Summary: When Adam begins to doubt his abilities his family bands together to help him keep his dreams alive.

Rated: Family Friendly / Word count: 2200

 

Please, Tell Me a Story

~Dark clouds swirled angrily against the night sky. The wind that whipped through the treetops seemed to be whispering frightening incantations to the three exhausted boys huddled beneath the branches of an ancient Cedar. After hours of running blindly through the dark stormy night, the brothers now clung pitifully to each other, too terrified to even think of sleeping. The oldest with his back held tightly against the old tree held onto his brothers as if Satan himself were after them. The middle boy was pale, his large round eyes darting two and fro, watching waiting for the enemy they knew was not far behind. It was then that they heard the sound. A blood curdling screech that seemed to echo through the lonely woods. The youngest began to wail in fear and despair. Out in the night they could feel the vibrations in the earth as the monster approached…~

“Hey, Adam, Supper’s ready,” Little Joe called from downstairs.

Adam laid his pen down and rubbed his eyes wearily. This was the fifth one of his short stories for the Territorial Enterprise. Sam Clemens had taken time to read a few of the stories he had written for his brothers when he was a teenager, and had encouraged Adam to write for his fiction column. Adam bounded down the stairs and was pleased to see they were having ham for dinner.

“Well,” Ben began. “And what sort of adventures do you have your three young hero’s facing this time.”

“You’ll have to wait and find out just like everybody else, Pa,” he answered with a smile.

“But I’m not like everybody else, son, I’m your father,” he replied with a stern glare.

“Oh, well in that case, I’ll bring you what I’ve written so far after dinner,” Adam said.

“Hey, can we read it too?” Hoss questioned hopefully.

“Sorry, Hoss,” Adam answered. “But last time I checked you two were still just my brothers and don’t hold any powers of persuasion over me.”

Adam looked at his father across the table and winked.

“By the way, Pa,” Joe began. “Did you pick up a copy of the latest edition while you were in town today?”

“As a matter of fact I did, Joseph,” he replied.

Adam’s eyes lit up and he quickly exited his chair.

“Where is it?” he questioned excitedly.

“Adam, sit down and finish your supper first! The paper isn’t going anywhere.” Ben chided.

“I will, Pa,” Adam answered as he headed for his father’s desk. “I just have to check first.”

Adam quickly picked up the paper and opened it up to the page containing his story. That thrill that he always felt when he first saw his words in print quickly faded when his eyes reached the section for reader’s comments.

“Nothing,” he said in despair. “For the fifth month in a row, nothing!”

Adam walked dejectedly back to the table and slumped down into his chair. He no longer had an appetite and proceeded to push his ham and potatoes around on his plate.

Hoss and Joe eyed each other and then looked helplessly to their father.

“Adam,” Ben began softly. “You have to give it more time. You’re new to writing, people are just probably waiting until you have a little more experience under your belt before they start commenting.”

Adam had heard this speech before. Five times in fact, but truth be told even the more experienced writer’s seldom had comments. It seemed the locals as well as the citizens of Virginia City just didn’t appreciate writers in any shape or form.

“Pa, I’m not real hungry,” Adam said rising slowly. “I think I’m just gonna go out to the barn and get some chores done.”
As Adam walked away, Ben shook his head sadly.

Later that night Adam sat quietly on the porch in the old rocker. The desert sky was lit up with hundreds of bright stars, but even this breath taking sight was not enough to fill the void he was feeling. Ben with pipe in hand joined his son and for a few moments neither one spoke, just enjoying the evening and each other’s presence. After awhile Adam finally broke the silence.

“It’s not that I’m wanting praise,” he stated matter of factly.

“I know that, son,” Ben answered softly.

“But at least some recognition would be nice,” he continued. “I mean even an “I hated this story; please don’t ever right again!” would at least let me know that people were reading it.”

“I know, son,” Ben replied again.

“It takes a lot of time and effort to get all my thoughts sorted out and onto paper. I just keep wondering if it’s worth it.”

“I know, son,” came the repeated answer.

“I suppose you would tell me that I should keep writing because I enjoy it, not just so that people will read it, but honestly, Pa, I can amuse myself with all these stories in my head. The reason I write them down is that I hope someone else might be amused by them also,” he said pleadingly.

“I know, son,”

“Well, I guess you would be right too. I do enjoy writing and at least we know that a lot of people buy the paper. Whether or not they actually read my stories I guess I’ll never know, but I’m not willing to give up just yet.”

Adam stood and before heading into the house he faced his father one last time.

“Thanks for talking with me, Pa,” he said. “I think I’ll go upstairs and finish that next chapter.”

“I know you will, son,” Ben said as the door closed softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks later Hoss and Little Joe paced the floor in their large living room.

“Dad burn it,” Hoss said finally. “We gotta do somethin’. He’s a real good writer and it would be a downright shame if he quit now!”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Hoss, but what can we do?” Joe questioned. “He says it’s just to discouraging to keep putting himself out there never knowing what people think.”

“Pa,” Hoss questioned as he walked towards his father’s desk. “Why’s it so important to Adam to hear back from people anyhow?”

“Well, Hoss,” Ben answered slowly. “When a person put’s as much time and effort into something as your brother’s been doing, he wants to know his efforts are appreciated. When he writes he tries to convey certain feelings. Some stories are happy, others sad, he wants to know if the reader is getting the message he’s trying to send.”

