Please do not read the following story if you are easily offended. Please?
When Cox woke up that morning, he knew it was going to be a bad day. He knew it because the first thing that happened was that the afternoon sun burned his eyes. The second thing was that his stomach lurched and he had to run for the bathroom to keep from puking in his bed. He didn't make it and ended up splattering reddish-brown stomach bile and beer all over the hallway. He groaned and leaned against the wall, surveying the damage. Mom was not going to be happy. Not that she ever was...
After throwing a bunch of paper towels on the unholy mess he had made, Cox Hunter, 25 years of age and wearing nothing but a pair of worn out boxer-briefs, finally set out to start his day off right. He scratched his ass and dug through the cupboards for some cereal that he hadn't consumed yet. Way in the back behind an ancient can of creamed corn, was a just as ancient box of Fiber-bran. He looked at the box for a full thirty seconds, as if actually trying to decide on the inevitable. This was the only food in the house, and big Cox had to eat.
Pulling a bowl from the cupboard, the last one since he hadn't done the dishes in what was probably going on a good month, he dumped the last powdery bits of stale cereal out and then dug in the mostly empty fridge for something to pour on it. There was no milk because he distinctly remembered drinking it all the day before. I'll have to get on Mom about buying some food, he thought. But then he remembered her screaming at him for not contributing anything or doing any chores the last time he had brought food up. It was better to just keep quiet and play video games all day. That was how you stayed in someone's house. If they never saw you, they couldn't kick you out. Of course, there was the high school keggers and beer parties he was addicted to that kept getting him into trouble...
The only thing in the fridge to drink was an opened can of Fresca, which turned out to be half empty. He shrugged to no one and poured it into the bowl. Taking a bite, he gagged and pounded the counter top in agony. Then he spit the mouthful of cereal and soda into the sink and frowned at the bowl. Then he shrugged again and shuffled off into the living room. He'd find some actual food later. Right now he had a more pressing issue at hand...
Cox Hunter's penis was very small. So small in fact that jacking off was very hard to do since his gut was so big. But if he sucked in just slightly and grabbed it with both hands and thought hard enough, he could get an erection that he could hold onto and stroke. The problem was finding something good to get him off. He wasn't allowed in the computer room anymore since he had almost ruined mom's PC by downloading some farm porn that had a rather nasty Trojan virus on it. Now she locked the door and all his riffling through her room didn't help find it.
He lay back in the easy chair, thinking as it squealed alarmingly under his girth. He didn't have any porn lying around since he has sold it all to his buddy Keith for weed money. He did have his old high school year books, but he had jacked off to the half way decent pictures too much. Finding himself with no other options, he turned on MTV.
What luck! It was some dumb show about stupid rich girls. But they were hot! His penis became slightly engorged with blood and Cox set about pleasuring himself. Just as he was starting to get off, the show ended and he lay back in the chair, exhausted.
Shit, he thought, the next show had better be...oh no! His eyes opened in terror and his erection went away. It was a show about queers! He quickly grabbed for the remote and switched the channel. That was a close one! He thought. But now what? He looked at the limp penis in his hand. He shrugged again to nobody and started channel surfing.
A half hour slipped by. An hour, two passed as Cox mindlessly channel surfed looking for anything that might arouse him. Oprah? No, too fat and ugly. Rachel Ray? Nah, looked too much like mom. Suddenly his finger stopped clicking. Girls in swimsuits! Wait, this was Nickelodeon. They were like, twelve. Still, they were kind of cute....
Anita Hunter had gotten off of work early. Or rather, she had taken off early because she had a blinding headache. It didn't do to manage group therapy sessions in that state of mind. And it would be good to just lay in a dark room and sleep. She sighed loudly as she pulled up to second street and turned off to the suburban block that she called home. She silently prayed that Cox hadn't made any messes. Well, anymore than usual...
Cox was just about there. Sitting as close to the TV as he could, thinking dirty thoughts about the girls on the show, what they would feel like, what they would look like. His cock was at full attention and he was jerking so hard that later he would find sores all over penis. His tounge hanging out, he concentrated on the skinny ass of the main character, a twelve year old blonde girl making a mess in the kitchen. Almost there, almost there...
Anita paused for a second with her hand on the doorknob. Something didn't feel right. What was she going to find? She sighed loudly again and turned the handle...
Cox didn't hear the door open. He didn't hear anything. He was inside his head, doing things that would land him in jail for a very long time if he had done them in real life. When he finally came it shot out in long jets that covered his hands and dripped on the carpet. He sat slumped over, breathing heavily. He turned when he heard the scream, just in time to see his mother bolt out the door. He shrugged as he heard her car drive away. He stared at the mess he had made in his hands for a second and then set about cleaning it up with his tounge.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Late Night Playlist #2
I need my own radio station...
