This story is by Stephanie Newbern and was part of our 2025 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
Kiddo halted in the doorway of his house, unable to move. Except for his fist clutching the crumpled envelope in his hand, with these words.
To my dearest Dakota, Do Not Open Before Your 50th Birthday…Love, Mom.
It was exactly 2 hours before he would turn 50, at 12:01 a.m.
Damn it, Kiddo thought. I was supposed to clean this house up long before now. I’m sorry, Mom! I hope I didn’t fail you!
He forced the door open just enough to squeeze in but found himself nose-to-nose with towers of Readers Digest, National Geographic, and Harper’s Bazaar. All going back to the year 1980. Mom passed away the following year. Dad’s whereabouts was anybody’s guess. Just Kiddo and Mom against the world, even his brothers.
Kiddo took deep breaths, trying desperately not to inhale the dust rising from the junk filling every space he could see from the doorway. He could barely even turn his head. A broken bookcase to his left, and an unusable grandfather clock to his right. Couldn’t even see daylight or moonlight through the dozens of grimy windows.
Mom’s note went everywhere Kiddo went. In his jean pocket, his bookbag, his tattered coat pocket. Nobody dared touch it.
“I wanted this stuff gone before opening your note,” Kiddo called out. “Whatever’s in your note, please don’t let it be bad. I don’t think I can handle anything else, besides turning 50.”
Kiddo’s gaze fell on a picture that hung half-crooked on the wall next to the magazine tower. The picture hadn’t been touched in who-knows-how-long. Even the thick layer of dust couldn’t hide the faces of his brothers. Kiddo shook his head, trying to erase the memory of Stormy and Rusty towering over him, the day after Mom’s passing.
BOOM! Two fists pounding on the door. Kiddo tried to hold in the urine wanting to stream out.
“Hey Kid! Open up now! I know you’re home!”
“Stormy, for goodness’ sake! Leave the kid alone already! You’ve gotta be tired by now,” Kiddo heard Rusty plead and grabbing Stormy’s arm.
Stormy wrenched it away. “Rusty, he’s hiding something, I just know it,” he said with clenched teeth. “I saw it during therapy!” Stormy grasped the doorknob and pushed into the door.
Kiddo squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his fist further around the crumpled envelope. His long fingernails burrowed into his palm.
“If you don’t show me what your hidin’, and I mean right now, you’re gonna wish you were never born,” Stormy warned.
“Stormy, please don’t…,” Rusty begged. “Look, I’ll take you to your favorite spot, the Laundry Room, and we’ll have a couple beers to cool off. What do you say?”
But then Kiddo managed to speak, half-hoping Stormy couldn’t hear. “You can’t do that to me! Mom wouldn’t want…” His voice trailed off.
“What you mean? Wouldn’t want what? You finish that sentence!”
Whump! Whump! Whump! The aging doorframe started to crack.
The pounding on the door threw Kiddo’s head forward. With one quivering hand on the doorknob, he used his right leg to knock over a broom, catching it just before it hit the floor. Kiddo thanked the heavens it was there.
Okay, Kid, slow and steady. Easy does it. Kiddo shuddered. Is that Mom’s voice? He wondered. No, it couldn’t be, could it?
Kiddo inched his way around towards the door, wedging the broom under it. He patted his pocket. Good! Mom’s note is still with me.
“You’re not family! This is MY house! Mine and Ma’s!”
“Okay, that’s it! You’re asking for it!” Stormy warned. Pushing Rusty aside, Stormy’s footsteps grew fainter.
Oh my Lord. Kiddo held back tears. Mom, I need you! Stormy’s coming for me. Stop him!
Something he had not done in decades, Kiddo pushed and pushed against the magazine tower until it broke apart, throwing Reader’s Digests every which way. The tower crashed into the grandfather clock. He winced at the sound of glass smashing into the marble floor.
The staircase! I can get to Mom’s room and I’ll be safe there. Kiddo felt his chest rise, like a whiff of fresh air.
Voices grew louder as they reached the patio door. Kiddo held his breath.
Stormy’s footsteps became heavier.
“Okay, Stormy, hold it,” Rusty attempted to tackle, but Stormy was too strong for him, and shoved Rusty backwards. Stormy pulled at the patio door, but it wouldn’t budge.
