Every night the pictures on his lampshade came to life. Rodeo cowboys on galloping stallions threw ropes at the moon.
The boy’s sister once called him “Nutsy-Crackers” because of the strange things he was always seeing. Later she shortened it to just Crackers.
In the middle of the night, he lifted the window (quiet as a thief) climbed out and lowered himself to the ground, praying that the weight of all the coins in his pocket wouldn’t rip through the material. The rest of the house slept.
Continue reading “The Old Fisherman by Joe Ducato”
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