Member-only story
Medusa
A short story of adventure in a small town
“What’re we gonna do, Niko?” Nine-year-old Chris glanced down at his brother as the two trudged home from the school bus stop.
Eight-year-old Niko’s hazel eyes met Chris’s brown ones. The boys looked like two cookies from the same cutter but decorated with different icing. Nearly the same size, definitely the same sturdy shape, only their coloring varied. Chris had his father’s black, curly hair and dark eyes. Nick’s hair was light brown and wavy and his eyes, hazel in a half-hearted nod to their mother’s blondness.
“Daddy’s birthday is next week. We ain’t got no money. Never do. What can we give him?” said Chris. He kicked a small stone into the ditch running alongside the gravel road. The white rubber toes of his black high-tops bore the scuffs of many such boyish actions.
“I ‘spect we can make him something. Like we did last year. Whittle another bird or maybe a horse. He’d like that,” said Niko.
“But we already did that plenty of times. I want to buy him a gift. Maybe a book. They got a lot of books in town. McCrory’s store must have one about those heroes and gods and goddesses he likes to talk about. He’s only got his Greek Bible and that English book about Greek history, and he reads most every night after dinner. Must get sick of reading the Bible all the time.”
