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Gerry Harlan Brown


Gerry Harlan Brown has spent most of his life in the Bowling Green, Kentucky area. Stints at a factory, a farm, and painting houses have been mixed in with periods as a railroader, a volunteer community crisis counselor, and a professional fire chief. Along the way he acquired an AA degree and took several leadership courses at the University of Virginia and the National Fire Academy. His 29 years in the fire service have influenced his writing more than anything else, for during that period he dealt with people at their best and bravest, as well as their most devastated and petty. His opportunities to wrestle monsters have included—as ludicrous as it may seem—squirrels, white and otherwise

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southern Fiction

“I was angry beyond measure; angrier than I have ever been in my life,” Paul declared. “But instead of asking the Lord to remove the scales from the eyes of those responsible, to show them the error of their ways, I begged Him to damn them all. I screamed at Him to burn them in hell. I cursed. I ranted and raved. I broke things. The greatest thing I broke was Jennie’s heart; a heart that has scarcely had a chance to heal.
“A single hot tear broke from the corner of the preacher’s right eye, challenging his ability to keep his composure. “I spent Friday night wandering in the wilderness, stumbling through the canelands down from our house, slipping and sliding and sometimes falling along the banks of the creek. When the first rays of dawn cut through, I was on my knees, worn out and burnt out. I tried to pray, the words would not come. Finally, I said, ‘I am Yours, Father. Use me.’
“In that very instant I heard a voice speaking to my heart as when I was called to preach. My friends, the Lord has called me again. I am to go to Brownsville, Texas, to pray for the children. He has given me only one other requirement for this journey. I am to walk all the way there from here in Kentucky.”

Also by Gerry Harlan Brown

Ring the Bell

The courage to walk into the flames.

The knowledge to come out when the job’s done.

The memory arrived unbidden, just suddenly there, sharp as broken glass. The child had come to him again, as she had countless times since the first awful midnight years ago. His mouth opened. His lips moved, soundlessly screaming, No! No!
Virginia read about the tragedy in the paper the day after it happened. There was a house fire. A child climbed out a window onto a porch roof. The firefighters were almost to her, but something burning fell from above and knocked her tumbling to the ground. The little girl died instantly.
True to his nature, Wayne had come home from the department the next morning and not said a word about the call. That night, as they lay in bed, Virginia finally brought up the article in the paper. Knowing she was violating their unspoken rule, she asked, “Were you there?”
Virginia felt him shudder. He replied with a simple, “Yes.” Heavy minutes crawled by before he added, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
As Wayne was leaving for his next shift after the fire, he stopped in the doorway and turned back to face her.
“You should know,” he said, “it will not happen again.” The determination in his voice frightened her. “Next time I’ll get that baby, or I won’t be coming home.”

White Squirrels

and other monsters

Kin Patterson is One Sorry Individual.

He sorry he is the last Patterson; sorry that at 27 years of age all he has to show for his life is failure; sorry that the best part of any day is getting plastered with the other pitiful excuses he calls friends.

It’s no wonder his wife left him. It’s no wonder he’s facing bankruptcy.

So, when word comes that a 90-year-old great-uncle he has never met wishes to meet with his sole heir, it’s no wonder that Kin imagines a fat inheritance that will be the answer to all his woes. He immediately travels to the old family home in Bowling Green, Kentucky. To Kin’s deep disappointment, he discovers Uncle Woody is not near death, nor is he senile or feeble. He is still sharp, and as Kin painfully discovers, still able to work his BB gun, for Woody shoots him at first sight.Having dealt with his own ration of strife, Woody doesn’t care to cut Kin any slack. Neither does Moby, a white squirrel that declares war on both men.


A terrific read. Funny and poignant at the same time.

– 5-Star amazon Customer Review