Date: Fri, 28 Oct 2005 14:28:03 -0700 (PDT) From: "Darron, Darron The Witch, The Witch" <darronthewitch@yahoo.com> Subject: Dream Boy Chapter Ten - Continuation of Dream Boy by Danny The Witch "Remember everything that I told you and I'm tellin' you again that its true, Keep on believin... One upon a time was the backbeat. Once upon a time on the porch came the life, And the angels had guitars even before they had wings, If you hold onto a chorus you can get through the night. I treasure your love. I never want to lose it. You've been through the fires of hell, And I know you've got the ashes to prove it. I treasure your love. I want to show you how to use it. You're never alone, 'Cause you can put on the phones and let the drummer tell your heart what to do. Keep on believin' and you'll discover... There's always somethin' magic, There's always something new, and when you really need it the most, That's when rock 'n' roll dreams come true. The beat is yours forever, The beat is always true, and when you really really need it the most, That's when rock 'n' roll dreams come true, for you. -Rock And Roll Dreams (Meatloaf) "The legend lives on from the Chippawah down at the big lake they call Getchagoomee. The lake it is said never gives up her dead when the skies of November get gloomy... ...And every man knew as the captain did too twas the witch of November came stealin'..." - The Wreck Of The Edmond Fitzgerald (Gordon Lightfoot) "When I look out my window, many sights to see, when I look in my window so many different people to be, It's strange so very strange, You got to pick up every stitch, you got to pick up every stitch, Wow Wow Wow, Must be the season, the season of the witch, Must be the season of the witch. - Season Of The Witch (Dr. John) Dream Boy by Danny The Witch -Ten- When I got out of bed, it seemed like my body hadn't moved for twenty years-- No, I'm serious-- My mind felt groggy like after waking from surgery; my limbs felt tight and stiff. I was tempted to feel my face for any long beard like Rip Van Winkle! With my feet on the floor, I stood up too quickly and one knee made a loud popping sound-- there was no pain though-- Thank God. I sat down on the edge of the bed, momentarily abandoning my ordinary quick start to the morning. "What time is it?" I asked myself. I turned to look at the clock; it read 1:11. "One eleven?" That didn't make any sense. I looked at my draped window-- even through the drape, I could see blinding, obvious day-light. "It must be the afternoon," I said to myself, "I had to of over-slept-- but why wouldn't my mom wake me before she went to work?" I thought about this. They wouldn't just let me stay in my room, if I wasn't up with them in the morning. 'Maybe,' I thought to myself, 'My mom could see that I had come down with something-- and decided to just let me sleep rather than take me to the doctor.' It sounded possible but not very likely. One thing was for sure, I definitely wasn't going to try and go to school-- I think I really did come down with something-- body aches all over. I tried to stand again, this time more slowly. That one knee was tight, BUT, it didn't pop again. I walked slowly to my door, which for some reason was open, and moved slowly down the hall towards the bathroom to take care of some business. When I came out of the bathroom, I headed towards the kitchen, when I got there all the cupboards were bare. "Mom, Dad," I called. No answer. Well, of course they weren't home-- they were both at work. I walked slowly towards the living room, holding the small of my back with a fist like an old man without a cane. "Mom, dad," I called again. Still nothing. When I got to the living room, there was no sign of my parent's being home, however, I was quite shocked that the living room was a total mess. My parent's would NEVER leave the house in a mess like this. Strewn all across the large coffee-table were papers of all sorts, coffee cups, Solo cups, partially filled with liquid. Ash-trays with cigarette butts in them. "Ash Trays!" I said out loud. "What the hell's going on here-- my parent's don't even smoke-- well my dad does, but he keeps it a secret from my mom-- and never in the house. My parent's NEVER let anyone smoke in the house-- ' "What the hell is going on?" I said out loud. I moved closer to the coffee table. There was a family photo- album out, with a bunch of pictures taken out of it-- I picked a few of them up and took a look-- they were all pictures of me. A frown came over my face. I dropped the pictures back on the table, noticing a pack of cigarettes, laid open; almost a full pack-- my dad's brand too; Marlboros-- that is when he DID have an occasion to smoke one. I know, because I know where he hides them, in the make-shift darkroom in the garage-- hidden in a drawer, under some porno's. My mom never goes in there-- but I however, have had occasion to do so. I noticed another pack of cigarettes; these were Virginia Slim's-- I scratched my head in thought. My mother used to smoke those, but she quit when she started the job at the hospital, that was like five years ago-- she quit cold turkey and has never had another one since. This was puzzling. Did my mom and dad suddenly take up to smoking again, on the same night. 'Are they on drugs too?' I thought. 'Look at this mess!' I checked the ashtray for a roach-clip. Nothing. I grabbed two of the Marlboros and the Zippo lighter laying next to it. I went back to my room and slipped on my jeans, my body just a bit more limber now but still stiff, dropped the lighter into my front pocket and then I headed out the back door, to my very own secret spot. When I got out into the back yard I noticed that the garage door had been left open-- something else very unusual-- my parent's ALWAYS close it after they leave. Both cars were gone, but, there was a bunch of stuff knocked over, boxes and stuff from up on the loft in the far corner of the garage like mom accidentally hit it when parking the car. One side of the loft had completely fallen down, the support broken, and all the boxes just slid down on top of one another in that corner. I furrowed my brow once more, and then sporting a fag on either ear, headed for my secret spot, which was on the far side of the garage-- a narrow corridor; a space between the far side of the garage and the fence which divided the property from the next. I got over to where the opening was to the corridor, which was concealed by a large Ivy plant. The plant was still there but in terrible shape, as though fifty people trampled through here, bending and pushing the bush all this way and that-- I could see broken Ivy leaves everywhere. I pushed past the bush, into the narrow space. I looked down on the ground-- There are a lot of rocks they put here, you know, like millions of itty bitty rocks. I could tell people had been walking back here because all the rocks were uneven. And there were more cigarette butts. "Was somebody having a party back here??" I asked the wind. I got to the far end of the corridor, where there was a little corner-- a little hiding spot-- a very small