1. GG Allin and The Jabbers - Don't Talk to Me
2. The Rolling Stones - Shattered
3. R.E.M. - Gardening at Night (Chronic Town Version)
4. GG Allin and The Jabbers - Cheri Love Affair
5. Public Enemy - She Watch Channel Zero?
6. Banjo & Sullivan - I'm at Home Gettin' Hammered (While She's Out Gettin' Nailed)
7. Buck Owens and his Buckaroos - Who's Gonna Mow Your Grass
8. Led Zeppelin - Hot Dog
9. The Offspring - I Choose
10. Riz Ortolani - Cannibal Holocaust Opening Theme
11. Terry Reid - Seed of Memory
12. Third Eye Blind - Narcolepsy
13. Third Eye Blind - Horrorshow
14. Roy Orbison - Leah
15. The Sex Pistols - Bodies
16. Mike Watt (With Eddie Vedder, Krist Novoselic, and Dave Grohl) - Against The 70's
17. The Dead Milkmen - Methodist Coloring Book
18. Terry Reid - Brave New Awakening
19. Johnathan Coulton - The Future Soon (Live)
20. Steve Earle and The Pogues - Johnny Come Lately
21. Chumbawamba - The Smashing of the Van
22. Luke Kelly - Join the British Army
23. Luke Kelly - Go to Sea No More
24. Jarvis Cocker - A Drop of Nelson's Blood
25. The Pogues - Drunken Boat
26. The Rolling Stones - Can You Hear Me Knocking
27.Joey Scarbury - Believe It or Not (Theme to The Greatest American Hero)
28. Andrew W.K. - Party Hard
29. Prodigy - Smack My Bitch up
30. Johnny Cash - Sunday Morning Coming Down (Live)
31. GG Allin - Guns, Bitches, Brawls And Bottles
1. GG Allin and The Jabbers - Don't Talk to Me
2. The Rolling Stones - Shattered
3. R.E.M. - Gardening at Night (Chronic Town Version)
4. GG Allin and The Jabbers - Cheri Love Affair
5. Public Enemy - She Watch Channel Zero?
6. Banjo & Sullivan - I'm at Home Gettin' Hammered (While She's Out Gettin' Nailed)
7. Buck Owens and his Buckaroos - Who's Gonna Mow Your Grass
8. Led Zeppelin - Hot Dog
9. The Offspring - I Choose
10. Riz Ortolani - Cannibal Holocaust Opening Theme
11. Terry Reid - Seed of Memory
12. Third Eye Blind - Narcolepsy
13. Third Eye Blind - Horrorshow
14. Roy Orbison - Leah
15. The Sex Pistols - Bodies
16. Mike Watt (With Eddie Vedder, Krist Novoselic, and Dave Grohl) - Against The 70's
17. The Dead Milkmen - Methodist Coloring Book
18. Terry Reid - Brave New Awakening
19. Johnathan Coulton - The Future Soon (Live)
20. Steve Earle and The Pogues - Johnny Come Lately
21. Chumbawamba - The Smashing of the Van
22. Luke Kelly - Join the British Army
23. Luke Kelly - Go to Sea No More
24. Jarvis Cocker - A Drop of Nelson's Blood
25. The Pogues - Drunken Boat
26. The Rolling Stones - Can You Hear Me Knocking
27.Joey Scarbury - Believe It or Not (Theme to The Greatest American Hero)
28. Andrew W.K. - Party Hard
29. Prodigy - Smack My Bitch up
30. Johnny Cash - Sunday Morning Coming Down (Live)
31. GG Allin - Guns, Bitches, Brawls And Bottles
Thursday, August 5, 2010
A Talk With The Old Man
I hear you want to travel boy
Well let me steer you clear
There's things out there
That will curl your hair
And strike you mighty queer!
Sometimes at night I pray to God
When I lay down to sleep
That my head's still on come morning
And nothing eats my feet!
Our house is full of knives and things
Their sharpness warms my soul
If the world gets in
I'll just slug some gin
And stab it full of holes!
Don't you know that it's impossible
To fly with broken wings?
You'll sail away a little ways
And fall into the sea!
Down there at the bottom
The fish will eat your eyes
You can't move
And you can't speak
But there's no way to die!
No girl wants a dapper Dan
Who's rotting all the time
She'll take one breath
Of your ghoulish stench
And then she'll start to cry!
But the ladies love a dapper Dan
That gives them shiny things
A little golden pocket watch
Some beeswax or some rings
But they don't like when you take your knife
And give their throats a smile
But at least then
When they've lost their heads
They're quiet for awhile!
Your mother was a woman
Who would eat the tar off roads
Make me chew my toenails
And have affairs with toads!
But then one night I found her
In the field behind the house
She was clearly dead
For she had no head
But she still called me a louse!
Don't look so sad my boy my lad
For my advice is sound
Take two years
And then your fears
Will be buried in the ground
The worms that eat the baseboard
They sing a merry tune
Lets take a swig from my powder keg
And dance around the room!
Well let me steer you clear
There's things out there
That will curl your hair
And strike you mighty queer!
Sometimes at night I pray to God
When I lay down to sleep
That my head's still on come morning
And nothing eats my feet!
Our house is full of knives and things
Their sharpness warms my soul
If the world gets in
I'll just slug some gin
And stab it full of holes!
Don't you know that it's impossible
To fly with broken wings?
You'll sail away a little ways
And fall into the sea!
Down there at the bottom
The fish will eat your eyes
You can't move
And you can't speak
But there's no way to die!
No girl wants a dapper Dan
Who's rotting all the time
She'll take one breath
Of your ghoulish stench
And then she'll start to cry!
