JOHNNY'S STORYA Story by Marie Johnny never really had a home... “Name him John,” the exhausted mother whispered. She was able to kiss her newborn son just before she died. Mrs. Mott, the midwife, cleaned the child thoroughly, wrapped him in a blanket, and put him in a basket by the fire. What am I to do with you? she wondered. There’s no man here. And the girl didn’t speak of relations…
She decided to give Johnny to Paula Dixon. Her month-old baby had died suddenly in its crib, and she still had milk.
Paula cared for Johnny until he was weaned. But she couldn’t stop grieving for her own, and passed Johnny on to the Carletons. They were childless and desperately wanted a baby. Mrs. Carleton was happy with Johnny, until she conceived. The Carletons realized there wasn’t room in their lives or hearts for more than one child, especially not one of their blood…
So Johnny went to Mrs. Sedgwick, a retired school teacher who kept children who had no homes. She was paid a small stipend by the state for each one. Mrs. Sedgwick wasn’t able to give much individual attention, but she fed and clothed them well and read the Bible to them every night. Then inspectors came and closed her down, claiming that her space was inadequate for so many children.
Most of the children were sent to an orphanage, John among them. It too was inadequate for so many, but the state didn’t have to pay out any money. The food was sparse and poor, the second hand clothes ragged. The rules were stringent, and punishments were harsh, even for the slightest infraction. The big children tormented the little ones. When Johnny was big himself, he was placed with a farmer named Joe Bradley. The farmer worked Johnny hard but was kind to him in his own way and taught him to read and write and do simple sums. Then Joe suffered a massive heart attack and died. Johnny was big enough now to work the farm himself, with the help of one hired man. But Joe’s relatives didn’t want the land, and they didn’t want Johnny.
He didn’t go back to the orphanage but started living on the street with a gang of teenage boys. They were fairly harmless--did little more than spray graffiti here and there and do some panhandling. One night there was a turf dispute with a rival gang. Someone produced a knife. Suddenly there were tire chains. Bricks were thrown. By the time the police arrived and broke it up, two boys were dead and five injured. The others, including Johnny, were taken into custody.
He was still too young to be tried as an adult, so Johnny was put into a juvenile detention center. He spent two years there, and his education was completed. He learned how to be a criminal.
When Johnny “graduated” he joined another gang. These were not teenagers, nor were they harmless. Johnny made a friend named Ormy, who decided to help the learning process. “Let me see your arm, Bro,” he said. Johnny drew back. “I don’t think so.”
“Hey--it’s be the greatest thing that ever happened to you. Trust me. What you got to lose?”
“Nothing I guess.” And Johnny rolled up his sleeve, felt the prick of a needle…
Ormy was right. This was the greatest thing ever. Johnny soared through clouds of peace he’d never known. In the distance he heard a voice calling to him: “John?”
“Mother…!” he whispered. And found his home at last. © 2015 MarieReviews
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MarieSan Antonio, TXAboutI have been writing for almost 60 years. Writers' Cafe is the best writing site I've found. If you send me read requests, expect me to be blunt. I don't like poor grammar, misspelled words or mistake.. more..Writing
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