A Short Story: Brothers
“You come close. I take off its head!”
My breath caught.
“I not bluffing!”
A sob escaped.
He started. Joe’s head turning slowly.
Eyes widened. Lips quivering. I begged silently.
He kept on. Neck stretched.
I reached out. Hands shaking.
He didn’t stop. He smiled. Kept twisting. Joe will lose his head.
I stumbled forward.
He laughed and threw Joe’s head at me. I caught it. Joe looked up with unblinking eyes as I cradled his head in my hands.
The G.I Joe action figure was my favourite. My 12-year old brother knew that. I ran to my
room crying. Mum comforted me.
“I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him…”
My mum rocked 10-year old me on her lap. She gave the culprit a scathing glare. My
brother looked on sheepishly.
“Okay okay. Now now. Let’s have dinner. I cooked your favourite. Fried fish. And you get
all the crispy skin.”
“But that’s my favourite! Not fair…I was playing…”
Mum’s look stopped him saying more.
I ate happily. Brother sulked. Good.
Years passed. Brother married. Niece born. I uncle. Old. But not quite.
Baby in my arms. Chubby. Turkey thighs. Love at first sight.
“This is your uncle. You can bully him all the time.”
My brother looks on proudly. He is looking at me. I smile.
“Yes she can.”
I kiss her chubby cheek.