling . I mean really shaking . The way you dreamed of something really good happening and then it does , and it never feels real . He 'd only been trying to solve one of the oldest mathematical quandaries when he 'd tripped over this sequence . Perhaps it was meant , the next stage in evolution , the next stage in man 's development . Hey , he was getting a bit ahead of himself . Time to stop shaking , calm down and take stock of what he thought he had on this piece of paper . If he was correct ( and he was starting to think that he was ) , then the Greenock Sequence proved without a shadow of doubt that God had to exist to make the universe work . It explained much about dark energy and dark matter , it explained the whole show . It explained this thing called life and he 'd accidentally found it while looking for something else . Had he been chosen ? What if he was wrong and he was so desperate to be known for something that he was getting it all wrong ? He re - wrote the numbers and the sequence . There wasn 't a doubt , the sequence was correct - God Existed . Perhaps it would stop wars , stop people doubting . He scored through the word ' Greenock ' and put in the word ' God ' - seemed fitting somehow . I mean it was his / her numbers after all . ' The God Sequence ' . He decided to sleep on it one more night and then he 'd take the numbers to someone . The funny thing was , he prayed that night . Since there wasn 't any doubt about the existence , why not have a chat with the deity ? For the first time in years he got down on his knees . " I just wanted to say thanks for this . I mean , thank you from the bottom of my heart . I just wanted to know what I should do next . Amen . " In the morning , which was a glorious one , he had breakfast , got dressed in his best suit and headed off to the local church . He smiled and thought , God knows how to put on a morning . He whistled all the way to the car . He stopped the car outside the nearest church , got out and knocked the door . A foreign looking woman told him that the Holy Father was out back . The priest was out in his garden tending to his roses and as he stood there watching the man of God , he didn 't know whether to shout , hug the man or just cough to let the priest know he was there . He chose the latter . " Throw them on the fire , there 's a good man . Now is it a death or a birth ? Lovely day for either , " laughed the old man . " Why would I need proof ? " Asked the old man . " After all , I talk to the Big Man , every day . Are you saying , I 'm some sort of eejit ? The old man just smiled . " Don 't you see ? If we could prove that God exists there would be no need for faith , and if there was no need for faith , there would be no need for the Church . And if there was no need for the Church , I would be out of a job . So be very careful with what you 've got there . It could harm a lot of people . " He knew he could re - create the numbers again , that wasn 't a problem . He just hadn 't been ready for the way the priest had re - acted . Surely he wasn 't typical of the church ? On clear days I could spot the horizon and that meant everything to me . It was the tallest of houses and the happiest of homes . It was stuffed full to the rafters with sisters and brothers and my mother and father . We helped each other and we supported each other . We made each other smile and sometimes we made each other cry . These were the days which were warmed by the sun and seemed to last forever . In the winter we drank broth and ate stews and hunkered down in the heat of each other 's company , comfortable that the others were there . There were card games , singing , communal cooking and laughter , oh yes , the laughter . There was always someone laughing in that house . When the storms hit the house , it rocked and swayed and the more it rocked and swayed , the more we felt safe . Don 't ask me what I mean by that , just that you had to be there to understand . My Grandpa had built it for the simple reason that he wanted to prove you could build a house on the sand by the sea . There were those in town who said he was a brick short of a chimney but my Grandpa had always believed in himself and so it had happened . And having been built by such a kind soul and even kinder heart meant that the very building seemed to bleed understanding and tolerance . When it swayed in the wind it sang to us , the building actually felt as if it was telling you that nothing was going to harm you . We were just to relax and bend with the wind . There was a writing room or rather I used it to write in it , but my brothers and sisters would read , paint , listen to the radio , have heartfelt discussions about the world and all the stars , in it . I learned a lot of things about life in that room and some things I probably shouldn 't have . I realise now how lucky I was back then , what with all that softness , that gentleness , that amount of caring from my family ; all of it given to me by some higher force . Boy was I the lucky one . My father and mother taught us to never ever to take anything for granted . To smell the rain , to feel the flowers , to stand on the roof of the house some days and just scream , scream for your very existence . Sometimes I 'd scream for the overwhelming energy that was the world and some times I would scream for all the injustices that we heap on each other ( even on ourselves ) for there is no crueller person in the world than those things we do to our own minds and hearts . It 's like the man said , if we treated other people the way we treated ourselves , we wouldn 't last long . So I wrote and wrote about the way things changed and the way that things stayed the same . I wrote about love and hate and war and peace . Those days were the most perfect of my life . But as I 've written in these pages before , no one ever tells you that you are passing perfection - you only ever see it in the rear view mirror