Julius Rosenthal will make candy no more and other short stories by Nicholas Russell (tools of titans ebook .txt) 📕

Table of Contents

Julius Rosenthal Will Make Candy No More

Shadows of the Gemmel Anomaly

The Gatekeeper

Hands Of Love

Circus People

An Unnecessary Life

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Julius Rosenthal Will Make Candy No More

Julius was not an extraordinary man. He was actually quite the opposite. At eleven he was the tallest boy on Rosenthal Lane, but now as he approached his seventy-fifth birthday he was the shortest. Julius though liked to remember that he was still the tallest eleven year old. I must apologize for we have just met and I have already told you two lies. The first is that Julius is quite extraordinary because he has no tears left in him. The other is less a lie and more an omission of change. The small road that Julius lives on, that his family had lived on for six generations, was no longer called Rosenthal Lane: it had been renamed in honor of the Chancellor Hitler.

Just before dawn Julius awoke, as he did every morning. It was Thursday and every Thursday Julius would make the trek across town from his tiny candy shop to the asylum delivering fresh caramels and toffees to those who had the misfortune of being trapped inside its walls. He poured himself a cup of coffee and looked out the tiny kitchen window. The yard was covered in a thick blanket of pure white snow. Once full of flowers and a small vegetable garden, the yard was past repair now; the flower beds long since overtaken by weeds and grass. Looking out though Julius didn’t see any of that all he saw was he lovely Juliette running about in the thick wool coat Ava had given her for Hanukkah. Some mornings looking out he saw his Ava running after the girl, but not in the winter: Ava never liked the winter.

He washed the mug and slipped his jacket on. Standing at the front door he looked over the parlor. Julius kept it as clean as he could but Ava had always been the housekeeper. His eyes focused on the family portrait hanging above the fireplace. It seemed like another lifetime, his loving family reduced now to only its patriarch. He turned and left the house, gently closing the door behind him, not knowing he would never see this place again.

The small dirt road leading to Rosenthal’s home had developed a set of ruts from the decades of use. When he first took over the role as head of the family, Julius had tried to fill in the ruts. It had worked for a short while but as it always is with nature she did as she wished and they quickly dipped back down. The walk to work was another reminder of his solitude. Ava’s dislike of winter had been easily pushed aside when Juliette ran about playing as they would walk with her to school. She would run ahead, pulling her legs high in the deep snow drifts. She would get as far as Ava would allow her to go before stopping looking back and with arms stretched wide falling backwards into the snow. Juliette would then swing her arms and legs wildly until Julius was close enough to help her to her feet.

Halfway to his shop the road turned west, the bend sharp enough that a passing car was not able to see around its corner. Julius stopped. He hadn’t stopped here in years, this place didn’t affect him as it once did. Today for some reason, looking out over the snow, all he could see was gleaming red. The corners of his eyes itched but no tears came. It was soon after that when his beloved Ava passed: the doctor said that tuberculoses weakened her heart but Julius knew the truth.

Julius crossed the road choosing not to step on the ground where she had fallen. A freezing wind filled the air as he passed, and Julius pulled his coat tighter. He moved around the bend as the sun crested the mountains bathing the road in its warm glow.

Only the baker was open earlier than Julius the two had been friends since their youth. The past year had been rough on both businesses. The baker was forced by new laws to lay off three of his workers, all Jewish, and he had not yet been able to find anyone to replace the men. His wife had helped at first, but she was not used to the laborious work of a baker and was forced to stop. The baker left his back door open, filling the tiny alley between the shops with the warm smell of sweet breads and his famous cinnamon roll. Julius moved past and stopped at his door. He pulled the shiny key from his pocket and slid it in the lock. For four generations the Rosenthal Candy Company had never found a need for a lock, but these were hard times for all.

“Did you eat breakfast, or was it just coffee again?” Julius turned to see the baker, his arms were covered in the fine white flour he used for his sweet bread.

“Ja, I did.” Julius smiled and turned back to his door as he jiggled the lock. Even a new lock didn’t want to work on a cold winter morning. It finally turned and Julius slipped in waving back to his old friend. He turned on the gas lanterns. A salesman from Rheinisch had tried to get Julius to switch to the newer, cleaner electric lights, but Julius had said no: there was something magical about the soft flickering glow.

Julius looked to the storeroom’s shelves: the war had been hard on all shops, but his seemed to fare worse than the rest. The shelves were mostly bare except for a few spare items - two oranges and a few