JT EVERGREEN SHORT STORIES

What the hell do you mean she’s dying?  I water it, feed it fertilizer, and give it plenty of sunshine, and fresh air. But do you love her? What? You heard me. I heard you, but I don’t believe what I heard. Please answer the question, do you love her? I don’t know; I suppose I do. How the hell do you love a plant? Do you talk to her? No, I don’t talk to it. Are you nuts? There’s the answer to why she’s dying. Because I don’t talk to it? I haven’t talked to it – ever. Does she have a name? A what? A name, n – a – m – e. I don’t know. It’s a jade plant so I guess its name is Jade. That’s like calling you Man, and not a very bright one at that. Well, let’s give her a name. That is really a dumb idea. Perhaps, but give her a name anyway. Why is this so hard for you? Because I feel stupid talking about this damned plant. Okay, I’ll give her a name. No, you won’t. It’s my plant.  I’ll give it a na...

As told by Christopher McIntyre I walked right by it, stopped dead in my tracks and thought,  that’s impossible.   It wasn’t there when I came into town this morning.  I know it wasn’t. I turned around and stared. There was no question in my mind – it wasn’t there earlier. But, there it was, big as life. I walked slowly to the display window. There were books aplenty everywhere. It appeared The Olde Book Shoppe was open for business. So, I walked over to and stood in the open doorway. “Good afternoon, young man. Won’t you come in?” I heard the voice but did not see the person from whom it came. It was a friendly sound, so I took a few steps into the interior of this obviously very old bookshop. As the smell of old wood and dust enveloped me, memories of hiding in my grandparents’ attic came back. It was the same smell. I had spent many happy hours in thei...

As told by her Grandson, Romeo Lombardi Grandma Rose was only ill a few days before she passed away. It was like a knife in my heart when I was told she was gone, a pain I could not show or share with those near me. She was more to me than my own mother who would have been saddened if she knew I cared more for Nama Rose than I did for her. But it was true. They say your life flashes before your eyes at the moment of death. Well, it happens when you lose someone as dear to you as my Nama Rose was to me. The reality that she was gone hit me again as I approached her casket and the vision of her beautiful face came into view. The twenty-one years of my life with her flashed before me in an instant. I wanted to reach out and touch her but my hand trembled, so I withheld it. I was alone and would never see her again, be able to talk to her, be near her. I wanted her to hold me once more, to feel her hands pull me to the comfort of her breast, to hear her soft words that worked mag...