space. When we first moved here my mom found out I was sneaking back here (she didn't know it was to sneak a cigarette thank God), and she'd tell me to stay out for two reasons-- one the spiders, and two, she was always afraid that I'd get stuck in my secret spot, and no one would no where I was. I was even smaller now, and found I was better able to squeeze myself into it. Once you got squeezed into the corner, it widened out a bit and led, in an extremely narrow space, all the way back towards the front of the house, where you could see out to the street. I liked to get all the way back there so I could secretly voyeur as they say, well secluded. I could see everything that was going on out front, without anyone knowing I was watching; it was cool. It was also the best spot in the world to have a secret smoke. It took a little work, even being a little smaller now. I had to be very careful not to get stuck, or to get splinters from the side of the garage which was composed of old un-painted wood, but I finally got there and had just enough room to sit down on the rocks, bunching my knees up to my chest which I did. After I sat down, I pulled a Marlboro from my left ear-- kind of like a magic trick. I smelled it across my nose, and then put it in- between my lips and lit it up. I only smoke every now and again, and usually when I do I get a little light headed, this time I got way more than a little light headed. After the first wave hit me, I decided to take small drags and let most of the smoke out before I inhaled. Now-- I had to think. 'What is going on?' I thought. I just took another light drag off the cigarette, and that's when I saw the cat; a little black fuzzy face that stuck out from under two wooden planks of the fence that no longer reached all the way to the ground, the wood having rotted away. He didn't see me at first, but after sticking his head all the way through the opening, the cat turned his head and saw me; we made eye contact. A moment later he backed out of the opening. I thought at first he was a scardy cat, not wanting to play-- running away after he saw me, but a moment later I saw the kitty's furry nose come back under the opening at the bottom of the wooden fence and then a moment later, the black cat slyfully squeezed himself between this amazingly small space between ground and fence only two planks wide, his back doing a kind of inverse extreme arch to prevent himself from being scraped by the pointy rough bottoms of the wooden beams. After getting himself entirely under the fence and onto my side, the cat looked directly at me again-- eye to eye. The cat had emerald green eyes with irises that of course went side to side as cat's eye's do. A lot of people find cat's eyes to be kind of freaky and won't look directly into them-- or any animal's eyes for that matter-- Not me-- I discovered long ago, that's how you make friends-- call me Dr. Doolittle. Even so, I would expect a strange creature to be a little cautious of me at first tell he picks up my vibe-- but not this one-- he acted like he knew me-- he came right up to me, and started purring. "Hi, little guy," I said as I stroked his soft fur. Obviously this was not a stray somebody kept good care of him-- I could tell that not just by the nice fur but mostly from the color around it's neck. After petting the kitty for a wee-bit to let him get used to my touch, I then reached for the color and took a look, on the color was a nickel plated I.D. which read: Lucky and that was it. "Hi Lucky, Why are you snooping around in my secret spot for? Do you want to share a smoke?" I asked rhetorically as I took another puff. I then pulled the I.D. plate forward, I was going to look on the back of it, and that's when I noticed the pentagram. It was similar to the design of both Sean and Tommy's but, this one had blue points on it and inscriptions around the edges. It was beautiful. It was also smaller than either Sean or Tommy's. I held it in my hand, and as soon as I grabbed the pendant to get a better look at the writings along the circle, the cat jumped back in one unsuspecting movement. The thin string that was holding it around his next snapped. The cat then made a bee-line right for the opening under the fence. "Wait," I said, "Where are you going? You forgot your pendant." My words had no effect-- the cat squeezed back through the fence as gracefully as he came, and then, he was gone. I smashed the cigarette into the rocks with my hand, and then brought the pendant up to my face where I could the tiny inscriptions. 'Welp, " I said out loud after I had a closer look, 'definitely not English-- looks more like hieroglyphics.' I squeezed the pentagram into my right front pocket. Just then I could hear the phone ringing from inside my house. I was pretty sure it was our phone-- "Oh well, " I said to myself, "If it's important you'll call back later-- " I said to the air, "Besides, I'm not supposed to be here, I'm supposed to be at school." It would have taken me ATLEAST five minutes to get back out of here and that's if I was hurrying and I didn't want to hurry, not only could I get scratched up but I could get friggen stuck, 'Who the hell was calling anyways, in the middle of the day, when nobody will be home?' I reached two finger's up to my right ear,, brought the same hand to my mouth, and uttering the words, "Abracadabra" I pulled my hand away as a cigarette materialized out of thin air. "I love that trick," I said to myself. I then lit my second fag, and found my lungs a bit more used to the smoke now. I took a deep drag and held it in for a moment, as soon as my head felt dizzy, I let it out. I still had to think. I moved my position a bit, to get more comfortable. 'What the hell is wrong with my parents? Why didn't they wake me up this morning? Maybe they forgot-- or they were in a hurry-- okay?? So, why did they have a smoke out last night INSIDE THE HOUSE, after I went to bed, looking at photos of me in the family album and then leave the place a total mess this morning when they went to work and then wreck the garage before they left?' I didn't understand. I closed my eyes as I smoked my last cigarette. Images of that weird dream I had instantly came to my mind-- BOTH of them!! 'Double-hitter,' I thought to myself. I couldn't remember the last time I had two strange-ass dreams back to back like that in the same night. I took another drag; I had to think; what's going on? That's when I heard two kids approaching. After a moment I saw them as they rode their skateboards by; two yellow banana boards-- damn how I wanted one of those - they just looked so cool, especially with the kick-tail in the back-- but my mother wouldn't allow it-- she said she would have to quit her job, so she could sit at home and worry about me all day long, falling off the thing and breaking my neck-- I told her not to worry, the Bananas have polyurethane wheels-- smooth as silk, fully encased bearings, quiet as a mouse-- made by Alligator-- the trucks were tight too. I remember she had said to me, 'So, that guarantees me you won't break your neck right??' So, I gave up. The two boy's were about fifteen. 