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Fiction Short Story

by  Karen Braswell

The Brick

We were playing in the alley near the beat-up garbage cans when I threw the brick in the air and it came down and busted Ricky in the forehead.  We were four or five at the time, barefoot, dirty kids, who had tired of trying to dig our way to the devil with a kitchen spoon, and had resorted to tossing gravel at the battered tin that covered a hole in the garage, and then I had thrown the brick in the air, just to show Ricky that I could do it.

"Watch, Ricky," I said, and then I launched the block into orbit. He watched with his head tilted back, like one would watch an airplane in the sky.

It only took a second for it to land with a thud, right at the tip of Ricky's hairline. The blood flowed immediately, running in rivulets into his eyes and making grotesque paths down his freckled cheeks.

Ricky raced through the back door, screaming, where my momma, who had been pushing clothes through the wringer washing machine, quickly took control and bandaged his head, and then settled him at the table with a Dr. Pepper.

I had a Dr. Pepper, too.

Momma sat down with a beer and a cigarette, and said, "What is Charles going to say about this?"

Charles was Ricky's father, and my mother's husband; even at the tender age when I still believed that innate good existed in all people, I knew he hated the ground I walked on.

I hid underneath the kitchen table when he came home from work.

Later that night, as I lay in my cot at the foot of my parent's bed, his hatred manifested itself in belt welts that stung my back and legs.  The bedroom door was ajar, and light from the hallway fell across Charles' bare feet, sticking out from underneath the covers.  Ricky was resting peacefully on the couch in the living room, the gash on his forehead having been the topic of conversation all evening.  My mother twisted in her sleep.  The metal bedsprings screeched with her every move.  They seemed to groan in agony, like one who is bearing the brunt of too much weight upon them.


About the Author
Karen Braswell is a former newspaper reporter who now concentrates exclusively on fiction writing.  She lives in Virginia with her husband and kids.