But the ladies love a dapper Dan
That gives them shiny things
A little golden pocket watch
Some beeswax or some rings
But they don't like when you take your knife
And give their throats a smile
But at least then
When they've lost their heads
They're quiet for awhile!
Your mother was a woman
Who would eat the tar off roads
Make me chew my toenails
And have affairs with toads!
But then one night I found her
In the field behind the house
She was clearly dead
For she had no head
But she still called me a louse!
Don't look so sad my boy my lad
For my advice is sound
Take two years
And then your fears
Will be buried in the ground
The worms that eat the baseboard
They sing a merry tune
Lets take a swig from my powder keg
And dance around the room!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Lucky
The first thing I remember when I woke up was the smell. If you've never smelled a dead rotting body before, it's indescribable. One is bad enough but when you've got a room full of them, nailed to the walls, piled up on the floor, it's unbearable and the first thing I did when I woke up, was to puke. And then I screamed because there was one lying right next to me, a young guy looked like he was barley out of puberty. He had no nose or eyes...
Do you remember how you got there, to the trailer?
All I remember was that I had driven home from work. I got to my apartment, pulled over to the curb, got out, and was walking up to the front door when something hit me on the head and I blacked out, and that was it.
Did he ever abuse you sexually?
No, all he did for a long time was bring me food in a little bowl. I think it was supposed to be food anyways. It was always the same chunks of raw meat. Of course I didn't want to eat it at first. But I got hungry. If you've never been without food for weeks you have no idea...
What do you think he was feeding you?
I don't want to think about it, okay? I did what I had to do to survive. You would have done the same thing.
But he never touched you, in a sexual way?
I don't understand why you care, but I already said no. He wasn't into live girls. He had plenty of them that wouldn't put up a fight. I don't think he was into violence if he could help it.
But he killed so many people...
No, he killed about four or five. The rest he got from graveyards.
You were the only living person in that trailer besides him?
Yes.
Why do you think he kept you alive?
I think he wanted a pet, thats what I think. He treated me like one, except he never unchained me to take me for walks. But he would pat my head and talk to me like I was a baby. And sometimes he would just sit and stare at me, like I was a bug or something.
Tell us about your escape.
Well it was real simple, one day I heard him get his truck and drive off somewhere, which didn't happen often. I pulled at my chains till they ripped out of the wall and then I ran.
Into the woods.
Yeah, I was out of my mind, I didn't know where I was going.
And you ran right into him.
Yup, he hadn't gone very far. I didn't know it was his truck. He was digging a hole in the ground, bent over and I grabbed his shoulder. Stupid, so fucking stupid.
Why do you think he...did what he did next?
Easy, he didn't want me to try and escape.
Then why didn't he take your legs?
I think he meant to take them. Later. I think his thought process was that he needed to do something to keep me from pulling my chains out of the wall again. And...other things.
Well, um Miss Grace, Thank you for your time.
Oh, it's no problem.
And we're very sorry about your...
Yeah yeah, everyone is. I don't need any more pity....
Do you remember how you got there, to the trailer?
All I remember was that I had driven home from work. I got to my apartment, pulled over to the curb, got out, and was walking up to the front door when something hit me on the head and I blacked out, and that was it.
Did he ever abuse you sexually?
No, all he did for a long time was bring me food in a little bowl. I think it was supposed to be food anyways. It was always the same chunks of raw meat. Of course I didn't want to eat it at first. But I got hungry. If you've never been without food for weeks you have no idea...
What do you think he was feeding you?
I don't want to think about it, okay? I did what I had to do to survive. You would have done the same thing.
But he never touched you, in a sexual way?
I don't understand why you care, but I already said no. He wasn't into live girls. He had plenty of them that wouldn't put up a fight. I don't think he was into violence if he could help it.
But he killed so many people...
No, he killed about four or five. The rest he got from graveyards.
You were the only living person in that trailer besides him?
Yes.
Why do you think he kept you alive?
I think he wanted a pet, thats what I think. He treated me like one, except he never unchained me to take me for walks. But he would pat my head and talk to me like I was a baby. And sometimes he would just sit and stare at me, like I was a bug or something.
Tell us about your escape.
Well it was real simple, one day I heard him get his truck and drive off somewhere, which didn't happen often. I pulled at my chains till they ripped out of the wall and then I ran.
Into the woods.
Yeah, I was out of my mind, I didn't know where I was going.
And you ran right into him.
Yup, he hadn't gone very far. I didn't know it was his truck. He was digging a hole in the ground, bent over and I grabbed his shoulder. Stupid, so fucking stupid.
Why do you think he...did what he did next?
Easy, he didn't want me to try and escape.
Then why didn't he take your legs?
I think he meant to take them. Later. I think his thought process was that he needed to do something to keep me from pulling my chains out of the wall again. And...other things.
Well, um Miss Grace, Thank you for your time.
Oh, it's no problem.
And we're very sorry about your...
Yeah yeah, everyone is. I don't need any more pity....
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Horror Trailer Bonanza!
Sorry, no story tonight. I like to mix it up a little bit sometimes, so tonight we're going to watch some awesome classic horror trailers!