'Damn, ' I thought to myself, 'How'd they get so lucky that they aren't in school?' I then heard part of their conversation as they rode directly in front of me, one of them saying to the other: "Hey-- We're both gona have Christmas cash tomorrow - want to meet up at the Valley Arcade? "Yea dude-- Pac-Man fever," the other said. "No way dude-- Pac-Man sucks, Donkey Kong rocks with that stupid Italian guy Mario- whatever his name is- I can get to the elevator level-- it's radical." "Hey-" the first kid suddenly said pointing right at my front lawn. The two of them stopped right where they were on the skateboards. I held the smoke in my lungs as the two boy's were looking right in my direction. "That's the kid's house right there." "The one who's missing?" the other boy said. "Yea dude-- Tomorrow is going to be the suckiest Christmas ever for his parents." "Do you think they'll ever find him?" "Maybe his body," the first boy said, "That is such a bummer-- I knew that kid too-- he was kind of dorky but a nice kid." "What do you think happened to him?" "Who knows-- probably he was abducted." "From his own bedroom, in the middle of the night?" his friend asked incredulously. "Maybe he snuck out, who knows-- maybe he ran away." "I don't think he ran away," his friend said somberly. "Me either," said the first boy. Then they dropped their boards and pushed on. I was so confused, I was completely unable to think. "I need another cigarette," I said out loud as I began to maneuver myself carefully up off my butt. I carefully got up back on to my feet, my knee protesting as I did so, but with another loud pop it broke free and became animated. I carefully negotiated the tight spaces behind the garage, and reemerged back into uninhibited space once more. On the way back into the house, I passed by the large closet in the garage that my dad had converted into a darkroom. On compulsion I opened the door and walked inside. There was a chain hanging down from on overhead light bulb, and I pulled on it, and closed the door behind me which was quite efficient at totally blocking out all outside light. I stood there immersed in an eerie red glow. Although the light was bright enough to see by because of it's dark color it was difficult to see clearly. "Why did I come in here?" I asked myself. I opened the drawer that usually contained my dad's porno's. Not usually the hard core stuff, just Playboy and the like which I heard him say once to my mom he reads only for the articles. I looked inside the deep drawer, and on top of the stack of Playboy's was another pack of cigarettes-- but these weren't Marlboro's-- I reached in and grabbed them lifting them up into the weird Martian light and taking a look: they were 'Lucky' non-filters-- Oh crap-- my dad smoked those when he was a kid-- I pulled one out, and stuck it in my mouth-- I never smoked a non-filter before. I fished for the Zippo in my pocket and when I sparked it bringing its large lazy flame to life and the clear smell of lighter fluid, which somehow reminded me of my grandmother, who was no longer with us, and so I liked the smell. As I was lighting the cigarette, the bright flame lit up the room in more natural light, and that's when I noticed the manila envelope in the drawer with a letter on top of it. In the light of the Zippo light is when I also noticed the eight millimeter projector set up in the opposite corner with a white sheet hung up as an impromptu projector screen. "What the hell?" I said to myself, "Was my dad watching home movies?" I reached into the drawer and pulled out the envelope and the type-written letter laying on top of it. The Envelope was empty, but I brought the letter up to my face, holding onto the Zippo and using it as a small torch to read the letter-- it read: Dear Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey, The Sheriff's Department is now officially handling the disappearance of your son Dereck. We have experienced investigators now working on the case who do not believe that this is a typical run-away case. All of us at the department are hoping and praying that Dereck will soon be found unharmed however, as of the writing of this letter we have no leads as to the possible where-abouts of your son. Our top Detective working on the case is currently investigating a worst case scenario, like I said, we all here are hoping and praying but you have to understand we must investigate all possible leads. Last Thursday, the local police had questioned many children in your neighborhood, looking for any leads. On Friday two boy's that had been questioned came forward to the Sheriff's Department indicating that they were aware of a man in the neighborhood who had previously offered them both money to take photographs of them naked. The two boy's indicated that they did refused the offer however, they indicated that other children in the neighborhood had been approached by this individual as well and that there were roomers circulating amongst male minors in the general area that if they needed money this man would pay them to take pictures of them in the nude. On Saturday the Sheriff's Department raided this man's house. We were looking for Polaroid's or other photographs that we could identify as possibly being Dereck. We did not find any evidence of this nature, however, we did find in this man's possession an 8mm film which we have enclosed a copy for you in this envelope. The film shows graphic sexual acts taking place between two minor boys. Our top detective in the department believes that this was a professionally produced and commercially sold kiddy-porn film. The man's deposition is consistent with this. He claims that he responded to an ad in a gay magazine that he bought at a local adult book store. The film was mailed to him from Amsterdam, Holland where kiddy-porn is currently legal. The Department believes that there is every probability that this man had nothing to do with the production of this film, however, one of the two children in the film, bears a striking resemblance to your son Dereck. That is why we had asked for any and all photographs that you could provide us of your son Dereck. Our investigators have been studying the film and comparing the film to the photographs that you have provided us in an attempt to conclude either a positive identification or else to conclude that it is fact not your son, however, the film resolution is very poor. We had been trying to compare freckles and mole marks for a determined identification but at this time our crime experts are indicating that because of the resolution of the film such an identification may be impossible although they are still working on the case. This film would not have been recently produced-- our most logical guess is that the film was made at least two years or more prier. The two boy's in the film appear to be ten years old. Like I have indicated, we believe there is a small chance that this is your child, however, because of the striking resemblance we need you to view the film. There is something else our investigators