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Charity Case
Charity Case
Charity Case
Ebook35 pages31 minutes

Charity Case

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Certainly I see things that aren't there and don't say what my voice says—but how can I prove that I don't have my health?
LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 10, 2016
ISBN9781531263515
Charity Case

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    Book preview

    Charity Case - Jim Harmon

    CHARITY CASE

    Jim Harmon

    PERENNIAL PRESS

    Thank you for reading. In the event that you appreciate this book, please consider sharing the good word(s) by leaving a review, or connect with the author.

    This book is a work of fiction; its contents are wholly imagined.

    All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.

    Copyright © 2016 by Jim Harmon

    Interior design by Pronoun

    Distribution by Pronoun

    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    Charity Case

    CHARITY CASE

    WHEN HE BEGAN HIS talk with You got your health, don’t you? it touched those spots inside me. That was when I did it.

    Why couldn’t what he said have been The best things in life are free, buddy or Every dog has his day, fellow or If at first you don’t succeed, man? No, he had to use that one line. You wouldn’t blame me. Not if you believe me.

    The first thing I can remember, the start of all this, was when I was four or five somebody was soiling my bed for me. I absolutely was not doing it. I took long naps morning and evening so I could lie awake all night to see that it wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. But in the morning the bed would sit there dispassionately soiled and convict me on circumstantial evidence. My punishment was as sure as the tide.

    Dad was a compact man, small eyes, small mouth, tight clothes. He was narrow but not mean. For punishment, he locked me in a windowless room and told me to sit still until he came back. It wasn’t so bad a punishment, except that when Dad closed the door, the light turned off and I was left there in the dark.

    Being four or five, I didn’t know any better, so I thought Dad made it dark to add to my punishment. But I learned he didn’t know the light went out. It came back on when he unlocked the door. Every time I told him about the light as soon as I could talk again, but he said I was lying.


    One day, to prove me a liar, he opened and closed the door a few times from outside. The light winked off and on, off and on, always shining when Dad stuck his head inside.

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