Carrie (1976)
Prom Night (1980)
Night Of The Living Dead (1968)
Dawn of the Dead (1978)
Day of the Dead (1985)
Frankenstein (1931)
Bride of Frankenstein (1935)
Dracula (1931)
White Zombie (1932)
Evil Dead II (1987)
Don't Look in the Basement (1973)
Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959)
The Unearthly (1957)
Axe (1977)
Robot Monster (1953)
Killer Klowns From Outer Space (1988)
Mad Love (1935)
Wizard of Gore (1970)
Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964)
Blood Feast (1963)
Cannibal Holocaust (1980)
I Drink Your Blood/I Eat Your Skin (1970/1964)
Troll 2 (1990)
The Brain That Wouldn't Die (1962)
Cannibal Ferox AKA Make Them Die Slowly (1981)
Alien (1979)
Return of the Living Dead (1985)
Friday the 13th (1980)
Hatchet for the Honeymoon (1970)
Near Dark (1987)
Texas Chainsaw Massacre II (1986)
Basket Case (1982)
The Wolfman (1941)
The Thing With Two Heads (1972)
????????
Carrie (1976)
Prom Night (1980)
Night Of The Living Dead (1968)
Dawn of the Dead (1978)
Day of the Dead (1985)
Frankenstein (1931)
Bride of Frankenstein (1935)
Dracula (1931)
White Zombie (1932)
Evil Dead II (1987)
Don't Look in the Basement (1973)
Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959)
The Unearthly (1957)
Axe (1977)
Robot Monster (1953)
Killer Klowns From Outer Space (1988)
Mad Love (1935)
Wizard of Gore (1970)
Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964)
Blood Feast (1963)
Cannibal Holocaust (1980)
I Drink Your Blood/I Eat Your Skin (1970/1964)
Troll 2 (1990)
The Brain That Wouldn't Die (1962)
Cannibal Ferox AKA Make Them Die Slowly (1981)
Alien (1979)
Return of the Living Dead (1985)
Friday the 13th (1980)
Hatchet for the Honeymoon (1970)
Near Dark (1987)
Texas Chainsaw Massacre II (1986)
Basket Case (1982)
The Wolfman (1941)
The Thing With Two Heads (1972)
????????
Monday, August 2, 2010
Susan's Story
What's the weirdest thing that ever happened to you?
That was the game that night, as we all sat around the campfire, our only light. Even the moon had shunned us.
What's the weirdest thing that ever happened to you?
It was all Sam's doing, like usual. Her and Andrea had played a few songs on their guitars and sang and they were taking a break when she brought that question up.
What's the weirdest thing that ever happened to you?
And we all answered, one by one. We ended up with five stories told that scared us enough that after the last one was finished we packed it in and went home. If they were fiction, they wouldn't have had half as much impact. But knowing each other well, knowing that none of us were liars, knowing that each story was true, I think we all had trouble sleeping that night.
What's the weirdest thing that ever happened to you?
"Your turn, Suzy-Q." Said Andrea, looking at her from across the fire pit. That was meant as a joke but Susan didn't smile. Susan never smiled, she was one of those people whose face was fixed in a permanent frown. In the three months that I had been hanging out with all of them, I hadn't even heard her say more than two or three sentences to anybody. But she was a brilliant drummer and when she did talk, it was usually something pretty interesting and off the wall. She did have a sense of humor, although it was really dark.
She pushed her blond hair out of her face and glanced at everyone, with piercing blue eyes that took in everything. There was no hiding anything from her, if you were full of shit, she saw right through you. I did like her though, I'd rather have hung out with her then most anyone at school.
When she talked it was with a soft low mumble so that we all had to be really quiet to hear her.
"We all had pretty bad childhoods but I think mine was the worst. In fact I know it was. I'm not going to go into what happened in detail but basically I ended up in a foster home when I was about six or seven that treated me really badly and I ended up having to do a really bad thing to get out of there. It was about three years of therapy and pshycoanalysis before they figured out that I was sane and found me another set of foster parents."
She paused here and sighed.
"It was sort of the end of a nightmare for me, one that I had been living pretty much my whole life. When I got to my new house, I couldn't believe it. I had enough food to eat and ask for things without getting beaten. It was heaven, but the bad things that had happened to me where still under my skin. I dreamed about them, had terrible nightmares. Sometimes I would be sitting doing something like watching TV or trying to learn to read, and I would just start crying and I wouldn't stop for hours. And sometimes I would get angry for no reason and break things and I would feel so bad about it afterwards."
Sam broke in. "What happened? Come on, we're all your friends here, just tell us. We've all been through terrible shit."
Susan sighed again and sounded like she was going to cry.
"I was...I was sexually abused. Very badly for quite a long time. It's very hard for me to talk about...."
She wiped away a tear and Sam got up and walked over to her and they embraced for a long time. We all sat and looked at the fire as Susan sobbed loudly and Sam whispered things to her that we couldn't hear.
It made me feel very strange because I had never seen Susan cry before. She always seemed so strong and finally a wall had broken down. I wanted to give her a hug too and tell her that everything was fine. But of course that would have been a lie. When you've got something like that in your past, it's very hard to get away from. So I sat and poked the fire with a stick, feeling like a jackass till she sat down and regained her composure.
