STICKS AND STONES ~ A story for @RBwood’s Word Count Podcast

The prompt for the latest episode of R.B. Wood’s Word Count Podcast asked that we use the month of July and the picture below in our setting. Of note, R.B. Wood took this photo while hiking in Zion National Park, Utah. This is the beginning of the Narrows hike, where previous hikers sometimes leave their walking sticks for future hikers.

My story inspiration

The current state of politics inspired this allegorical tale, along with the old saying “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.”

You may recognize the boy in the story. 😉

You can also listen to me reading the story on episode 68 of R.B. Wood’s podcast.

flourish

The boy’s three-foot wiry frame is small for someone his age. Judging from how he is dragged along more quickly than he can walk, his arm must hurt. He seems unable to pull away, or perhaps he is afraid to let go of the large hand gripping his.

People around him are carrying walking sticks to navigate the stone-filled muddy river. Some even use two poles to help with their balance. Flash flooding is not uncommon on this leg of the hike.

The boy runs to keep step with his father and trips on a rock. He is wet up to his waist before Fred yanks him up by the arm.

“Look what you’ve done. You’re soaked!” The large man shakes the child like a wet rag.

“Oww, my arm hurts!” The boy appears on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to walk anymore,” he whines.

“Don’t you cry, don’t you dare cry. Crying is for babies!”

The boy stands in the river, his chest heaving. He passes his forearm across his face and swallows his tears. “I’m not crying.”

“Don’t ever embarrass me in public. You are not a girl. Only girls cry, you hear?”

“Yes sir.”

Inside the Narrows, Zion National Park’s most popular trail, Fred pushes out an exasperated breath. The park is swarming with tourists. He thought he could avoid the crowds by catching an early shuttle—but not today. He can’t even visit one of America’s most beautiful parks without an infestation of foreigners.

Just then, a family of questionable background walks by single-file. They look Mexican or Asian, not American anyway. They speak to each other in some annoying language he cannot understand. Under his breath, he curses, “Fucking immigrants.”

One of the kids, a girl of about twelve must have heard him. She turns in his direction and stands tall. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.” Though each word is spewed at him with disgust, her eyes convey pain.

The girl’s mother pulls her away. She is less defiant than her daughter. “Kimmy, don’t cause trouble, come on.”

“But Mom, that man called us …”

“Never mind what he said, just leave him alone.”

Fred looks on as the family moves away from him.

“Dad, what did she say to you?” the young boy asks.

Fred takes some satisfaction in scaring off the foreigners. If he were not clearly outnumbered in this tourist spot, he would have happily told them to go back where they came from. He kneels until he is eye-level with his son. “You see, Donald, that girl is an example of a child who does not listen. In the old days, children who did not obey their parents would be beaten by sticks and stones. It broke their bones, but they learned to behave. Calling a child a name like idiot or stupid is not enough. Do you understand?”

Donald wrinkles his nose. “I think so.”

Fred picks up his son and continues on the trail. The July heat is relentless, but walking in the water cools him down. Even though Donald is only six, Fred has big plans for him. Donald will take over his business one day, but not before he learns the ways of the world. No way is he leaving his life’s work to someone who does not share his values or his love of country.

Fred will give his son everything he can, but more importantly, he will provide a strong foundation for him as a man. Like him, little Donald will grow up to be a confident ladies’ man, a strong negotiator, and a world-class leader.

That will be his legacy to this son.

Donald squirms in his father’s arms, and Fred stops mid-stride. “Do you want to come down?”

“Yes, sir, I feel better now.”

“Are you sure?” Fred says.

“Yes, I want to walk with a stick like everybody else.”

Fred lowers Donald until the child is ankle-deep in the river. “You will walk, but you are not like everybody else, you hear?”

“Yes sir.”

Fred finds a large stick. “This should be the right size for you,” he says. “Not too big for my boy, right?”

Donald grabs the stick with his little hands. A wide grin stretches across his face. “No sir, it’s not too big. No stick is too big for me to handle.”

flourish

Thank you for reading and/or listening. Feel free to leave a comment or question. Feedback, whether good or bad is always welcome.

~eden

**

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7 Comments

Filed under Short Stories & Poetry

7 responses to “STICKS AND STONES ~ A story for @RBwood’s Word Count Podcast

  1. Very creative- though I doubt Fred and Donald ever hiked anywhere.

    I sometimes wonder how the world would be if Donnie’s grandpa drank his way to an early grave instead of having children.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Well done! I sometimes wonder what went on in his childhood that shaped his views.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Well, the old saying “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” applies. His father (Fred Trump) was a slum lord and a racist. He did not rent to black people and was taken to court over his intolerance and bigotry. It’s not a nice history, and unfortunately, the story continues with his son.

      Like

  3. After reading your delightful flash fiction, I doubled up on my pleasure by listening to the podcast reading. It gave me the added benefit of hearing the (excellent) reading voice that went with the face that went with the writing.

    In reading and listening, I was struck at one point when Fred gave Donald the hilariously fallacious and trumped up (pun intended) definition of “sticks and stones.” Why, I wondered, would Donald say he understood his Father’s words, when clearly he didn’t–he couldn’t–because they were nonsensical. It was at that moment that I realized Donald learned a greater lesson, and learned it very well: “Make the most egregious, foolhardy statement, but with outward swagger and inward confidence in its correctness and there will be enough little Donnies around you to buffer you up … perhaps even get you elected to the highest post in the land. Thank God there are enough people willing to stand up and say, “No, Father, I don’t understand it at all. Run the premise by me again …”

    Eden, thank you for emerging from your garden (get it?) and posting this.

    Jay

    Liked by 1 person

    • Jay, thank you for your epic comment. What a lovely surprise to read it. Good to meet you as well. The story was, as I’m sure you gathered, tongue in cheek. As a Canadian, I am appalled by who is ruling my neighbouring country. I have friends and family in the U.S. and it breaks my heart to know the hardship many of them are having with their leader. As I don’t enter into political debates on public forums such as Facebook and Twitter, this was a back-handed attempt to share what I thought of him. Can you tell I’m not a fan? I cannot even write his name, let alone call him President.

      Thanks again for reading, listening, and sharing your thoughts. It’s much appreciated and I will definitely connect to you on your platforms as well,

      eden

      Like

      • What a joy, Eden, to have you visit my blog and sign on. Doubly a joy knowing you are from Canada. Daily, I listen to Zoomer radio which airs, I believe, out of Ontario. I have many friends on a writing site I’m on who live in Canada, and all feel a real bond with America and her people. I am actually apolitical. Nothing bores me more than to have someone corner me and talk politics.

        All that said, I’m thrilled to launch a blogging relationship with you.

        Keep writing.

        Liked by 1 person

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