Date: Wed, 05 Apr 2000 12:30:39 PDT
From: da Beagle <dabeagleywing@hotmail.com>
Subject: Re: moving is hard 7

Authors note: Sorry this is so long in coming, but life is what happens
while you are busy making other plans! I have had a lot of work from my
clients over the past few weeks, took in a show with the wife, worked on the
car, tried to train the dogs a bit.. You know, stuff! Anyway, I need time to
let the story come to me, and it seems to have done so.  So, don't touch my
hand this time, I still can't get rid of the shit you had on yours the last
time. :)

	The room seemed to swim in a fantastic kaleidoscope of color and solid
object seemed to gain flexibility akin to silly putty.  As the furniture
stretched I noticed that it was also reforming into pieces I had never seen.
  A small bed, surely belonging to a child began to materialize, as well as
a small chest. Perhaps for toys.  A chair was placed next to the window like
a lone soldier standing watch at the window. Gradually the walls solidified
into a bright, off white color. Other that the bed, chest and chair the room
was barren.  I tried to walk to the door, but it seemed as though I was
gliding, and I found that I continued to glide right through the door into
the hallway.  The hallway was decorated with a burgundy and gold tapestry
from floor to ceiling.  Small half-moon tables were set strategically
through the hallway with pictures above them on the wall or small
knick-knacks arranged upon them.  I began to sink through the floor, but it
didn't really feel like that.  More like I was being pulled. As the last of
the ceiling was removed from my line of sight I noticed that I was now in my
living room, but that wasn't right either. The cream colored sofa we had
with the cigarette burn on the left armrest was gone.  In it's place was one
of those half couches, where the back slopes away at one end, seeming to
taper away and deny someone the comfort of whoever was unfortunate enough to
occupy that end.
	The floors were now hardwood with an Oriental rug draped across the center.
  Before my eyes a hole was worn into the center as if a million feet
suddenly wore a hole in it, just like time delayed photography.  Then the
rug snapped into being again.  I had the sensation of being pulled again,
now towards the kitchen.  There was a handsome young man with a pencil
mustache standing over a woman who appeared to have fallen.  She tried to
stand but as her body ascended a vicious fist emerged and embedded itself
into her kidney. She moaned and slid down the cabinet into her former
slouched position.
	"You don't ever want to talk to me like that." Pencil moustache said, "Not
ever.  The good book says that you will OBEY me, woman.  If I say that whelp
doesn't get the bike, then he don't get it."
	She stayed where she was, gasping for breath.  A mask of fear hid her
thoughts, but her eyes betrayed her.  I spotted her gaze moments before
pencil moustache did.  If I could have warned her, I would have. But I was
motionless; the strings that moved me wouldn't allow me to comfort or
defend.  It seemed that my purpose here was to observe.
	Her eyes only fixed for a moment before moving on, but that was all it
took. Pencil moustache followed that brief gaze and his face darkened.
	"Is it not enough that you have broken the sanctity of your vows, now you
would commit a mortal sin? You are no child of god."
	He seemed to consider for a moment, then faced her fully having reached
some decision.
	"Demon," He said quietly, "Demon of hell, get thee gone from this woman.
This house has been blessed by god as has our union, and you must be driven
out. Release her in the name of god almighty!" His voice crescendoed and
shook the pane of glass over the sink.
	She glared at him with unmistakable hate.
	"There," He cried," The demon shows his true nature, get thee gone!" He
lunged at her and the unmistakable sound of breaking bone and a cry of human
suffering rolled over me like a sudden wave, and I braced myself for the
next deluge that would flow over me and tear my tenuous form away.
	But that next cry never came.  He knelt over her shaking his head from side
to side.
