The Bluestone Review 2020

The Bluestone Review 2020

Prose

Brother Time By William Bailey

Summer was almost gone when my brother arrived late one afternoon last year. He had been in medical school all summer. He was stressed and irritable after many days and nights of studying for exams and presentations. He called and asked if I would meet him at our farm for an evening of fishing and frog gigging. I was delighted. Luke had been so busy with college, his wedding, and then medical school, that I rarely ever saw him. I was excited to finally get some time relaxing and fishing with my older brother. We met at the pond buried deep in the woods alongside the edge of our family farm. The afternoon sun was low in the sky, but the heat and humidity of the Alabama summer was sweltering. Luke had come prepared with bait and beer. I found the gigs and reels in the barn along with a basket for our catch. I ran to meet him in a sweaty hug. We tugged the small flat-bottom boat into the green water and hopped aboard while balancing the gear and the beer as we wobbled. We had spent a lot of our time at this pond when we were younger; skipping rocks, climbing trees, and shooting snakes. We fell into a silent, but comfort- able, paddle around the dark water. Luke drank his beer and cast his line while I paddled and looked for cool spots under the hanging branches. The frogs seemed to be anxiously awaiting the arrival of the evening darkness as they croaked and sang and watched us from the bank. I watched Luke as the beer and the calm of the afternoon washed the stress from his face. He grinned at me. The sun slid away, the night sky filled with stars, and the frogs continued to sing to us as we wobbled in the little boat. Time stood still for me. I listened to his stories. He listened to mine. Although it was just an afternoon fishing trip with my brother, the time spent… just two adult boys in a boat; continues to make me hopeful for many more afternoons with him in the future. Life: A Three-Part Story By Ashley Bauer Silence The chest was not moving. The heart was not beating. The body was failing in total silence. The pierce of the ambulance siren, the sound of people yelling to start CPR; but still silence. Three daughters crying, a worried husband, frantic medical personnel whose only hope was the silence going away. The slam of the ambulance doors, the medical equipment coming alive with the roar of engines; but still silence. Her shirt was ripped off as if it was burning her skin. Tubes, stickers, breathing tubes, IVs, were all pushed into her failing body. Still silence. She had been dead for ten minutes. The heart monitor was plugged in. Men were pushing on her chest as hard as they could to try and kickstart what was gone. Silence. “God, save this woman,” an EMT whispered. Beep. Beep. Beep. The chest rose. Beep. Beep. Beep. The silence was gone.

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