have discovered-- We understand that your family has recently moved here from the airport area of Los Angeles. Our investigators have discovered that this individual's previous residence was also in the Los Angeles area, less than a mile from your previous address at the time that Dereck was ten years old. Pedophiles often times become fixated on a particular child particularly if they have already had intimate experiences with them. Our investigators conclude that this evidence would be consistent. If this individual had approached your son while you were living in Los Angeles, and involved him in the production of this film, it is very likely that after you moved this individual, being fixated on your son, might follow you. We need your help. We need you to watch the film. Because of the low resolution of the film, only someone who knows the child as intimately as a parent may be able to make a positive identification. Look for nuances, characteristics of movement, etc... you know your child, you know his most subtle motions-- we do not know your child. Watch the film. If, you can positively identify this child as your son, please notify the Sheriff's Department immediately. You must notify us within 72 hours. We have arrested this individual but we can only hold him for a maximum of 72 hours. Please make certain. Watch the film multiple times-- be aware that if you make a positive identification, we are going to charge this individual with murder. Again, we are all hoping and praying at the department that we find your son at a runaway shelter unharmed. Please watch the film, and let us know one way or the other within 72 hours. I put the envelope and the letter back in the drawer and turned my attentions to the projector in the far corner of the darkroom. When I approached the projector I noticed that the film had been threaded different than I had learned. The take-up spool had been by-passed, and apparently the end of the film had been spliced to the beginning of it in such a way that you could continuous play the film; when it got to the end it would start at the beginning again-- in other words it had been threaded into an endless loop, as though it were the intention of the person to watch the film over and over again and not have to be bothered with re-winding and replacing the spools each time it would be watched. This design of threading was convenient to watch the film over and over again without re-winding but would prove to be a total pain in the ass to re-spool when you were finally done with it. As it was, after analyzing the projector I believed that all I had to do was flip up the power switch to on and then flip up the lamp light next to it and the show should begin. I reached out and touched my finger to the two switches. I was anxious and I didn't know why. Obviously, I wasn't murdered. What was this all about, I wondered to myself. I flipped up the power switch and the projector motor came to life and the film started advancing. A moment later I switched the lamp light on, and immediately an image was projected onto the white sheet my dad had tacked up on the far wall. What I saw at first was total blackness. And then the words came on the screen that read: Colour Climax Corporation And then: Lover Boy's Part I And then what happened next is hard to describe. I was watching a movie, but, it was more like seeing a memory projected with magical light. The first scene comes on, and I'm starring at my friend Scott. You know, he was the one I was telling you about that we went inside some bushes at a park near where we used to live and he talked me into showing him mine and he would show me his. There he was, I could hardly believe it. Just as I remembered him-- ten years old. Scott was standing there inside the small clearing-- Scott had shoulder length snowy white hair, and was just a little taller than I was at that time. And there was little doubt in my mind that this was him. He was even wearing the clothes I remembered he had on that day; he was wearing a tan Hang-Ten polo shirt buttoned up to the top button which made him look cute as a dimple. He was wearing a pair of white Ocean Pacific corduroy shorts-- a pair of Keds high-top sneakers with no socks. As I sat on the stool and watched I saw another boy enter into the scene-- also about ten years old, and it was like looking in a mirror-- a time mirror. There I was, ten years old-- it was that day we had snuck into the bushes at the park-- I was wearing a turtle neck sweater-shirt, black with amber stripes-- I think my mom still has that sweater somewhere-- she had knit it for me. I was wearing a pair of blue Toughskin's long-jeans, which was totally typical for me at the time. And then a close-up of my left wrist - I'm wearing a watch-- it's an extreme close-up so I can see the watch clearly. It was brand new at the time-- a Timex with a diver's dial around the diameter that you could turn-- it was a totally cool watch, it was gray and black and a silver dial, the inside part faded from black to gray like a cloud-- my dad had ordered it for my tenth birthday I had picked it out from the Sears catalogue. I looked at my left wrist, there was my watch, a little scratched now, showing its age. I looked back at the screen, no longer a close-up, but that is definitely my watch. There was no sound but still the two boy's talked as though there was sound. I didn't have to read lips-- I knew everything that was being said. I sat and watched mesmerized... When we were both in the bushes, I said to Scott, "You go first." I watched as Scott pulled his shirt up to his chin and held it there with his chin pushing up against his bare chest. I then watched Scott unsnap the button on his shorts. I remembered what I was thinking, 'Is he really going to do it?' I starred at his hands working the snap loose, and then I watched in excited anxiety as he unzipped the zipper and then dropped his O.P. shorts to his ankles. He stood there wearing a pair of white briefs. "Now you," he said to me. I watched the other boy who was me do exactly what I remembered. I unsnapped my jeans and unzipped them as Scott stood there about three feet away and starred at my hands. I looked at his eyes and he also had an anxious look on his face. I then pulled my jeans down to my ankles and stood back up. Scott motioned with his hand for me to pull up my sweater- shirt and so I did up to my chin the same way as he had done so that my whole bare belly was showing. Scott shuffled his restricted and slightly bonded feet and inched his way closer to where I was standing. I did the same until we were standing only a foot apart from each other. I watched as Scott pulled the waistband of his briefs out, holding it that way, stretching the elastic of the waste band about six inches away from his smooth belly. I tried to lean forward so that I could look down inside of his underwear but Scott said, "Not yet-- Now you." I pulled the elastic of my J.C. Penny white briefs out so that we were now both standing there facing each other, our shirts held up by our chins, our pants wrapped around our