Chapter 1-2A Chapter by Shep
“I hate this place, but right now I don’t know what is worse, images or the memories and those horrible feelings that the boy and I experienced.” The old man stood still shaking, not sure what he could have done. “Would I have made a difference? The question is and still remains; do I make a difference? Is there still time to help the boy? Can I help the boy? I now understand why the boy would not go inside there. We must be on our toes incase “Time” itself, in our mind, decides to lay traps for those with wandering souls, like mine.”
"For they, are those that need to fear are those that fear, fear itself. For Darkness waits for no man even light has its shadow, which hides deep within itself. So when Death comes so eagerly to some, rebirth will come on the Morning tides.
“Is this what Death is posing, that I help the little boy?” the old man whispered softly to himself.
The old man realized that he must push on and find a new zeal and reason to move on; knowing that fear could be waiting at every door he opened behind the looking glass. The old man could sense deaths nightmare and baited breath, the same one he has been living with for the last twenty years and knowing soon it would come sweeping down upon her wings to crush him.
The old man laughed silently. “Maybe at last I will die.”
Once again we find ourselves in that dreaded horrible looking hallway, in the search for that missing little boy. In hopes of finding that the way out is near or better yet he will soon provide the answer that will change his past before “Time” runs out for both of them or die in here forever.
The old man pushed himself down the hallway not far. He begins to hear distant whispers. But unsure because everything is so muffled here and he really had to strain his ears and eyes, which are just getting used to the lack of light here. Once again he thinks he sees two images. “But how is that possible”? He asked “and how did they get in here? I can't even get out. Am I losing my mind?” The old man said running towards them feeling angry as he watched them as they began to walk away as if they hadn’t even noticed him. “WAITE, WAITE, WAITE, WAITE FOR ME! ...WHO ARE YOU?” He screamed.
The old man yelled again, thinking that would get their attention, but they paid him no mind. They kept walking away and faded away as quickly as they came. So tired and angry, he falls to the ground with a loud slump. The keys chimed hitting the ground beside him. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to remove the tears of anger behind them. He yelled with all his might…. ”What in the hell am I supposed to do now?”
He yanked his head back letting out a blood curdling scream. In hopes of frightening some poor defenseless chickens to death causing them to lay all their eggs at once and when they hatched. Be they hard boiled, scrambled, or doubled yoked. Go figure, the chickens had a rough day.
His head rebounded back against the wall; instead of feeling the hard cement wall with the back of his head, it felt hollow with a soft thud. The old man placed his right hand behind his head to feel it, making sure what he felt was real. His eyes widen with surprise and dismay at the same time. Fear crept over him as his heart began to race with excitement.
Caution was needed as he remembered the pit falls of last door he opened. Yet at the same time he wondered what could be lurking behind this door? After he gathered some courage and dusted himself off his feet, he said “let’s see this door. I am sure this door wasn't here before? Question is where did it come from? Where is that little boy? Who is he talking too? Where did he go?” the old man wondered in his mind what lies behind it.
The door, cold to the touch, bore ugly scarred markings like its heart had been torn out. Not really sure he wanted to go in there, he wondered. “Could it be the way out? Which key fits the lock is the question?” The old man looked down amongst the keys, feeling each key one by one. Noticing each one had a different, but odd feeling about them; it was a strange feeling, something he never had experienced before throughout his long aged life... a memory that seemed familiar yet distant as if he could not quiet place it and, then it was gone. He closed his eyes tracing each with his fingers afraid it would be the wrong key.
He was different somehow unlike last time yet the same, images quickly swirled around him. Old memories intoxicating out of control, something in the room immediately grabbed hold of him. He gazed about as if in a daze about to awaken, his body now felt so small, cold and trapped, hurting from pain of the wounds incased in his now small body. Like before his mind swimming as he becomes the person in this body as it takes hold seeing and feeling like a tidal wave of emotion, that pierced his inner soul, leaving the old man behind as he becomes that boy once more…
* * * *
The sounds in the small room were angry and hostile. The boys left eye was swollen; he could barely open it enough to see through the bottom of his eyelid. Looking around he noticed he was tied to a metal folding chair with a chain wrapped around his unclothed body. He could hear a small child crying nearby. A mother was screaming at him at the top of her lungs as the boy was being beaten by a wooden spoon on his bare bottom, trying to do dishes at the moment, trying to find a way to escape the blows. There are smiles on his sister’s faces while they played with their dolls on the other side of the room as they watched.
“How can you help him? Right now I can't even help myself? The question is who am I? Where am I?” he whispered as he gazed down upon his cold, naked feet. Asking “how did I get myself into this mess?”
As if he was asking the little girl across the room, playing with her dolls these questions? She looked up, turned and laughed. “Look mommy it asked a question. It thinks it has rights to ask question's now!”
“He does, does he? That ingrate little brat. After he tried to run off and tell everyone how he got all those bruises. He nearly got all of us into trouble again. We all know girls, how he fights all the time, he got them at school or fell off his bike, him and his brother. After all father and I would never ever lay a hand on him, we love you all.” She said standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips holding the wooden spoon which had seen better days.
“How many times have I told everyone? ... Boys will be boys. This is how you train them if you want a good one these days. Besides these boys are always in trouble! People need to mind their own damn business. If it ain’t broke don't fix it… if it is, there is always a new one down the street on sale; right girls? And you boys are going to learn that lesson if we have to beat it into your little stupid heads. Oh look your brother needs to go the bathroom. Can you take him outside Peggy? After that put him to bed for the night, I don't want him disturbing anyone next door.” She said as she pointed to the little boy at the sink, dancing trying not to wet himself.