"I'm sorry, like I said, I don't like to talk about it." She wiped the tears off her face and pushed her hair back into her eyes.
"Anyways, weirdest thing I've ever seen? Well sometime in the first month with my new foster parents, they asked me what I wanted to do this one Saturday. They said they'd take me anywhere I wanted to go. I said I wanted to go to the beach, since I had never been to one. I had rode by a few of them and it had sort of become a place I would go in my mind. I would create real parents that would take me and they'd buy me hot dogs and ice cream and we'd play in the water and lay on the sand. I'd dream about it when I went to sleep at night, used it to escape when terrible things were happening to me..."
She looked like she was going to cry again but she swallowed hard and continued.
"They agreed and we went to Howling Wolf Lake that Saturday afternoon. It seems like such a small thing to people that went there whenever they wanted but I had never been to a beach before. I was over-excited. I ran around the sand and laughed and splashed in the water. My foster parents didn't know what to make of me since I had been so quiet up to that point but they played Frisbee with me and Dad threw me into the water over and over and we all built sand castles and dug water trenches. It was perfect, they even bought me ice cream. I ate it while they slept, I actually wore them out!"
She smiled here, a very rare occurrence.
"While they were asleep, I finished my ice cream and got bored. I thought about waking Dad up to play Frisbee again but I was afraid he'd get mad so took my Frisbee and walked off into the water. I was throwing it up in the air and watching it land, slowly getting into deeper and deeper water. After awhile I stopped and looked back and the beach was way far off, at least that's what it seemed like. I don't know what possessed me but I stopped throwing my Frisbee in the air and kept walking out further and further till the water was up to my chin, when a slight wave came, I had to spit to keep it out of my mouth. I had decided that was it and I was going to turn back when I felt a tug on my ankle. And when I tried to make my way back to the beach, I found that I couldn't move. I started to get kind of scared but I didn't start panicking till I felt the tug on my ankle again. This time it was strong enough to pull me right under the water."
"What was pulling you?" Andrea asked.
"It was a girl, about my age. She had this long blond hair that was all fanned around her face and these really green eyes. I know because she pulled me right down next to her and she smiled in my face as I kicked and struggled to hold my breath."
"Jesus..."
"It seemed like I was down a long time before I could make any headway towards the surface, but it seemed if I kicked as had as I could, I slowly moved upwards to the light and air. But the horrible thing was the grip on my ankle got tighter the higher I went and when I looked down, the girl was still there, smiling at me from ear to ear.
When I finally made it to the surface, I was so tired. And I was a lot farther out then I had been originally. I screamed as loud as I could and flailed my arms. And then I went under again and this time I couldn't get back up. My energy was gone and all I could do was grab at the lake bottom as the girl pulled me deeper and deeper. And then I blacked out..."
She paused again and stared into the fire.
"When I woke up I was lying on the beach and Dad was standing over me as I spit out a huge stream of water. He very looked very angry and I started to cry, trying to tell them about the girl through my sobs. They didn't believe me, of course, it all sounded so stupid. Till I showed them the marks on my ankle. It wasn't just bruises, there were deep gashes where the girl's hand had grabbed me. When I showed them, Dad stopped looking angry and got real quiet. He looked out at the water and then back at me and in a very odd sounding chocked off voice he said 'Lets go home.'
And that was that, we packed up and left. Never went back there again. I don't even think we ever even went to a beach after that."
"That's really creepy."
"And if you don't believe me, I still have scars on my ankle. And I'm done talking. John, It's your turn now..."
That was the game that night, as we all sat around the campfire, our only light. Even the moon had shunned us.
What's the weirdest thing that ever happened to you?
It was all Sam's doing, like usual. Her and Andrea had played a few songs on their guitars and sang and they were taking a break when she brought that question up.
What's the weirdest thing that ever happened to you?
And we all answered, one by one. We ended up with five stories told that scared us enough that after the last one was finished we packed it in and went home. If they were fiction, they wouldn't have had half as much impact. But knowing each other well, knowing that none of us were liars, knowing that each story was true, I think we all had trouble sleeping that night.
What's the weirdest thing that ever happened to you?
"Your turn, Suzy-Q." Said Andrea, looking at her from across the fire pit. That was meant as a joke but Susan didn't smile. Susan never smiled, she was one of those people whose face was fixed in a permanent frown. In the three months that I had been hanging out with all of them, I hadn't even heard her say more than two or three sentences to anybody. But she was a brilliant drummer and when she did talk, it was usually something pretty interesting and off the wall. She did have a sense of humor, although it was really dark.
She pushed her blond hair out of her face and glanced at everyone, with piercing blue eyes that took in everything. There was no hiding anything from her, if you were full of shit, she saw right through you. I did like her though, I'd rather have hung out with her then most anyone at school.
When she talked it was with a soft low mumble so that we all had to be really quiet to hear her.
"We all had pretty bad childhoods but I think mine was the worst. In fact I know it was. I'm not going to go into what happened in detail but basically I ended up in a foster home when I was about six or seven that treated me really badly and I ended up having to do a really bad thing to get out of there. It was about three years of therapy and pshycoanalysis before they figured out that I was sane and found me another set of foster parents."