ankles, and the front of our Jockey's stretched obscenely. I then leaned forward a bit so I could look down Scott's underwear. This time he didn't try to stop me, instead he leaned forward and we bumped foreheads. "Ouch!" I said. Scott laughed out loud, and so did I. "Okay," Scott said, "Go ahead and have a look first." I leaned forward unrestricted and looked down the front of his underpants. I saw Scott's smooth hairless lower abdomen, and his dick which was sticking strait forward. This was the first time I'd ever seen another boy's dick hard like that-- I knew my own got like that but I thought maybe I was the only one. After a few moments Scott reached up and pushed on my forehead, letting me know it was his turn now. I stood and waited for him to lean forward. After a moment when he didn't and feeling somewhat bolder suddenly, I pulled the front of my underwear down underneath of my balls to give Scott a full uninhampered view of all my private stuff. My wiener sticking strait out the same as I had seen Scott's do. Scott starred at my genitals and said, "Nice pee-pee" I laughed-- I couldn't help it. I then cleared my throat real loud, "Ahem..." Scott glanced up at me, "Ahem," I said one more time pointing to his underwear. Scott reached down with his other hand and bent over pulling his underwear all the way to his ankles, to entangle there with his corduroy shorts and then stood up strait again, readjusting his shirt under his chin. Scott and I starred at each other's genitals for several moments. Our dicks pointing towards one another, the heads of our dicks only inches apart. Scott pushed his pelvis forward so that his dick head touched mine. I laughed when he did that. I then grabbed my dick as though it were a sword and slapped it against Scott's hard dick. Scott laughed and then we kind of had like a little sword fight with our dicks, him grabbing his own dick and swooshing it back and forth as I was doing. We both started giggling and laughing and then suddenly, from all of the movement with our ankles duly bonded Scott lost his balance and fell on top of me knocking me backwards towards the ground with Scott falling directly on top of me. Scott starred at me our faces an inch apart and then he said, "Can I touch it?" "Okay," I said. Scott then scooted himself backwards propping himself up onto his knees in the process so that his face was right next to my still erect dick. He studied my dick for a few moments fascinated and then reached his hand and kind of knocked my boner around-- we both laughed at how springy it was. I watched as Scott then wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the head of my dick and gently squeezed. He then playfully squeezed it quickly three times which made me laugh again. He smiled. "Like that do you?" he asked as he looked up at me. I then propped myself up so I could see better, putting my arms out behind me for support while Scott played with my dick. Suddenly Scott opened up his mouth and tried to line his mouth up with my dick. "What are you gona do?" I asked. And then as if in response to my question Scott guided his mouth down, and I watched my dick disappear around his closed lips. "This isn't what happened?" I suddenly said out loud, "That never happened--" I continued watching, my heart starting to pound inside my chest, not exactly fear but definitely anxiety. I watched as Scott let my dick pop out of his mouth. "Why'd you do THAT?" I asked. "Did you like it?" he said. "I don't know, " I said, "Do it again." Scott put my dick back in his mouth and gave it another suck, and then popped it out again. "Keep sucking," I said from inside the movie. "This never happened," I said out loud from outside of the movie, "It didn't happen this way. After he played with my dick for a minute we got dressed and left the park nothing else ever happened after that." I continued to watch bewitched by the magic light. Was this a memory? A fantasy? did it really happen?? Was I hallucinating this? I was totally confused. I kept watching: Scott said, "If you promise to do me too," he said. I watched as I said, "Okay but me first," pointing at my dick with my finger repeatedly. Scott leaned over and started sucking my dick again. "Faster, " I said. Scott sucked faster and (was I remembering?) it felt good. I grabbed Scott's head and tried to make his suck it faster. Scott started to protest and pull off of my dick and I held his face down on my dick. I then reached with my other hand using both of my hands but he still managed to pull away. Scott stood up carefully since his feet were still bounded together. Pointing at his chest with his index finger repeatedly he said, "Okay my turn." It was then that I noticed the mole on his index finger. Large, dark and clearly identifiable. From outside the movie I said out loud, "That really is him-- I remember that mark." Totally astonished. I moved into a sitting up position moving my knees up in front of me as I scooted myself as close to Scott as I could get. Scott pushed his pelvis obscenely forward and I put his dick in my mouth and gave it a suck. I then looked up at him. "Keep going, " he said. I then put my lips around his dick again and started sucking. "Faster," Scott said. I sucked faster and Scott moved his hips even faster. He then grabbed my face with both hands and held my face still as he moved his dick in and out of my mouth really fast. "Keep sucking, suck harder.," he said. I sucked and sucked as Scott humped faster, after a few moments I struggled to pull away and after some resistance I finally broke free of Scott's grasp. The film then suddenly went black, and then a bunch of trailer went through the projector-- sideways numbers and letters and popping sounds, and then the screen went dark again and up came the words: Lover Boy's Part II by Coulour Climax And then, I was looking at a boy sitting down writing a letter outside. I looked at the boy and my heart sank. He was me. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. How was this possible?? I don't ever remember being in a movie. That time at the park, there was no one else there, it was just me and Scott-- I was totally bewildered, bewitched, and bespectacled. Then there was a close-up of the note I was writing which was in big block letters that read: Somewhere in the past every man finds himself... In the next scene, I'm at bus depot, and then another boy approaches me and shakes my hand. It's Scott. There was no doubt about it-- this was my friend Scott, and the other boy was me-- but how was this possible? I had a dream once that I had been in the movies-- it was a weird dream like in the dream I suddenly remembered that I had been in the movies and was a movie star but had totally forgotten. In fact it had been a recurring dream, in each dream I'd suddenly remember that I had been a secret movie star. I continued to watch the movie, and in the movie the two boys are having a sleep-over. I did actually have a sleepover at this kid's house one time-- but I don't recollect what actually DID happen at that sleepover. My friend Scott was wearing white denim Levi jeans and a plaid red and white button down shirt that he wore un-tucked. I was wearing brown jeans, and a brown country-and-western shirt, which I actually remembered wearing at that age. 