Hoss still looked puzzled so Ben continued.

“You know the other night when we went to the Oprah House to watch that performance?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” Hoss replied with a huge grin. “That was the funniest play I’ve ever been to.”

“Well, son, when a person is in a play they have the satisfaction of getting a response from the audience. The crowd will either cheer, or laugh, or boo letting the performers know that their message is being received. Imagine how they would feel if during the entire performance there wasn’t a single sound. I mean no one at all so much as sneezed. How do you think those performers would feel?”

“Gosh, Pa,” he answered. “I guess they would think that nobody liked it.”

“I think you’re right, son,” he answered. “A writer has an audience of sorts too, only he can’t hear their reactions to what he writes. He has to rely on them writing a comment. Your brother has taken getting no comments similar to the way a performer would take the silence ofan audience. And take my word for it, son. No one wants to perform for people that aren’t interested.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what I think we oughta do,” Hoss answered firmly. “I think we oughta go into town and make some of them folks start writin’ comments, that’s what.”

“Now, Hoss,” Ben said. “You can’t force people to say something they don’t want to.”

“Well, dad gum it, Pa, I thought about writing somethin’ myself, but Adam would say that don’t count, cause I’m family,” he replied.

“That’s it!” snapped Little Joe.

“What’s it?” questioned Ben and Hoss together.

“We can write up some comments and submit them to the paper,” he answered excitedly.

“Little Joe, didn’t you just hear your brother?” Ben answered. “Adam wants to know what people outside of his family think.”

“Who says he has to know it’s us?” Joe questioned with a gleam in his eye. “We could all come up with some good comments and then submit them to the paper anonymously.”

“You mean, not put our names next to the things we write?” Hoss asked.

“Right,” Joe beamed.

“You know, Joseph, I think you might have something there,” Ben said. “Maybe if people see a few comments in the paper it might encourage them to add some of their own.”

“Well, I think it’s sure worth a try,” said Hoss.

“Okay, boys, let’s get writing,” Ben said. “You can bring me what you’ve written tonight and I’ll take it into town tomorrow.”

Joe and Hoss both gave a whoop as they scurried from the room. Ben chuckled softly and then pulled a piece of paper from his desk drawer.

“Let’s see,” he said and then began to write.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Pa! Hey, Pa!” yelled Adam rushing into the house. “Pa, where are you?”

“Over here, son,” Ben answered coming quickly around the corner. “What is it?”

“Pa, you’ve got to see this,” Adam said breathlessly as he shoved the newspaper into his father’s arms. “Look at page three.”
Ben opened the paper and smiled.

“Oh, so your new chapter has been added, has it?” he said casually.

“Not that, Pa,” Adam answered in exasperation. “Look at the section below, for reader’s comments.”

Ben tried to hide his smile at his oldest son’s enthusiasm.

“Well, would you look at that!” he exclaimed.

“Six, Pa! I got six reviews!” Adam said.

Just then Joe and Hoss came down the stairs eager to get in on the excitement.

“What’s goin on?” they questioned.

“It seems your brother here has finally gotten some feedback on his stories,” Ben winked at them from behind Adam’s back.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Hoss said. “What’d they say?”

“Everybody sit down and I’ll read them to you,” Adam answered excitedly. “This one’s my favorite.”

~Dear Author, I have been following each of your stories faithfully and wait anxiously for each new edition of the paper to arrive, so that I can continue your adventures. You are an excellent writer and I find myself continually moved by your stories. Please continue to write. Signed, your loyal reader.~

Adam was a picture of happiness as he looked around at his family. They returned his smiles.

“Here’s the next one,” he continued. “It’s short, but at least it’s something.”

~I love your stories, can’t wait for more!~

Adam read the next three, all different in style and length but each one appreciated just as much as the one before. He paused when he came to the last one.

~Please, tell me a story!~

“I know that one is pretty short and not very specific,” he said. “But I think that’s the one I like the best.”

Just as his family had hoped their comments had encouraged other readers to begin writing ones of their own. Some were descriptive and detailed, some were simply a short thank you, but always through the years whenever Adam began to feel discouraged that simple request for him to tell a story would echo through his mind and he would smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Many, many years later Hoss Cartwright pulled up in front of the stage office. He turned and told his two young children to wait for him in the wagon as he approached the window.

“Hey, James, you got any mail for me today?” he questioned the teller.

“As a matter of fact I do, Hoss,” he replied. “I think you’re gonna like this one. It’s from your big brother.”

Hoss beamed as he took the package, and quickly headed back for the wagon. He waited until he arrived home before he opened it. He gasped when he removed the paper and saw the beautifully bound hard cover book with its shiny gold edging. Over the years his older brother had published many books, which ranged from designs in architecture to a short work of poems, but this particular book was special.

“What’s it say, Pa,” his son asked.

“Yeah, Pa, open it, please,” his daughter pleaded.

Hoss began by reading the cover. “Three Brothers and their Adventures” A collection of short stories by Adam Cartwright. His large hands trembled slightly as he opened the cover to read the inscription.

Dedicated to my beloved brother Hoss Cartwright, whose five simple words gave me the courage to keep reaching toward my dream.
I hope this book fulfills your long ago request of…

“Please, tell me a story”

 

The End