Memories are Made of This...
by
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1st Excerpt
The boy moved to the tire prison and dropped the outlaw within, forcing it to join the others. Alas, it would be counted as a regular capture but the latest captive was by far the smallest, in spite of being toughest. Indeed, it was less than half the size of the other mice.
But, what was this?
All the mice scrambled to the edge of their prison, squealing in panic. They seemed to want to get as far away from the new arrival as possible. They were panicked. How could Billy the Kid be so mean as to be upsetting even to fellow outlaws?
The pointed face of the Kid danced from mouse to mouse, evaluating the situation carefully. Then a smile seemed to cross that sharp face and the animal attacked the nearest mouse.
What was happening? The vicious stranger was by far the smallest prisoner yet he attacked with wanton disregard for his well being. It was little wonder that the other prisoners seemed transfixed with fear.
Being soft hearted toward all animals, the boy could not hold his captives and observe the carnage happening before his very gaze. Quickly, he lifted the edge of the tire prison and mice scattered in all directions with Billy the Kid in hot pursuit.
2nd Excerpt
The Ford was washed, started and made it’s way to the neighbour’s, the body was laid carefully on the back seat, Jake and two neighbours climbed into the front seat and they were off to the mortuary.
All went smoothly until they neared town. At that point, a police officer noticed that the car seemed to be swerving its way down main-street uncontrollably. The swerving was the result of attempts to avert potholes on the road, but the officer thought it could be the result of drinking. He pulled the Ford over and approached the vehicle.
“You boys been drinking?” the policeman asked.
His approach and the body in the back seat made Jake very, very nervous.
“N…N…N…No, o….o…officer,” Jake replied. “W...W…W…We’re fine.”
With that the lawman looked into the back seat at the sprawled figure of a man.
“What about him?” he asked.
“Du-Du- Don’t worry ‘bout him, o-o-o-officer,” stuttered Jake.
“H-H-H-He’s dead!”
3rd Excerpt
The children ran to the barn to watch the horses being fed and watered. Only something seemed wrong. Hardy man, with his friendly smile, wasn’t hurrying.
“Aren’t you hungry?” He was asked.
“Yes,” Hardy replied, “But a man only earns his feed if he’s worked a full day.”
At supper time, Hardy, true to his word, did not enter the cook house. Instead, he sat on the porch playing with the dog until everyone had finished eating.
The children, finishing supper quickly, rushed out to speak with the big man. In the next few minutes, many questions were asked. “Why aren’t the palms of your hands black? Why are you so big? Why do you have white spots on your arm? Why is your hair white?”
Hardy, in his inimitable manner, attempted to answer the questions as they asked them. He told everyone about his color and his hands, but the children were certain he had worked so hard the black had rubbed off. Most intriguing were the white marks on his arm. Time after time, he was asked about them but Hardy wasn’t ready to offer any explanation.
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About the Book
In the short life span of the average adult, we have watched the first satellite being launched into outer-space, saw man walking on the moon, space travel becoming common place and computers taking a prominent place in our life. But our grand parents struggled with their day to day existence and strove toward happiness amid what we would consider today as the very basics of life’s fiber. Within Memories, the reader is offered the opportunity to sit back, relax and take a trip into the past. To some, this will be a nostalgic journey, while others will gain a new experience. Whatever the case, only enjoyment awaits the reader within its pages.
About the Author
Growing up in a farming community without modern facilities in the ‘40s and ‘50s, it was common place for children to entertain themselves through reading or listening to their elders tell tales of the past. At a very early age, Jay Bernard discovered he had the gift of story telling and soon joined the group. Even the seasoned story tellers agreed he could wind a good tale.
Working as a teacher he found his students bored with the stories in their ‘readers’ but fascinated with his tales. He began to relay long forgotten tales of his youth and with much urging from his classes, he put his talents to work and began to write stories the children found entertaining. His story telling and writing ability began to make education a more fulfilling experience both personally and for those with whom he worked.
As time passed, a collection of these stories became necessary as the students demanded a weekly story hour. With the demand to write stories, the love of spinning a good tale, the fulfillment of written expression and the enjoyment of adding enrichment and entertainment to the lives of others returned and now appears in book form.
Future endeavors will include a collection of short stories, Wings and Strings and other things and a novel where he takes a lengthy journey by horseback like the cowhands of old and writes of awaiting experiences.