Stories - FD Thornton

It’s 5:30 in the afternoon, supper is simmering on the stove, While outside my office window, I can hear a Norfolk-Southern train carrying empty car carriers back to Brunswick. Even through the double pane windows I can hear the wind howling outside. I could imagine how it would have sounded if we still lived in that shotgun shack back in Alamo. But despite my daughters complaining, I’d much rather pay the higher rent just to stay warm. It’s been a year since we moved into our “deluxe apartment” here. And despite the lack of an apartment manager or a full-time maintenance person, or the pounding of little feet upstairs. Anything’s better than freezing our asses off in that drafty old house with no hot water and 1912 electrical wiring. Some may say, “Don’t you miss the charm of an old farmhouse”? Not when I had to do all the maintenance to the house. While the damn landlord rode around in his golf cart three times a day like a Goddamn prison guard. But I again digress. After stirrin...

Image: Adobe Firefly   When I opened the curtains this morning all I could see was a shabby reflection of myself staring back at me. Gone was my clean shaven face and my combed back hair. And what stood before me was a shaggy faced, uncombed haired old man, in an oversized sweatshirt and mixed matched sweatpants. I looked like an aging frat boy dragging his way to an early morning class, looking about as good as I felt. But that pink strip at the bottom of the skyline was finally giving way to a questionable blue/gray skyline. That hadn’t made up its mind yet, rather it was going to be cloudy or sunny. Feeling like I had something caught in my throat, I cleared the passageway with a grumpy old man cough. But with my gummy vitamins melting in my mouth, I felt like a kid again being rewarded for taking his medicine. Life has a funny way of reminding you of who you are. Rather you’re an office manager, a store clerk, or a Wall Street tycoon. Each day you put your pants on one leg at...

  With supper going and the window cracked open, I’m watching the sunset on another chilly day in South Georgia. I wrote a little story this morning but didn’t publish it, so after printing up about 50 pages of forms I need to fill out. I spent the rest of the day laying on the bed with a heating pad and comforter, doom scrolling the day away. Sitting here now, I swear I can hear kids out at the playground, but I may be wrong. It’s hard to tell with my wife’s TV blaring in the living room.     But such as it is in the life of a man on disability and retirement. Living on a fixed income with most of whatever I saved going to pay old hospital bills and for such luxuries as groceries. But I really don’t mean to be so cynical, it’s just a defensive posture I’ve developed over the years to protect my sanity. But given my history of mental illness, you can see how far that has gotten me.   I don’t mind talking about myself and my many faults, unlike a number of th...

  It’s a bit anti-climactic to spend all this time sorting through my pill bottles, then cutting pills to be divided up, and put into smaller pill bottles. Only to take a few seconds to swallow down the morning’s half and be done with it. I mean you don’t even get to lay back and enjoy a cigarette. You just get up and chew your vitamins then start your day. My Sunday started like most, I was woke up, checked my messages, and called my father-in-law. But with my coffee about gone, it is it’s usual gray and cloudy sky outside, with temperatures in the upper 30’s. I ain’t feeling much any particular way today, I mean after all it’s still morning. Pretty much everyone was prepared for a 45” coating of ice according to the local weather people. Hope they got those car dealers and lawyer ads their money’s worth scaring the Great-Grandmas to death, but I digress. Now with a fresh cup of hot coffee in my hand, I can get down to what I wanted to say. Which is nothing. It’s Sunday mornin...

  After an evening of heavy priestly confessions and a late night of deep sleep, I woke up a bit dazed and confused. For one I ain’t completely woke up yet, even after a hot shower and shave. But the curtains and windows are open, and the crisp cool air is filling my study. My poor old candle has about seen its better days while the sun slowly creeps toward the first windowpane. Then I had to stop writing for a moment to go rescue my stranded adult child that locked their keys in their car.       Anyway I’m about woke up now after listening to my youngin go on about a mile a minute about them and their spouses five-year-plan. It’s kinda funny to me to hear that sort of thing now considering I’m doing good to make moment by moment plans. If there’s one thing I’ve learn in over 60+ years of breathing, it’s that nothing is guaranteed. Ten years ago if you were to tell me that I would be sitting here reasonably healthy. When I had five IVs going at once in the Pulmon...

Sandra Saxon Burnsed   It’s nearly eleven o’clock in the morning, I just got through editing and publishing a piece I wrote a few days back. Other than that, I went to sleep early last night feeling cold and icky, even before the game went off. Last night’s sleep was rough and filled with stress dreams about being dirty from working all night. With no way to shower or a clean change of clothes. So I woke up with that same exhausted feeling, with no motivation to get out of bed.   The story I worked on when I made it to the study was ironically about having a good morning watching the early morning sky. Thankfully, I didn’t let my attitude from this morning cloud my earlier optimistic mood. So now I’m left with my present middle of the month feelings, of upcoming bills and pure boredom. But as you may have figured out already, I use you as my priestly confessional. Often telling you my sad tales of chronic depression and poverty, if for nothing else, to make your own lives se...