She paused here and sighed.
"It was sort of the end of a nightmare for me, one that I had been living pretty much my whole life. When I got to my new house, I couldn't believe it. I had enough food to eat and ask for things without getting beaten. It was heaven, but the bad things that had happened to me where still under my skin. I dreamed about them, had terrible nightmares. Sometimes I would be sitting doing something like watching TV or trying to learn to read, and I would just start crying and I wouldn't stop for hours. And sometimes I would get angry for no reason and break things and I would feel so bad about it afterwards."
Sam broke in. "What happened? Come on, we're all your friends here, just tell us. We've all been through terrible shit."
Susan sighed again and sounded like she was going to cry.
"I was...I was sexually abused. Very badly for quite a long time. It's very hard for me to talk about...."
She wiped away a tear and Sam got up and walked over to her and they embraced for a long time. We all sat and looked at the fire as Susan sobbed loudly and Sam whispered things to her that we couldn't hear.
It made me feel very strange because I had never seen Susan cry before. She always seemed so strong and finally a wall had broken down. I wanted to give her a hug too and tell her that everything was fine. But of course that would have been a lie. When you've got something like that in your past, it's very hard to get away from. So I sat and poked the fire with a stick, feeling like a jackass till she sat down and regained her composure.
"I'm sorry, like I said, I don't like to talk about it." She wiped the tears off her face and pushed her hair back into her eyes.
"Anyways, weirdest thing I've ever seen? Well sometime in the first month with my new foster parents, they asked me what I wanted to do this one Saturday. They said they'd take me anywhere I wanted to go. I said I wanted to go to the beach, since I had never been to one. I had rode by a few of them and it had sort of become a place I would go in my mind. I would create real parents that would take me and they'd buy me hot dogs and ice cream and we'd play in the water and lay on the sand. I'd dream about it when I went to sleep at night, used it to escape when terrible things were happening to me..."
She looked like she was going to cry again but she swallowed hard and continued.
"They agreed and we went to Howling Wolf Lake that Saturday afternoon. It seems like such a small thing to people that went there whenever they wanted but I had never been to a beach before. I was over-excited. I ran around the sand and laughed and splashed in the water. My foster parents didn't know what to make of me since I had been so quiet up to that point but they played Frisbee with me and Dad threw me into the water over and over and we all built sand castles and dug water trenches. It was perfect, they even bought me ice cream. I ate it while they slept, I actually wore them out!"
She smiled here, a very rare occurrence.
"While they were asleep, I finished my ice cream and got bored. I thought about waking Dad up to play Frisbee again but I was afraid he'd get mad so took my Frisbee and walked off into the water. I was throwing it up in the air and watching it land, slowly getting into deeper and deeper water. After awhile I stopped and looked back and the beach was way far off, at least that's what it seemed like. I don't know what possessed me but I stopped throwing my Frisbee in the air and kept walking out further and further till the water was up to my chin, when a slight wave came, I had to spit to keep it out of my mouth. I had decided that was it and I was going to turn back when I felt a tug on my ankle. And when I tried to make my way back to the beach, I found that I couldn't move. I started to get kind of scared but I didn't start panicking till I felt the tug on my ankle again. This time it was strong enough to pull me right under the water."
"What was pulling you?" Andrea asked.
"It was a girl, about my age. She had this long blond hair that was all fanned around her face and these really green eyes. I know because she pulled me right down next to her and she smiled in my face as I kicked and struggled to hold my breath."
"Jesus..."
"It seemed like I was down a long time before I could make any headway towards the surface, but it seemed if I kicked as had as I could, I slowly moved upwards to the light and air. But the horrible thing was the grip on my ankle got tighter the higher I went and when I looked down, the girl was still there, smiling at me from ear to ear.
When I finally made it to the surface, I was so tired. And I was a lot farther out then I had been originally. I screamed as loud as I could and flailed my arms. And then I went under again and this time I couldn't get back up. My energy was gone and all I could do was grab at the lake bottom as the girl pulled me deeper and deeper. And then I blacked out..."
She paused again and stared into the fire.
"When I woke up I was lying on the beach and Dad was standing over me as I spit out a huge stream of water. He very looked very angry and I started to cry, trying to tell them about the girl through my sobs. They didn't believe me, of course, it all sounded so stupid. Till I showed them the marks on my ankle. It wasn't just bruises, there were deep gashes where the girl's hand had grabbed me. When I showed them, Dad stopped looking angry and got real quiet. He looked out at the water and then back at me and in a very odd sounding chocked off voice he said 'Lets go home.'
And that was that, we packed up and left. Never went back there again. I don't even think we ever even went to a beach after that."
"That's really creepy."
"And if you don't believe me, I still have scars on my ankle. And I'm done talking. John, It's your turn now..."
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Sam's Story
The campfire made weird shadows on her face, making her almost look ghoulish. She was beautiful though, at least I thought so. She was a bit chunky but whatever. She was crazy, but fun crazy, not dangerous crazy. Not usually. Usually Sam was a blast to be around. But she did have a different side. Sometimes she'd just get sad and sit and walk off to be herself and then come back awhile later and be normal again, with no explanation at all. It made her more desirable to me, I wanted to get to know more about her, wanted to know everything. I could never have her, and it hurt, like knives cutting into my heart. I still love her, this mysterious thing that wandered in and out of my life in the course of a year. Of course I'd see her on TV later, but that's another story...