The girls laughed as something struck them funny, “anyone ready for round two?” his mother asked. The boy wasn't laughing, the pain was nearly unbearable already as she came over to pop him a couple more times, because she thought he was being smart,
He yelled, “STOP IT!”
His father took off his belt and swung it across his bare legs and feet. “Don't ever talk back to your mother like that you worthless little brat! Why did you come back in the first place? They didn't want you? Nobody wants you!” he replied with anger in his voice as his knuckles turned white.
At that moment, the wooden spoon broke in two as she hit it across his already sore shoulders wincing with pain. The sharpness of the blow must have loosened the chains that wrapped around him snapping a link in the chain and freeing him. Without thinking the boy quickly dived for the door, he was cold, hungry and did not care as long as he was away from there, for that was a living hell. The pain that he felt was great, but right now it was a blanket of warmth.
He was never going to return to that and to think a small boy could or ever think that could be called home. He knew that he had to find some shelter for the night. Lucky for him there was an old barn not far from the house, just right for the night. He found an old horse blanket for covering and hid behind an old hay wall to keep the wind and prying eyes away until morning he fell into a deep sleep…
* * *
The term love, home, and family will always be redefined in different ways to the young boy and others like him and add many of its factors to his life. Like the terms or words disposable or replaceable are more or less have come to new terms known in today and in some social circles as true Family and Factions. For they are and have become terms to a contract as slavery for this young boy and others; some would say White Slavery, or Back Door Slavery. The government knew about it, but went on regardless even though they were hidden and well guarded. Few knew they existed or even cared; some found it easier to ignore the problem after all was said and done. ‘It was not their problem; best to pass it on’ or ‘I don't have the time right now, maybe later.’
Remember deniable ability is everything according to any rules could be traps that lay before him. The next best trap of them all is love. It can be just another lie and can be well hidden. Played upon the innocent then smashed, crushed or ripped apart. Done enough times, you can become numb. Yes love and family is one of the best laden traps the world has ever known. Some people say it is given freely, but there's always a price to pay. What is the price of man’s own destructions? Ask the boy now asleep underneath the old horse blanket in a simple barn, forgotten by the govern world of men and their so-called government. The question is raised will this boy be one of the forgotten souls that time has hidden away? Is his life among the different hidden realms of reality? Does it exist in your world and you have chosen to ignore and it’s many Factions?
* * *
The old man wonders in his subconscious as he stood alone in the veil of shadows as he watched the boy sleep as if he himself was in a dream, that only he could see and still be apart from the boy that lay before him. Hearing the soft sobs of the small boy as he falls into everlasting sleep and after seeing, after feeling and knowing the choices made long ago, some against his will. Watching his very hopes and dreams die with the boy, it was almost obvious that this little boy, “was, as, he is now” remembering it was he, himself; for he was this boy long ago and soon he too will just stop feeling as he relives his past.
“Was this Death’s design and purpose? Or was this a joke that Death himself is playing on him?” The old man asked as he himself becomes trapped inside the boys mind at the end of his subconscious.
For beware of cupids poison arrows. It tricks him; hope is something he cannot have, nor ever have. For if he does this simple act of love for that small nameless boy is his only hope and he might be able save him before he becomes the man he is today as he stands alone in the veil of shadows.
* * *
Death smiles as he looked down upon the boy, sleeping in the barn as he slowly gazed deep inside the old man’s subconscious standing alone in the shadows veil. Death watched the old man fight a war he could no longer win; he shushes his mind, letting the two minds come together as the child mergers once more. He gives them both one last hope from a new sense of realty behind and beyond the realm of the looking glass “I wonder? Yes my boy, I wonder?” He said, leaving a small kiss on his small, tear laden cheek, whispered softly in his ear; “go find them, help save the boy and yourself.” Brushing away his soft brown mossy hair, a teardrop falls from Death’s own cheek. “I am sorry, I was late, but I am here for you now. Not as Death, but in life, I give you this gift of a new chance at life.” In a whisper of the wind he was gone and the boy and old man are one…
* * *
If you think back to the 1970 generations it was common practiced back than almost as it is now to find a small boy easily fallen through the cracks. Children back then were easily not seen through the public's eyes nor heard from. They were known as society’s cast offs or for a better word, garbage. The generalized government or social services during that period of time assumed the role and standard. If it doesn't work, it's ok, not our problem. Ignore it until there is a real problem. Then lets us know, until then fill this out and wait six months and then come back to check on the progress, after you waited 1 year?
“What was the problem? I see. Did you fill out the paper work? I see. That program changed; did not someone from the department tell you? So how can I help you? Yes I can help you with that. Just fill this out and send it in. It will take about six months for a reply back. What was that Mrs.?''
“Your son is missing, he dove out the front door last night and has been gone for? You don't know why? Oh I see, he got into another fight at school, does that a lot and you think he might be in some sort of trouble. Not to worry we know how handle that sort; remember there's a saying my grandmother used to say ‘in for penny in for pound.’ Plus; when they get hungry enough they'll come home with their tails waging then feed them and put them right to bed.”
© 2012 Shep
Added on March 13, 2012
Last Updated on August 28, 2012
Whats Behind the Looking Glass?
AboutUpdated January 23, 2013 I have started a New Book Titled: My Life And How It Has Changed Me. Listed under my single books. I would love to have lots of friends that review my hard work. Please .. more..