A letter to my younger brother – plunged into darkness by a little shit

Hi Terry

You really were a little shit! but time heals all wounds especially for you and I.

Although, in later years; there have been some people, unfortunate enough, to have been trapped in an elevator with me, who would gladly wring your neck LOL.

You and I have laughed about this many times over more recent times, it is easy to laugh about something that happened 56 years ago.

Uncle Jim and family were visiting from Canberra and their two toned green FJ Holden was parked near the back gate under, the sprawling, old pepper trees.

You would have been about 4 years old and I was going on eight; the car was open and we were exploring it thoroughly, when I found a way to open the boot.

The flat floored cavernous space was just too tempting for me not to get inside to see if I fitted, and; the rounded boot lid was just too tempting for you not to pull down, while I was lying inside.

The bright sunlight was snuffed out as the lid came down and for about 10 seconds it was funny, until we realised: you did not know how to open the damn thing!.

Summer days on the farm were never cool, but luckily this one was quite mild, otherwise there is a bloody good chance I would not be writing this “love letter” to my brother.

You thought it was hilarious, I can still hear your muffled laughter as I shouted to you to go and get Mum, but you would not do that, you knew what the consequences would be.

From my point of view, trapped in the stinking heat of that boot; I would gladly have traded a belting for my release, but you did not see it my way!!

The more I screamed, the more you told me to shut up because mum might hear me, that is what I wanted, you little shit!

I think it was about 11.00 am when you snuffed out the darkness, and it must have been about 12.30 pm when the men came up for lunch.

I could hear their voices and I heard Dad ask what the noise was? I can still hear your innocent voice protesting ignorance.

I heard the big gate to the garden swing open, as they thought my wails must have been coming from inside the house and it was then I started kicking the inside of the car.

Uncle Jim must have seen the car move and came over to have a look, I was praying he would open the boot.

Finally; I was released from my prison, a shaken, small boy set free, a bundle of sweat and tears seeing daylight again.

I don’t even think you were punished, that was like rubbing salt in my wounds!!!

There is a very good reason why I want to be cremated, Terry! You cruelled me on dark, airless spaces forever.

Thanks old mate!

Love Ya

Bruce

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