She shifted her guitar on her lap but didn't set it aside. It looked so natural sitting there, it would have felt wrong if she got rid of it. She gazed a long time into the fire before she started, almost like she was drawing up something she'd hidden away a long time ago...
My mother was a piece of shit. I'm not saying that to be mean, she really was. She was an awful parent and, as I came to realize much later, a truly awful person. When you're really little you think that the small world that surrounds you is the same for everyone because you have no frame of reference. You think "Okay, all the other kids get their arms burnt with cigarettes too, so It's not so bad" Or "All the other kids never have enough food to eat too, it's not just me." But then you go to school and you find out that you've been getting the short end of the stick all along and it hurts. It hurts and it makes you angry. Of course you don't say anything because you'll just get beaten more. So you take your anger and your hurt and you bury it deep down inside where no one else can see it. You bury it and it seethes and boils and it eats away at your soul. People who don't come from broken homes have no idea, they look at you like you're a cockroach that needs to be stepped on. And if they don't, then they pity you, which is worse sometimes. They see your shitty clothes and the scars on your arms and they patronize you because they think you're stupid. And then that anger comes up again, anger you can't do anything with, anger that kills you inside. And they wonder why people get so messed up sometimes. When you're a kid all you can do is suck it and hide it and then when you get older it all comes out and we do terrible things, things that shock the people reading their morning newspapers. They shake their heads and move on, only a glancing thought for scum like us. It's very hard to rise above that fate.
You turned out alright.
Yeah, It's all chance and fate too. But anyways. Yeah, my mom was shit, my dad ran off, and my sister...well thats something I don't like to talk about. All I had was myself. My mom had a job for awhile, at Alpaca foundry, and I guess she felt some obligation as a parent at that point because she would never leave me by myself at home. What she'd do though, was drop me off at a realatives house, usually without telling them. And I would spend the day there, wether they were home or not. It was usually at my Great Aunt Gina's, who had a day job too and was never home and I'd wander around in the woods till she picked me up. God, sometimes I wonder how the Hell I survived. I was only seven for christsakes.
But anyways, my aunt lived in this huge old house. I remember it really well, it had this shitty brown shingle siding on it, that always scared me for some reason. Inside it was really kind of boring. Aunt Gina didn't have any kids so she didn't have any toys or games and the only books she had were Reader's Digest Condensed Books which people pretty much just put up on shelves to make it look like they read a lot, I think. When she was home, and I couldn't wander outside, she'd make me sit and watch Soap Operas with her which was torture for me but it's weird because whenever I hear the opening to The Young and the Restless, it brings back this wave of nostalgia that's so strong it sickens me. It's not a bad tune, I just hate it because it brings me back to my shitty childhood. (She laughed a little bit here, and paused before going on.)
When my aunt was home, I was never allowed past the living room. I always wanted to explore the house, it was so big. Well, to me it was. Everything looks big when you're little. For a long time, all I saw was the dusty living room with it's faded green couch and old broken TV. And 1970s yellow carpet. Uck. (She scrunched up her face, which I always thought was cute).
But one time mom dropped me off when no one was home, and Aunt Gina had forgotten to lock the front door. It was kind of a big thing to me, to be able to see the rest of the house, but it turned out to be pretty boring mostly. My Aunt was pretty poor and was all her life. I found out much later that she had actually been born and raised in that house, she died in it too. Kind of sad if you ask me. Anyways...sorry I keep getting off track.
It's alright...
(She sighed) There was pretty much nothing upstairs. My aunt slept in a room off the living room, I think. I remember how the floor was all dusty and I left my footprints in it. I thought this was really weird and kind of cool. I wrote my name with my fingers in it and made hand prints. The upstairs was basically a hallway with two door on either side. Their was nothing in the first one, a skeletal frame of a bed, I think. There was a bunch of hangers in the closet which kind of freaked me out. I don't know why. Weird things scare you when you're a kid.
The next room down was locked but when I looked through the keyhole, I could see another bed frame, but this one had a mattress on it. There was something just beyond what I could see, something hanging from the ceiling. It must have been moving slightly, because it would go in and out of sight. It was something pale, possibly white, but that's all I could make out. After trying to figure out what it was for a long time, I realized I could hear the creak of whatever was holding it up as it moved. This wouldn't scare me until I thought about it years later.
The room across the hallway was open and this was the weirdest thing because the windows were all boarded up and it was dark inside. When I hit the lightswitch I could see that the wallpaper was all torn up, very badly. Whatever had done it had left huge gashes in the plaster as well, gashes that looked like claw marks. And it smelled, it smelled so bad. It was like wet dog mixed with old dirt and rot. I closed the door and ran downstairs. I never opened that last door.
And that was it?
Pretty much. I know, an awful story right? Well I did think about exploring the basement but I took one look down the dark stairs and there was no fucking way I was going down there. Andrea, it's your turn. Tell us a story...
Wait, when your aunt died, didn't anyone go through the house?
