7 Little Johnstons Tragedy Novels & Stories

Senior Johnston were driving back from Raglan late one evening after spending the weekend at a friend’s batch by the beach. They were only three kilometres away from their house when tragedy struck. Mr. Johnston suffered a stroke behind the wheel, causing him to lose control of the car, and they crashed into a riverbank. He died from his stroke without any pain. Mrs. Johnston was knocked out from the impact of the airbag rapidly inflating. They reckon that when she came to and saw Mr. Johnston lying there next to her lifeless, she lost the will to live on and died from a broken heart and hypothermia hours later.

“I am reminded of the great Civil War General, Albert Sydney Johnston, who died of a similar wound at the Battle of Shiloh.” “Johnston was a damn Reb!” Heather shouted, surprising Aaron with her allegiance to the North since she sounded fairly Southern herself. Alex either didn’t hear or ignored her. “Such a warrior, that one. His work in the Black Hawk War isn’t given enough credit.” “Killin’ innocents!” Heather added. Aaron began to wonder if she had some personal connection to the man Alex spoke of. “’Tis a shame he died at the hands of his own men, most likely. An accident, of course. Bleeding to death without realizing it. His boot filled with blood....”

The table shook, and the glasses filled with water on top of the table tipped over from the impact. “You lousy b*stard!” Kennedy hissed, “Look at what you’ve done. You’ve besmirched the good name of the Johnstons.” The Emperor continued to look down in silence and said nothing to defend himself. “You’re a Johnston. How could you stoop so low as to work under someone else? What would the public think about us if they caught wind of this?”

“So you know him?” Logan again. “Not intently,” Uncle John sighs, “But we’ve met. Got this long Italian name I couldn’t even pronounce …” Uncle smiles. “He joked, said he doesn’t know what in hell provoked his father to call his son a peaceful old man, while having death as a surname.” He stares at the wall. “They were interested in a few of Alexander’s horses. I was selling the whole damn stud after his death.” His voice drifts into memory, telling us about an attack on their car … on that winding road above the ocean. How the car tumbled into the water. Garcia found the little girl, and the Old Man survived, too, but the three boys were never found.