and that 's when you realise that there 's no reverse . Sometimes I would sit with a hand under my chin waiting on the rest of the family to come down , trying to look European ( although I wasn 't real sure what that meant ) . Other times I would sit with Grandpa 's old pipe and stare out to sea as if the meaning of life was somewhere out there to be found . Man , that pipe tasted real bad . Then one morning my father came into breakfast and told everyone to remain calm and not to worry but Grandma had been taken to hospital . She had been my moon and my stars when I was growing up . She was the one who encouraged me to write , who had read Dickens to me and who now would listen to my own stories . In the evening when I was writing I could hear the dance music coming from their gramophone . Boy they loved to dance . When they were younger they would travel the county taking part in competitions . Their room was full to the roof with trophies . When we got up there , boy it was warm and you could see for miles . I turned the handle on the gramophone and put on her favourite tune and then she asked me to dance . I took her hand and I bowed and then we danced as if she was seventeen again . He left a tip on the counter , threw his jacket over his shoulder and walked out into the evening heat . It was growing dark as he drove onto his driveway where he failed to notice the flickering street light swinging above him . When Jethro entered the house , all the commotion stopped . He walked down the hallway just as the telephone started ringing but something told him it was a cold call from an east coast building company , so he just plain ignored it . The little thoughts helped him at times . Like last Easter when he was driving through that blind junction on Madison Street and something told him to press the brake . He had no idea why he stopped but just then some old Chevy came blasting out of Jefferson Lane and it would have split Jethro 's car in two if had he driven straight on . These days he had trouble sleeping and not just with the usual bad thoughts that crawled around in most men 's minds . Things happened to him in the night , strange things , like at 1am every morning the telephone would ring and when he answered it , no one would be there . Right after he put the ' phone down , the smoke detector , that lay on the floor , would start beeping until he picked it up . The thing didn 't have any power for crying out loud . Now don 't get him wrong , these weren 't ghosts or any kind of haunting . Jethro didn 't believe in such things . No , if someone worked that hard at life ( and Jethro felt everyone should get an award for just getting through a single day ) then they weren 't going to hang around afterwards , not when they 'd just been promoted - so ghosts were definitely out of the question . One night he had this thought about an airport and so he switched on his computer . He looked at the flight arrivals and noticed that one of them from South America was delayed and he knew right there and then that the flight was never going to land . Not ever . Some technical fault over Brazil had been the reason for the crash . On Saturday nights if he didn 't go down to the bar , he 'd sit and watch the lottery show on the television . Without thinking he 'd say a number out loud and what do you know ? That number would be chosen . If he tried to concentrate on it , it never happened . He won a couple of hundred , just enough to pay one or two bills and get by until his next pay - day . At least that was the plan , but by Wednesday he was already thinking about the next lottery draw . So even although he still had money in the house , he put on five winning numbers and this time it was several hundred thousand he won . He called the lottery people direct so that no one local would find out . The woman smiled and left Jethro with the thought that this was probably the Reverend 's wife . The room was in the process of being dragged from one century to another . There was garish pink flock wallpaper in a room of furniture that spoke of a more modern taste . He wasn 't and the question annoyed him . How could she dismiss his strangeness , yet spend her life promoting a strangeness of her own . He was sure his experiences were nearer to religion than she was willing to accept . " It could be lots of things causing this " said Maureen . " It could be weather conditions or it could be something electrical in you . It might even be God working in a mysterious way as he 's want to do . It could be a million other things as well . " And that was really all she had to say on the subject . Except when Jethro mentioned that she might use some of the money to fix the room up . She said the money would be put to good use as the flock wallpaper was expensive and so she was decorating real slowly . She couldn 't wait to get rid of all that modern furniture . That was the second thing that surprised him that day , she was transforming the room back the way . His power , whatever it was , wasn 't infallible . He walked along University Street with the second bag of cash but was hesitant about who he should talk to . He read off the different faculties , some he dismissed immediately , some he played with in his head for a while . In the end it came down to Philosophy , Physics or Mathematics and as the first department that he approached was Mathematics , he settled on them . And Jethro had to agree that he 'd got the problem down in one . The kindly man suggested that Jethro take some notes as the professor tended to ramble on and it might be a bit difficult for him to follow . So Jethro took a pad from the professor 's desk and started writing . Words like ' Chaos Theory ' kept coming up again and again . Danny said he wasn 't interested in Jethro 's money . Wasn 't he a friend and wasn 't that what friends did for one another ? Friends listened and they helped each other , they cared . And