No, there was a fire and the place burnt to the ground, with Great Aunt Gina in it. Anyways, my story sucked. Andrea, your turn...
She shifted her guitar on her lap but didn't set it aside. It looked so natural sitting there, it would have felt wrong if she got rid of it. She gazed a long time into the fire before she started, almost like she was drawing up something she'd hidden away a long time ago...
My mother was a piece of shit. I'm not saying that to be mean, she really was. She was an awful parent and, as I came to realize much later, a truly awful person. When you're really little you think that the small world that surrounds you is the same for everyone because you have no frame of reference. You think "Okay, all the other kids get their arms burnt with cigarettes too, so It's not so bad" Or "All the other kids never have enough food to eat too, it's not just me." But then you go to school and you find out that you've been getting the short end of the stick all along and it hurts. It hurts and it makes you angry. Of course you don't say anything because you'll just get beaten more. So you take your anger and your hurt and you bury it deep down inside where no one else can see it. You bury it and it seethes and boils and it eats away at your soul. People who don't come from broken homes have no idea, they look at you like you're a cockroach that needs to be stepped on. And if they don't, then they pity you, which is worse sometimes. They see your shitty clothes and the scars on your arms and they patronize you because they think you're stupid. And then that anger comes up again, anger you can't do anything with, anger that kills you inside. And they wonder why people get so messed up sometimes. When you're a kid all you can do is suck it and hide it and then when you get older it all comes out and we do terrible things, things that shock the people reading their morning newspapers. They shake their heads and move on, only a glancing thought for scum like us. It's very hard to rise above that fate.
You turned out alright.
Yeah, It's all chance and fate too. But anyways. Yeah, my mom was shit, my dad ran off, and my sister...well thats something I don't like to talk about. All I had was myself. My mom had a job for awhile, at Alpaca foundry, and I guess she felt some obligation as a parent at that point because she would never leave me by myself at home. What she'd do though, was drop me off at a realatives house, usually without telling them. And I would spend the day there, wether they were home or not. It was usually at my Great Aunt Gina's, who had a day job too and was never home and I'd wander around in the woods till she picked me up. God, sometimes I wonder how the Hell I survived. I was only seven for christsakes.
But anyways, my aunt lived in this huge old house. I remember it really well, it had this shitty brown shingle siding on it, that always scared me for some reason. Inside it was really kind of boring. Aunt Gina didn't have any kids so she didn't have any toys or games and the only books she had were Reader's Digest Condensed Books which people pretty much just put up on shelves to make it look like they read a lot, I think. When she was home, and I couldn't wander outside, she'd make me sit and watch Soap Operas with her which was torture for me but it's weird because whenever I hear the opening to The Young and the Restless, it brings back this wave of nostalgia that's so strong it sickens me. It's not a bad tune, I just hate it because it brings me back to my shitty childhood. (She laughed a little bit here, and paused before going on.)
When my aunt was home, I was never allowed past the living room. I always wanted to explore the house, it was so big. Well, to me it was. Everything looks big when you're little. For a long time, all I saw was the dusty living room with it's faded green couch and old broken TV. And 1970s yellow carpet. Uck. (She scrunched up her face, which I always thought was cute).
But one time mom dropped me off when no one was home, and Aunt Gina had forgotten to lock the front door. It was kind of a big thing to me, to be able to see the rest of the house, but it turned out to be pretty boring mostly. My Aunt was pretty poor and was all her life. I found out much later that she had actually been born and raised in that house, she died in it too. Kind of sad if you ask me. Anyways...sorry I keep getting off track.
It's alright...
(She sighed) There was pretty much nothing upstairs. My aunt slept in a room off the living room, I think. I remember how the floor was all dusty and I left my footprints in it. I thought this was really weird and kind of cool. I wrote my name with my fingers in it and made hand prints. The upstairs was basically a hallway with two door on either side. Their was nothing in the first one, a skeletal frame of a bed, I think. There was a bunch of hangers in the closet which kind of freaked me out. I don't know why. Weird things scare you when you're a kid.
The next room down was locked but when I looked through the keyhole, I could see another bed frame, but this one had a mattress on it. There was something just beyond what I could see, something hanging from the ceiling. It must have been moving slightly, because it would go in and out of sight. It was something pale, possibly white, but that's all I could make out. After trying to figure out what it was for a long time, I realized I could hear the creak of whatever was holding it up as it moved. This wouldn't scare me until I thought about it years later.
The room across the hallway was open and this was the weirdest thing because the windows were all boarded up and it was dark inside. When I hit the lightswitch I could see that the wallpaper was all torn up, very badly. Whatever had done it had left huge gashes in the plaster as well, gashes that looked like claw marks. And it smelled, it smelled so bad. It was like wet dog mixed with old dirt and rot. I closed the door and ran downstairs. I never opened that last door.
And that was it?
Pretty much. I know, an awful story right? Well I did think about exploring the basement but I took one look down the dark stairs and there was no fucking way I was going down there. Andrea, it's your turn. Tell us a story...
Wait, when your aunt died, didn't anyone go through the house?
No, there was a fire and the place burnt to the ground, with Great Aunt Gina in it. Anyways, my story sucked. Andrea, your turn...
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