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Short stories: Tales of horror

by Tom Fowler

Created on: July 24, 2008

The Man Who Fell Apart

Howell was puzzled. He was in shock and suffering the grief that most people would when losing a brother, but still puzzled. Joe Carruthers, his good friend, called him in London with the news, explaining that his parents were in "deep mourning" and "unable to talk about it." Howell thought this odd and a bit disturbing, as his folks were very down to earth, no nonsense people of hardy Scotch-Irish stock. So, it was with a sense of vague foreboding that he stepped into the terminal at Kennedy Airport and awaited his flight to Will Rogers World Airport in Oklahoma City.

Howell Beaumont, Jr. was born and raised in Butler, a small town seventy miles or so from Oklahoma City. A very small town in the heart of the Bible belt, Howell left home immediately after graduation from high school to make his way in the larger world. Howell and Mabel Beaumont were hurt and confused by their eldest son's desire to leave home so quickly, but accepted it as best they could. As the years passed, their anger at Howell eased, in large measure because Hadley, Howell's brother and junior by 12 years, was a model son who moved back to Butler after finishing junior college in Lawton.

Howell felt somewhat guilty about returning home under these circumstances. He had been back only three times, for short visits, in 28 years. Time had mellowed him, but he had been overseas for 16 years and it felt strange to be standing on American soil. A top-notch free-lance geologist, he was much in demand with all the major energy corporations and was well off financially, if not exactly wealthy.

Saddened and worried, he was anxious to talk to Joe, who was to pick him up in Oklahoma City and drive him to Butler.

"How was your trip?" Joe asked perfunctorily, as he pumped his old pal's hand. He and Howell were best friends when growing up and were still close, corresponding three to four times a year. Joe and his family met Howell in Denmark 12 years ago, enjoying several days of holiday together. They had not seen each other since.

"OK. Hey, you're getting old." Howell replied.

"But not bald," Joe shot back, pointing to his friend's thinning hairline, which was thick and long the last time he had seen him.

This good-natured repartee lasted until Howell and his bags were loaded into Joe's car. The old friends allowed themselves these few minutes of lighthearted comradeship before the serious discussion began on the drive to Butler.

Pulling out of the airport parking lot, Howell asked simply,

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