then they shook hands and that was when Jethro knew everything was going to be alright . In an instance , he saw Danny in the years ahead with a wife , kids and in a poor but happy life . He also saw a photo with Jethro as a godparent holding one of Danny 's children . And he knew things were going to be alright for him too . So what if he was the exception , so what if he didn 't have too many friends ? He had one and that was enough for him , and he had a gift that not too many people had , and he knew that he had to use it for better things than lottery wins . It was all he had ever wanted to do - to be a writer , and now he was walking towards Glasgow University in order to register for a BA in English . Or to be more accurate , they called it ' matriculation ' up there , after all it was the fourth oldest English - speaking University in the world . It had been founded in 1451 and he was the first of his family to ever get so far . " You are , after all involved in life , and you do certain stupid things yourself . So if you are going to stand there and throw stones , at what point of perfection do you stand ? If one is going to be critical without any chance of comeback , it 's like hitting a child " . A HAND turns off the television . It 's Hancock 's . He slumps on the bed in a towel , pours a vodka into a glass and smiles to himself . He picks up the ' phone . You know … . what Sid said about me ? He said … . what was I talking about ? Oh yes , Sid . He said … . that I have the best timing in the business . The very best . There are many EXPECTANT FACES as Hancock and the producer emerge . However this turns to disappointment as the producer supports Hancock from the trailer . He carries him to the set . I hear the contract is for 26 shows . I was thinking I might do it in three batches and head home . See Mum and Joan . What do you think ? Francis turns his back to us in order to wash . On Fran 's back is the strawberry birthmark we saw earlier . It might be older , and more tired , more wrinkled even , but it 's still the same one . Share this : TwitterLinkedInGoogleFacebookTelegramWhatsAppMoreTumblrPinterestRedditLike this : Like Loading . . . 21 Dec 201621 Dec 2016 # bobbystevenson , Bobby Stevenson , Poery , WishesLeave a comment # hope , # love , Being Human , Flash Fiction , happiness , Life , Short StoryThe Morning of the Day … . . She could feel the sun on her heart , as its rays broke through the window . There was a bird , a blackbird , singing in the old twisted trees . She heard the cyclists from the city , shouting to one another as their bikes sailed past her front door . The aroma of the freshly made coffee had skipped the stairs and had , instead , entered her room through a little opened window . There was a quiet tap as a Bee kept hitting on her glass pane , looking for somewhere new to live . She had done with the dull days , and the rain , and the mist that had arrived with the darkness . She had done with avoiding mirrors and reflections . She was finished with treating herself as the enemy , and listening to the sourness of others : their paths were their problems , their responsibilities . Share this : TwitterLinkedInGoogleFacebookTelegramWhatsAppMoreTumblrPinterestRedditLike this : Like Loading . . . 18 Dec 201618 Dec 2016 # shortstory , @ bobbystevenson , Bobby Stevenson , flash fiction , happiness , Life , Short StoryLeave a comment Flash Fiction , Life , Short Story , UncategorizedThe Disappearance of Esther The wind couldn 't decide which way it was going that day , neither could she . Esther had only just got herself the way she liked ( the way the boys liked ) when she stepped out through the door , and a gust of Sheeba desert sand blew in her eyes . One autumn , back in those days when you could count on another person keeping to his word , the wind blew for three days without stopping . It tore at the woodwork , scraped the windows , and kept everyone inside . Wasn 't that the week that Esther 's uncle decided to shoot himself right in the head . Except that the sand jammed his pistol and he got so mad , that when the storm had died down , they had to take him off to a secure place just outside Richmond . Esther was disappointed about the wind , since today was the day she had decided to strut up and down the sidewalk in order to attract a husband . It was her way of getting out from under her Mama 's roof . Her Mama had more time for Jesus , than she had for Esther ( at least that 's what she told anyone who 'd listen ) . Esther was used to all this and making up terrible lies . She 'd tell her Mama that the pastor had told folks to give their children a dime to keep them on the Lord 's road . So Esther 's Mama would give her a dime , just as the pastor had apparently said . When the wind had died a little it was possible for Esther to see up the street as far as the livery building . That was when she saw the big , big car . Man , it was pretty and white . Wind or no wind , Esther decided that the car looked like money and with money came a possible husband . The radio pastor was telling the good folks that God was an angry God , but Esther couldn 't care less as she slammed the door behind her . Hard enough , so that it would waken her Mama . " Well howdee little lady , " he said , as he took his hat off . " I 'm getting this good man here to fix my tire . It got hit by a rock out there in that unkindly desert of yours . " Yeah , he would take her to as far as the next town if that was what she was looking for . She giggled ( just like her Mama did to the man who came for the rent when she had no money ) . She flapped her sand - stinging eyes at him and she was sure he was taking it all in . No wedding ring ( could have taken it off - a lot of these travel business folks did ) - so what if he was , she 'd get what she could out of him and then move on . Share this : TwitterLinkedInGoogleFacebookTelegramWhatsAppMoreTumblrPinterestRedditLike this : Like Loading . . . 