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    What Happened to Larry Alan?
    What Happened to Larry Alan?
    What Happened to Larry Alan?
    Ebook77 pages1 hour

    What Happened to Larry Alan?

    By Dawn Kimberly Johnson

    3.5/5

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Judson Heart, like all of us, has some regrets. Not his job: he writes for a daily newspaper. Maybe his introspection: he eats lunch alone. Definitely his timing: he hasn’t had much luck in the love department. With his ten-year reunion approaching, those regrets intensify as he begins to recall a turbulent final year of high school. But with the help of three elderly, mystical strangers and a surprising assignment to interview a prison inmate, Jud may get the chance to make some changes. All he needs to do is find out what happened to Larry Alan.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDreamspinner Press
    Release dateJun 1, 2011
    ISBN9781613720431
    What Happened to Larry Alan?

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    Reviews for What Happened to Larry Alan?

    3.5/5

    6 ratings1 review

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    • 4/5
      I really liked this story about a man who gets to revisit his past. The regret Jud carries about something (and the tension as to what that is carried me nicely through the first part of te story) is palpable. He faces his past with bravery and, in good fantasy/fairy tale tradition, his reward is worth it.

      If you like a bit of mystery, reading about bullies things the way they should be and have wondered about what happened to some of the people in your past, you will probably like this story.

    Book preview

    What Happened to Larry Alan? - Dawn Kimberly Johnson

    What Happened to Larry Alan

    JUD crossed the street and peered around the bus kiosk. Ah, all clear. Relieved, he entered the park and rushed across the grassy field, heading directly to his favorite bench beneath a sugar maple. It wasn’t very cold today, just comfortably crisp, not much of a breeze.

    Heads up, man!

    Jud ducked just as a soccer ball sailed past his head, nearly hitting him.

    Whoa! Good reflexes, the player shouted.

    Jud nodded and smiled weakly, but he kept moving, his focus on getting to his bench. The scrimmage resumed once he’d cleared the field. Reaching his favorite spot, Jud sat down, put his book and sandwich on the worn seat beside him, and took a few moments to settle into his surroundings. There were just two men—late teens, early twenties—knocking the soccer ball back and forth between them. To their left, on the other side of the field and on another bench, sat a young mother, fidgeting with tucking a blanket around a baby in a stroller while trying to keep an eye on an older boy as he ran around, using his finger to shoot any person or squirrel or bird he spotted.

    Another woman approached the first. She had a young girl at her side, clinging to her hand and apparently trying to become part of her mother’s leg. Jud smiled, noticing the little girl’s hair was the color of the leaves shading him, that warm red-gold that a sugar maple gets in autumn. When the sun hits it just right, it appears to be aflame. The girl peered around her mother at the new woman and occasionally glanced nervously at the loud, rowdy boy when he ventured too close.

    Bang! You’re dead! the boy shouted at her, causing her to flinch.

    James, stop that, his mother scolded. That’s no way to make new friends.

    Bang! You’re dead! James said, pointing his finger at his mother before running off. Jud saw the girl release her mother’s hand and step away, turning to watch the boy at play.

    He sighed as he removed his reading glasses from his jacket pocket and picked up his book. He had an hour for lunch, but rarely took that long. He just wanted some quiet time in a lovely setting, just him, his book, and his turkey sub. He would simply read until he was done eating. That was usually enough time to wash the noise and stress of the newsroom out of his head.

    IT DIDN’T take long for Jud to lose himself in the vibrant world of Louis de Bernières’s The War of Don Emmanuel’s Nether Parts. He’d eaten half his sandwich and the sounds of the park had faded: the soccer scrimmage, the mothers chatting, the breeze rustling the leaves above his head, the baby getting fussy and needing attention.

    Then, punching through his quiet, came, You have to fall!

    No! the little girl screeched, bringing Jud’s head up sharply. The children had somehow worked their way closer to him. He glared at the chatting mothers across the field, oblivious within their conversation. He mentally shouted at them to come and corral their ankle-biters, but neither took notice.

    An uncommonly strong and chilly breeze rushed at him, disturbing his thick, floppy black hair and chilling his bones despite his heavy jacket.

    I wonder who will win, a deep, melodious voice said, directly to Jud’s right.

    Huh? Jud’s head snapped toward the voice as if he’d been zapped with electricity. Sitting on the other side of what remained of his sandwich was a handsome older gentleman with lustrous graying hair that seemed to glow in contrast to his dark skin. His face was heavily wrinkled, but he had kind, if intense, brown eyes and an easy smile. He wore jeans, sneakers, a T-shirt, and a charcoal hoodie.

    Pardon me? Jud asked, blinking away the tears the wind had caused.

    The gentleman grinned and pointed a bony but steady finger at the children. Who do you think will win? he asked as he watched the boy shove the girl in an effort to get her to fall down dead after he’d shot her.

    Jud turned to look at the children.

    Bang! You’re dead! James shouted again, and then he shoved the little girl for all he was worth, and down she went.

    I have no idea. As far as he was concerned, children were hateful little beasts.

    Oh, that’s pretty harsh.

    Huh?

    Hateful little beasts?

    Before Jud could reason out how the man had known how he felt, the little girl had picked herself up off the ground, brushed off the dust and leaves from her pants, and smacked the young gunslinger upside his head, sending him wailing back across the field to his mother.

    Jud and the gentleman smiled at her, impressed. She stared back at them fiercely. Bullies suck, she stated.

    Yes, my dear, they do, the stranger said. Well done. She smiled at him and turned to stride determinedly back over to her mother.

    The man and Jud sat quietly for a few moments, contemplating the little victory they’d witnessed. As he watched the girl reach her mother and receive an embrace rather than a scolding, Jud smiled. The other mom had calmed her son and, apparently deciding he’d learned a lesson, she bundled him up along with his infant sibling and bid her fellow mother adieu.

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