'How is this possible??' I asked myself. "This is the sleepover, I'm sure of it but nobody was there filming-- I don't understand." I watched as the two boy's undressed and climbed into bed wearing nothing but their underwear. After a while the boy who was me, looks at his sleeping friend, and convinced that he's really asleep reaches under the bed to pull out a porno-magazine. He then starts looking at the porno and gets an erection in his Jockey shorts. He then gets up out of the bed, pulls his underwear off and climbs back into the bed where he then masturbates himself while looking at the porno mag. "I didn't even know how to masturbate at that age--" I whispered to myself. At this point my friend Scott wakes up and is eyeing me but continues to feign sleep each time I look over at him. Then the other boy who is my friend Scott, yawns and rolls over so that he is now facing me. I stop masturbating for a moment but once again when I become convinced that he's asleep, I start jerking off again. Suddenly my friend Scott wakes up, and stretches his hand out. That's when I noticed the distinct mole on his left index finger again. '"This is definitely my friend Scott," I say out loud. I then see on his right palm which is facing the camera a distinct perfectly symmetrical triangle that appears to have been burned or cut into the palm of his hand. "I never remembered seeing that before," I said out loud. Scott then grabs my genitals and starts stroking my cock. From that point on in the film, first Scott sucks my dick and then we get into a sixty nine position where we both suck each other. Then my friend Scott asks me, "Want to fuck me?" My friend bends over and tells me to rub Vaseline into his ass which I do, and then I proceed to fuck him. I watched totally astonished, "This never happened, " I keep repeating to myself. Afterwards we kiss with open mouths, and I suck my friend Scott off some more and we both jack each other off to orgasm. And the film ends with my friend Scott winking at the camera just before turning out the light. And then the film starts again at the beginning of Part I again the end having been spliced to the beginning in an endless loop. I shut the projector off. "This has got to be a dream," I said to myself. This was so damn peculiar. This was no novice made film. There was no doubt in my mind it was professionally made. First off, there was industrial lighting used. Second off, there are only a hand full of cameras that could have been used to film this. This was definitely no 8mm camera you could bye at K-mart for $69. I am somewhat educated when it comes to photography and I know for a fact being an armature photographer myself that the camera they used was both auto-focus and capable of zoom I would estimate between 50mm to 150mm and that a camera that could do that -- I knew exactly what kind of cameras could do that-- in 1974, a camera like that would cost $4,000 to $8,000 dollars-- definitely NOT armature shit-- you add in there professional lighting and other stuff and I had no doubt this was a professional camera team that filmed this little puppy-- this was definitely not, some drunken dad at home that just bought a $69 dollar 8mm camera at K-mart that filmed this. Also the color in the film was outstanding, the color processing alone would have cost a small fortune even for a couple of short ten minute films and then the other thing is where in the hell did they process the film?? You certainly couldn't take a film like this and have it processed at a professional film processing company. What completely amazed me is that the scene seemed so completely natural-- me and Scott seem to be acting in complete spontaneity, creating the illusion quite profound that this was a genuine scene of two boys experimenting with one another. I even had this strange intuition that it might really have happened but I'm certain Scott and I slept together at his house just ourselves-- no camera team-- just us. And the most completely amazing thing about it-- I don't remember any of it. I did remember spending the night at his house- - but don't remember anything sexual happening-- the only thing sexual I remember was that day at the park where me and Scott showed our dicks to each other and I let Scott stroke mine for a bit. I do know it was Scott though, because in the film I saw the mole on his right index finger. "How is this possible??" I asked myself. Just then the door opened to the darkroom from the garage. I turned around on the stool I was sitting on and there was my dad, toting a bottle of Ukon Jack, and slightly swaying as he stood. My dad looked at my quizzically, I looked at him in the same way-- he smelled strong of whiskey. He set the fifth on the desk. "Dereck," he said questioningly. "Dad?" I responded. "Have you been smoking?" my dad asked. "Have you been drinking?" I asked. "Holy Mary Mother of God-" he said, and reached out and pulled me to his chest and hugged me as tight as a funeral drum. And then my dad started crying. After a few moments, I pulled away from his embrace. I guess I started crying to, I didn't really know why. I glanced at the glass bottle of whiskey on the desk half empty, with my dad's car key's setting next to the bottle. With tears rolling down my face I said, "Drinking and driving dad?" "Yea-- I wrecked the car," he said with more than a slight slur- - I almost knocked down the entire garage trying to park the car last night." "I noticed," I said, "Are you alright?" "Who gives a fuck-- Dereck!! We thought you were dead-- the police-- never mind-- where the hell have you been?!" I shrugged my shoulders. "Are you mad at me?" "Mad? No-- I'm not mad-- I'm the happiest man on Earth." My dad then slumped down on to the ground eventually finding a sitting position with his legs outstretched in front of him. He put his hands over his face and sobbed into his hands. I was speechless. After a few moments he regained some composure and said as casual as could be, "Your mom's in the hospital. She had a nervous breakdown." "I didn't do this on purpose," I said. "Where have you been?" my dad asked, "Tomorrow's Christmas." "I don't know," I said, "I can't remember." And then my dad passed out. I wiped my tears off of my face with the sleeve of my arm. I lit another lucky. I stared at the bottle of whiskey. I unscrewed the lid. I brought the lip to my nose and smelled. It smelled like gasoline. I looked at my dad-- I said, "Dad?" Nothing. No response. I said it again louder, "Dad--" Still nothing. "Oh fuck it," I said and took a swig. It TASTED like Gasoline. I coughed after I swallowed. Took another drag off of the non-filter-- coughed some more, and then took another swig of the Jack. It tasted horrible, but a moment later there was a really nice warm feeling that came over me. It was a really nice feeling. Numbness. I took another swig-- more numbness. Oh this was good-- I took another