Stories - FD Thornton

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...

  I’m about done with my Sunday morning chores. I got the sheets off the bed to wash, got my medicine took, lite my candle, cracked opened windows (to let out evil spirits), and called my father-in-law (to check on some old evil spirits). But seriously there’s been a steady rain last night and the weatherman has been promising me snow all week. About 0.02” to be exact. You can stop laughing now all my snow bound bird friends up North. But the rain has made the stale air of a Southern Winter smell a little sweeter, so thanks Canada for that. While the final rinse on the washer sounds like a jet fighter shutting down. The breeze outside is picking up, but still no flakes. But just like a humid summer’s day is to a Canadian, a little accumulation of snow or ice is kryptonite to a Southerner. So while we laugh, we both know our limitations. Funny how life usually even’s things out in the end, knowing our weakness’ and our adaptability. So in conclusion let us all have a good belly ...

  Still a little weary from yesterday’s rot. My brain is still unloading the damaged files of my life. I just got back from the barber shop getting my son and myself a much-needed haircut. So I’m sitting here with a little smell-good on my neck listening to someone down the road with a back-up horn beeping away. After a healthy, normal conversation at the barber shop about grandbabies, old sugar cane mills, and pea shellers, it was nice to have a pointless conversation face-to-face with strangers. It reminds me of the long summer days swatting gnats and talking bullshit around the cabins back at Uncle Shed’s Fishcamp. Even back in the 70’s and the 80’s it was a trip back in time to a place where city folk could rent a cabin, a john boat, a paddle, and even tackle to fish on the Ogeechee River. By the time I got there, there were still a few people renting cabins or using the boat ramp to put out. So the conversations were varied and lively, talked with old friends of the campgrou...

  I caught wind of a sweet scent coming from the window. Being that it is early January I highly doubt it being a flower. Maybe it’s the lingering perfume of our neighbor walking her dog. Or maybe it’s just me after taking a hot shower. Who knows? But it was a pleasant scent all the same. There it is again, dancing on the tip of my nose. Reminding me that no matter how grey the sky is, there’s always a scent of optimism lingering in the air. It’s what I try to find on most mornings when my mind hasn’t already been invaded by the fear that often overtakes our day. By finding that quiet space, rather through prayer or meditation, the sincerity of the moment overcomes the fear. While sitting here I had to switch my legs for a moment. My left leg felt hyper-extended so switching them over eased the pain. Not much different than when life’s learned habits begin to strain and it’s time to do something different. So while my pleasant little nose tease remains a mystery. I don’t worry ...

Military Base in Venezuela    I woke up early this morning reading the news in the NYT (that heathen leftist newspaper). In it I read about some of the questionable actions our leadership has taken overseas. Along with the tragedy in Switzerland and an article on H1B visas and the potential harm in closing them down. (You know the normal leftist liberal faire). But here in America you take the good with the bad, because that’s the rules we are supposed to play by. But for many of my nationalist brothers and sisters, the road to freedom is paved with a “my way or the highway attitude”.  Blindly following a very specific set of rules that the constitution protects against. But I digress, you think what you want to think. Just as long as you’re not stomping on my flowers that my no trespassing sign tells you not to do. We are a country of laws and not just personal opinions. But is nice to know that certain rules can be changed if they are deemed wrong. So take from t...

  After dropping my pills and drinking my magic potion that keeps my poop stuck together. I stared out the window for a moment at the same glaring bright sun I did yesterday. I watched thousands of people in Times Square watch a glass ball drop to announce a New Year with a bunch of folks kissing and singing an old song they didn’t know the words to and then walk away. Outside I heard fireworks going off for the next half hour then it all seemed to go silent. While my wife lay next to me fast asleep. So here I am on this New Year’s Day with one bird chirping outside the window and hangover cast of Good Morning America talking through the walls. Beneath my computer monitor is a couple of bracelets I used to wear. One with glass beads and a craved blue turtle and another with wooden blocks with my children’s initials on them. Along with two glass turtles I brought at the Turtle Center years ago. All surrounded by various prescription drugs I stated and stopped taking over the past ...