“You got every door in the house blocked?” Stormy hollered. Fumbling in his pocket for a switchblade knife, he began prying open the door. “That worthless son-of-a-bitch,” Stormy muttered as he worked. Again, Rusty got up.
Time to move. Kiddo thought, gazing at the staircase, and hearing his brothers’ scuffle.
Kiddo threw himself onto the sea of spilled magazines, inching towards the staircase. So much clutter and nothing to grab onto. He felt his right foot crack from hitting the space in the floor. But he did his best to ignore the stabbing pain.
11:38 p.m. A hair’s breadth from 50.
Kiddo heaved with every movement of his arms and legs. The endless stream of magazines slid underneath him. With another push forward, his stomach fell on the sharp piece of glass from the broken grandfather clock. He cried as if he had been shot.
Once again, Kiddo patted his pocket. Note’s still safe!
The kitchen patio door banged. Oh no, he’s here! Kiddo grabbed hold of a scarf tightly wound around the banister. Mom’s precious scarf! Kiddo gasped. He used his other arm, wrapped his wrist around and hoisted himself onto the first step. Whew!
More clutter on the staircase. But Mom’s room was right there. At the top.
Just need to make it past this heap, I’ll be… Kiddo thought. He froze.
Stormy’s hands tightened around Kiddo’s ankles. “I gotcha!” Stormy almost laughed, and Kiddo cringed at the cigar breath emanating from Stormy’s leather jacket. “Gotcha. You ain’t goin’ nowhere but down.”
Rusty, out of breath, caught up to Stormy. “So sorry, Kiddo, I did my best to stop him.” He turned to Stormy, exasperated. “What in the blazes are you doing? Mom’s gone. Ain’t we all been through enough?”
Stormy growled. “It ain’t enough. The kid’s got her. Somewhere.”
Kiddo, still on his stomach on the piercing staircase, beat his fist into the riser.
Mom, he’s got me now. Kiddo fought back tears.
The clock struck midnight. Finally, the big 5-0! I get to read your note now, Mom! It’s still you and me against the world! Even my Big Bad brothers.
Kiddo looked up to the door to Mom’s room. A door that was shut for nearly 40 years.
I’m gonna take care of them. Soon it’ll be just us. He patted his pocket again for that crumpled note.
Stormy flipped Kiddo’s ankles over. Their eyes met. Gripping the banister, Kiddo wriggled free. Before Stormy knew it, Kiddo used his good leg to kick Stormy in the stomach, causing him to miss a step and land on the marble floor.
“You little shit,” Stormy groaned.
Kiddo flipped over and climbed back up the staircase, stepping on every shopping bag, hairbrush, and fishing pole in his way. I’m almost to your room, Mom!
When Kiddo reached for the knob, Stormy’s hand hit his neck, stopping him dead cold.
“Not so fast. Gimme what’s in your pocket!”
Kiddo and Stormy struggled at the top of the railing. The railing started to crack with their weight against it.
“Think you’re better than me? You ain’t! Mom said so!” Stormy slammed his fist into the wall.
“No, no, she didn’t!” Kiddo stammered. “I’ve got the proof! She gave me this note for my 50th birthday!” Withdrawing the note, he uncrumpled it. Mom’s handwriting was just as he remembered it. He read aloud.
My dearest Dakota,
As you start a new decade, now’s the time to hold family close. Please forgive your brothers for how they treated you. As I’ve forgiven your father and everyone else for how they treated me. They are only human, with weaknesses, and all deserve forgiveness and another chance. I know you can do it, my youngest son. I have faith in you, and I love you so much. With hugs, Mom.
Kiddo’s jaw fell. He nearly dropped Mom’s note but managed to keep it from reaching the floor.
Stormy blinked. “She said that?” He stepped back, loosening his grip on Kiddo’s collar.
Kiddo nodded. “She did.” He didn’t turn his gaze from Stormy.
Rusty rushed to the top. “What happened?”
Stormy knelt, burying his face in his hands. “Oh, gosh, kid, I am so sorry. I’m sorry Mom!” Kiddo never heard his eldest brother cry before.
Kiddo still said nothing but trudged over to Stormy, placing a hand on his back.
“It’s okay. We’ll honor Mom’s memory, all of us.” He glanced at Rusty.
As they huddled by Mom’s door, in a hug, Kiddo began to crumble up her note. The brothers uncrumpled it. Together, for the last time.
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