15 Dec 201615 Dec 2016 # bobbystevenson , American , Bobby Stevenson , falsh fiction , mystery , thoughtcontrol , USA1 Comment # hope , # love , Being Human , Children 's , Flash Fiction , happiness , Life , Short StoryA Christmas Walk He had always lived in the city . His parents had met there , and his brothers and sisters had been born there . He 'd dreamt of his father again , meaning the he had woken at 3 . 20am in a pool of sweat . Each time that he saw his father , he would bend down to tell his son that everything was all right and that he was good and not to worry . The first few times it had happened he 'd mentioned it to his mother , but it caused her so much pain that he stopped talking about his dreams . His father had worked in the city . Every morning he would cycle to the railway station , take the express into the centre , and then cycle to his office . Then on the dark unforgiving Wednesday a large truck had cut across his path . The driver hadn 't seen him , in fact he couldn 't see him , and the truck hit Andy 's father . Andy remembers his teacher standing at the classroom door , she had just been talking with the school secretary . She turned and looked straight at Andy . Straight into his eyes - straight into his soul . One human being locking hearts with another . It had started snowing on the evening of the Wednesday before . They left very early on the Thursday morning , to ensure they all made it to the house before the snow got heavy . Christmas was not until the Saturday but everyone wanted to get snuggled into the house before the big day . The place was perfect and aunt Alice had chosen well . Andy had to share a bedroom with one of his brothers and one of his cousins , but if he was being honest it felt comfortable . Andy felt a warmth in his heart that he hadn 't felt for a very long time . Andy ran ahead and picked it up . It was a small box , and inside was a little medal . There was an engraving on the back which read ' To the greatest . Saint Andrew 's University - 1998 ' . It was the following day that it happened . His mother was washing some of their holiday clothes and , as usual , had to empty Andy 's trouser pockets . She had found the little box . " Where did you get this ? " She asked her son . Andy told her the story and that was when she almost fainted . Andy had to get her a chair to sit on . " Every year just before the Christmas break , me , your father and the rest of the students would have a cycle race from our rooms to a pub in the centre of Saint Andrew 's . Whoever got there first was given a medal and whoever was last - bought a round of drinks . Your father , with me on the cross - bars , won that race in 1998 . He had it with him the day of his accident and although I searched through his clothes I couldn 't find it . What did the man look like ? " Asked his mother . Share this : TwitterLinkedInGoogleFacebookTelegramWhatsAppMoreTumblrPinterestRedditLike this : Like Loading . . . 15 Nov 201615 Nov 2016 # flashfiction , # hope , # love , # Present , @ bobbystevenson , Bobby Stevenson , Christmas , family , Life , Short Story , thoughtcontrolLeave a comment American , Flash Fiction , Short Story , UncategorizedSanta is a Weirdo Sometimes you just do and sometimes it ain 't happening ; and that pretty much explains my life and everyone I know . I honest to goodness don 't remember what started it all off - I honestly don 't , I swear on the biggest stack of comics - I just remember my ma telling me I wasn 't getting a bicycle for Christmas , ' cause Santa couldn 't get it down the chimney . I remember saying couldn 't he just bring it in the front door and she told me to go to my room . I mean what kind of weirdo only wants to go down peoples ' chimneys . I shouted kinda crazy like through the bedroom door about what happens when a kid ain 't got a chimney but my ma just turned the radio up in the kitchen and didn 't say nothing . I got my bestest bag from the closet and packed a pair of socks ( I might be away for a long time and I might need to change them ) , my toothbrush and my comics . I think that kinda stuff would get anyone through a long time away from home . I stuck some candy bars in too , just in case I got hungry . When I asked the man at the bus station for a ticket to the North Pole , he just told me to step aside and he served the next person . What kinda person does that to a kid ? I ask you . Man it took a long time to get to the big city . I ain 't lyin ' when I tell you that . It was so long that I had eaten all my candy bars by the time we arrived . I looked and looked around the bus station for one goin ' to the North Pole but I couldn 't see nothin ' . I wasn 't gonna go through that ' stand aside and let the next customer come forward ' stuff again , so I decided to go for a walk and think about things . I tell you , it helps real good to take a walk now and again when you 're tryin ' to fix things in your head . More kids should do it and school would be a better place - I kid you not . Then it happened , Santa wasn 't in the North Pole , he was actually standing on the corner of Hoover street and Lansdale Avenue . Now I ain 't gonna kid you . He was just standin ' there lookin ' real shifty and ( get this ) smokin ' a pipe . When I went up to him and said I wanted to complain about somethin ' - he just said out of the side of his mouth ' beat it kid ' - I 'm tellin ' you that 's what he said , ' beat it kid ' . Just then the cops tried to arrest him and Santa and his table with playin ' cards on top - all folded up real quick and he ran away . So you see I am right - Santa is a weirdo . Anyhoo , the cops asked where I was going and I said it didn 't matter anymore ' cause I had told Santa what I wanted to tell him . And the cops ? Well they gave me a ride back home in the cop car . Guess that 's what I 'm gonna be when I grows up . Or maybe a pirate - ain 't sure yet .