swallow of the liquid fire. It was numbing more than just my body now, it was moving into my brain-- Now I could think. I had to think. Just then the cat came in. The black cat I'd seen earlier. "Hi Lucky," I said, which came out more like 'Hi Luu-eey" I took another swig, and then held out the bottle towards Lucky, "Care for a drink?" I set the bottle down on the desk and moved over towards the film projector. I looked at it and then with one swift kick, I knocked the projector over. I fell on my ass and laughed, "Goddamn it--" I whispered and got back up. I then grabbed film in both fists and started pulling and ripping and tearing-- this went on for several minutes when I suddenly got thirsty again. I moved too quickly and fell on my ass again right into the pile of film on the ground. I tore more film as I carefully got back into a standing position. I looked at the cat who was just standing there staring at me. No meow's or nothing-- silent as a ghost. I finally got back on my feet and was going to move back towards the desk to get the bottle but first, I had to go to the bathroom. I stood over the film, and managed my dick out of my pants and pissed all over the film, and then I threw up all over the film. I stood over the film and my head cleared a bit, "Oh damn-- now I have to drink more," I said out loud. I sat carefully on the stool and put the bottle up to my mouth. About a quarter of a bottle left. I leaned my head way back and drank the fire-- I tried to drink it all but about two thirds the way through my chug-a-lug, the cat suddenly jumped up on my lap screeching and knocked me backwards-- I tumbled onto the floor the glass bottle shattering as it fell out of my hands. I looked at the cat-- her fur a perfect pitch of darkness, the same pitch that was moving into my mind. A perfect Halloween cat; a witches cat. "Whad yoooo do that frrrrrr Luu-eey?" I said starring at the cat from the floor. Lucky then disappeared before my very eyes. Her eyes turned red just before she vanished leaving only two red bright dots that just sat there suspended in mid-air where her eyes were, and then the red lights flashed out of the room at lightning quick speed. "So that's how the Cheshire cat does it," I said out loud with badly slurred speech. And then I passed out. The next thing I remember, my dad has me over the toilet in the bathroom, and he's sticking his finger down my throat. "I'm sorry Dereck-- get it all out-- get it all out Dereck" he's saying to me as I keep heaving into the toilet. I'd throw up a little, and then my dad would shove his finger back down my throat and then a little more would come up. "Please stop, please stop dad," I said. "You got to get all out," and then the finger again-- damn, my whole body ached, my abdomen was sore. After several more times, all I would do was dry heave. My dad finally let go of me, and I fell sideways. I felt my eyes rollup into the back of my head but I never felt myself hit the bathroom floor. The next thing I remember is someone is shining a bright light right into my eyes. "Dereck-- Wake up-- Dereck, Dereck, Dereck..." I tried to close my eyes but somebody was holding them open. "Dereck-- say something if you can hear me-- Dereck-- Dereck can you hear me?? Nod if you can hear me--" I nodded and then darkness again. When I woke up I was in a hospital bed. There were curtains around me and I could hear people talking on the other side of the curtains. There was a really nice nurse with me that asked me how I felt and I said okay and such. She gave me a couple of pills to take, and then she walked back through the curtain. And then the talking on the other side of the curtain and shadows. And then suddenly my dad came inside of the curtains. "Hi baby," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Hi dad," I said. "How are you feeling?" "Okay," I lied. "Headache?" "No," I said. "Actually I feel pretty good." "It's probably the Ativan," my dad said. "Listen, there's a man from the FBI who would like to talk to you, are you feeling up for it?" "Sure, why not." I said. My dad pulled the curtain open a bit and stuck his arm through, a moment later a strange man I didn't know dressed in a shirt and tie came in. "How you doin'?" the man asked me. "Okay," I said. "90 proof-- whoo, you gave everybody a scare," he said, "that shit 'aint soda" "I found that out," I said. "Listen, Dereck, um, did you watch that film?" "Yes." "What did you think?" "I don't know." "Is that you-- in the film?" I looked at him strait in the eye, "No." I said. "No-- It's not?" "No, it's not." "It looks like you?" "Well- It's not." "I see." The FBI guy handed me a photograph, "You know this guy?" I looked at the photograph, "No," I said. "You sure?" "Yes, I don't know the guy-- never saw him before in my life." "I see." "Your mother says that you used to wear a sweater just like the one in the film," "It's similar," I said. "And she also said that you used to have a friend that looks just like that other boy." "There's a slight resemblance." "What was his name? Scott?" "Yes, he looks a little like Scott but it's not him," I said. "I see," "We would like to talk to this Scott-- Do you remember where he lives?" "No." "Nice watch," The agent said to me, suddenly grabbing hold of my wrist. "Thanks," I said. "Looks familiar," he said. "I'm sure Sears sold like three million of these to boy's my age-- It's a coincidence." "So, you noticed that too?" "Yea so," "Listen Dereck-- I don't know how much of this you're going to understand but I'm going to tell you anyways-- the FBI is well aware of these films-- there's a bunch of them" "Yea so," I said. "Well, these are professionally produced, marketed and sold-- It's the first time that's ever happened in history-- we want to know how they're doing it-- we know that the films are being post- edited, advertised and sold through the international market out of Amsterdam where child, um, pornography is legal. However, all the kids in these films are American kids-- they were all filmed in America. " "Okay," I said. "The FBI is putting together an operation that's going to be the biggest operation in history-- We're gona sweep the entire country." "Okay," I said. "Well to be honest-- we'd really like to catch the guy's that are making these films-- we think they live right here in Southern California and are part of the Hollywood film industry but we can't prove it-- the thing is Dereck-- We have completely failed to identify one single one of the boy's in these films-- and we don't know how they did it-- We're completely baffled. You can help us." "How's that?" I asked. "Tell us what you know." "I don't know anything," I said. "I see," said the agent. The man got up as if to go then he stopped, "I just have two more questions for you son and then I'll let you get some rest and visit with your dad," "Okay," "Why did you destroy the film?" "I don't know I was drunk-- I'd never been drunk before." "Drunk is an understatement-- they had to pump your stomach." I hunched my shoulders. "If it wasn't you-- why did you destroy the film?" "I don't know-- Like I said, I was drunk." "You weren't angry-- it seems to me that you were kind of angry," "No-- I wasn't angry-- I was just drunk." "I see," said the agent. "One more thing..." "Yes," I said. "You want to tell me what happened?" "Listen," I said, "You got the wrong guy-- Like I said, I've never seen him before in my life." "Are you sure?" "Yes," "Where have you been for the last week?" I hunched my shoulders, "I don't know. I don't remember." "I see, " said the agent, "Well, here's my card-- call me direct, if you remember anything, or change your mind about anything." "I will," I said. And then the FBI agent exited through the curtain. My dad came back in, and sat next to me, and brushed my hair with his hand. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Fine," "Everything's going to be okay," "I nodded exhausted." "Dereck?" "Yea dad?" "I love you." "I love you too." "Get some sleep now," he said. I guess the Ativan's were hitting me now because I suddenly found myself relaxing and floating off to sleep with my dad stroking my hair. "Dad?" "Yes Dereck?" "How's mom?" "She's going to be okay. We're all going to be okay. Get some sleep now, later on I have a special surprise for you." "Whaa?" I asked already falling asleep. "You'll see." For several minutes I was in a twilight sleep where I was sleeping but kind of awake at the same time. I heard voices from the other side of the curtain: "It appears that we were mistaken, you're son says he's never met the man before." "But the sweater, the watch, the resemblance?" "Co-incidence." "Where has he been? What did he say?" "He can't remember." "So, that's it your just going to let this guy walk?" "Unless your son gives us something more to go on, the FBI is going to close the case-- The sheriff's Department might investigate him further, but there's no evidence he's committed a crime." "And offering kid's money to take pictures of them?" "It's alleged." "Owning child pornography?" "That's complicated-- Like I told your son, later this year or at the latest early 1980 Congress is probably going to pass strict new legislation which will allow the FBI and U.S. Customs to conduct the largest criminal investigation / operation in U.S. history but unfortunately as of right now there is no federal law that he's violated by owning that film as long as there's no evidence that he was involved sexually with a minor. At best they could charge him with a misdemeanor-- It's complicated because these movies are a legitimate business, they are being legally produced, edited, and commercially sold and distributed through Holland. His story is that he responded to an add in a gay magazine and they sent him the film. U.S. custom's hands are tied until Holland repeals that legislation. Right now these films are flooding into this country and even though we know they're being filmed here we don't know who is involved, how they do it, or who the children are. Right now, we can't even force these U.S. magazine companies to pull the ad's from their magazines. "Do you think he's telling the truth?" "We have no evidence to the contrary." "But that still doesn't answer the question? Where has my son been the last week?" "Ask him?" "He says he doesn't remember?" "Maybe he went sleepwalking-- that's not all that uncommon you know-- or maybe he ran away and doesn't want to admit it. If you want, we would need your permission though, we can have a doctor examine him for any physical evidence of molestation or rape." "Do you think that's necessary?" "No-- not unless Dereck is willing to say more." "So that's it then?" "Good Day Mr. Ramsey." The next thing I remember, my dad is putting me into the car. "Where are we going dad?" "Oh look whose awake. It's a surprise." A few minutes later my dad pulled up into the driveway of Sean and Tommy's house. I saw a black cat that looked just like Lucky, in the car's headlight's just before it darted into the bushes. "I'm going to the hospital to spend the night with your mom-- she's feeling better you know-- your going to spend a few days with your friends-- I've already talked to their parents-- they would love you to spend Christmas with them. Stay here with them Dereck, while I get your mother all better, okay?" "Okay dad." Just then I saw the front door open to the house and out came Sean and Tommy and their mom and dad. It looks like Christmas wasn't cancelled after all. My dad looked at me, "I'll call you tomorrow." "Okay," I said. I got out of the car and everyone greeted me. "Hey Dereck," my dad said. "Yes dad," "Everything's going to be alright." "Okay," I turned towards my friends. "Dereck?" My dad said again. "Yes," "Merry Christmas-- I love you." "I love you too dad." After talking to my dad for several minutes-- we all went into the house. "I danced in the mornin' when the world was begun and I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun I came down from heaven and I danced on the Earth at Bethlehem I had my birth Dance dance where ever you may be I am The Lord of the Dance said He I'll lead you all where ever you may be I'll lead you all in the dance said He I danced for the scribes and the pharacees But they would not dance they would not follow me I danced for the fishermen for James and John And they came with me and the dance went on I danced on the Sabbath and the cubuling, the holy people said it was a shame They whipped and they stripped and they hung me on high And left me there on the cross to die... ...I danced on the Friday and the sky turned black It's hard to dance with a nipple on your back They buried my body and they thought I was gone But I am the dance and the dance goes on They cut me down but I leapt up high I am The Life that will never never die I'll live in you if you'll live in me 'cause I am The Lord of the Dance said He. -The Lord Of The Dance (Irish-Celtic folksong) "A long long time ago I can remember how that music used to make me smile And I knew if I had my chance that I could make those people dance... ...Did you write the book of Love? And do you have faith in God above? If the bible tell you so. And do you believe in rock 'n' roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance, real slow?" Bye Bye Miss American Pie (Don McClain) "Once upon a time, once when you were mine, I remember skies reflected in your eyes I wonder where you are I wonder if you think about me Once upon a time in your wildest dreams.. Once the world was new our bodies felt the morning dew that meets the brand new day we couldn't tear ourselves away I wonder if you care I wonder if you still remember Once upon a time in your wildest dreams And when the music plays and when the words are touched with sorrow and when the music plays I heard the sound I had to follow Once upon a time... In your wildest dreams... -Wildest Dream (Moody Blues) Author: Sorry I took so long with Chapter Ten-- This story is spooky-- it even spooks me. Please give me feedback so I know if its worth the effort to write more. I have no idea what I will write next-- spooky spooky spooky-- Happy Halloween. - Darron The Witch. Please post comments to darronthewitch@yahoo.com