	"Satan," he murmured, "You possessed my wife and whispered the adulterers
prayed to her ear.  And she was defenseless. And she bore that child which
was conceived outside the bonds of marriage, and brought it to our home. But
that wasn't enough was it? You planted thoughts that the child, a bastard,
should grow under the shadow of decency like a tumerous growth.  Did you
think I would not see?  And now you have taken my precious wife from me. Now
you have laid another cross upon my shoulders.  I shall not allow others to
know of your work here tonight, evil prince.  I shall hide your evil works
from the world, and not allow the satisfaction you would have at dragging my
beautiful wife through the mud."
	And he began to weep.
	I glanced about the room, anywhere but at the unfortunate woman in the
corner.  As I did I noticed a small child in the doorway, a boy of about
six.
	"Papa?  Is mommy ok?" He asked.
	At this point the child seemed to notice me, and then to speak.
	"I was seven when he killed my mother.  I found out later that he thought
she had committed adultery, but he had administered beatings to her for such
major infractions as not replacing an ornament in exactly the same spot
after cleaning."
	That child spoke and yet my mind had a hard time grasping the caliber of
words being expressed by this tiny being.
	"Come on, one more thing to show you." The child said.
	The room blurred again, but Jake's voice did not.  If anything it deepened
and he began to speak in my head again.
	"After my mother died he told people that she had gone to Boston to take
care of a sick relative.  Of course he later told people that she died
there.  As I grew up he began to beat me for small things as well; in fact
nothing was too small for him to beat me for.  Then, when I had just turned
sixteen, I decided to confide in Julius.  See Julius was going to have a
hard time and I think I was the first one to spot it. You see Julius would
look a guy overt the same way I looked at Tracy Marshall.  So I thought I
should do something to prove my love for him before I told him I knew,
because you see I did love him.  Julius was my best friend through
everything.  He never made fun of my tears when I cried for my mother, or
when I cried after my father would really go to town on me.  Julius never
hurt anyone, but he was always there for me.  He was one of those kids who
are on the sidelines cheering on the jocks like me to score for them.  And
he never understood that I needed him as much as he needed me.  I mean, what
point is there in scoring a touchdown if no one knows about it, right? So, I
decided to kiss him. I figured it wouldn't be so bad. But it didn't happen
the way I planned."
	As he spoke images swirled, formed and fragmented to be replaced by another
form.  In each frame there were two boys.  Sometimes they laughed and
sometimes they cried, but whatever they did they did it together.
	The room began to form again and two boys stood before me.  I recognized
Jake and realized the other was Julius. They leaned into each other and the
door burst open.  It was pencil moustache and he had taken the boys by
surprise. He cuffed Jake to the floor with a shout about devils' work in his
house ordered Julius out.  Jake mouthed for him to go, and Julius did.  What
happened next was too much to bear.  His father grabbed him by the hair and
slammed him face first into the wall and his nose exploded into a bloody
smear on the wall.  Pencil moustache reached between Jake's legs and
squeezed his testes.  Jake groaned in pain as pain flowered from his groin
and up into his belly like a hot, greasy lead weight.
	"I knew you weren't mine," he breathed in to Jake's ear, "My flesh and
blood would never allow itself to be used like that.  God struck down Sodom
and Gomorrah, and your kind were the reason why.  So this must be gods
will."
	He slammed Jake's face in to the wall again leaving a second bloody smear,
then grabbed his left arm and twisted it viciously up and between his
shoulder blades.  Jake moaned.  His arm suddenly gave way and twisted at an
unnatural angle.  Jake slid bonelessly to the floor.
	The view blurred momentarily and I didn't recognize the room.  It was dark
save for the single light guttering on a wooden table. A potion of the brick
wall that served as the border for this room lay in a cluttered pile on the
floor.  Jake was also on the floor, but he wasn't moving.  He was bound
tightly hand and foot with twine that bit savagely into his skin.  Another
band of twine was cinched about his upper thighs and his upper chest.
	"I am going to give you the same judgement your mother received, you
misbegotten bastard." His father said.
	He lifted Jake in to the open area and then withdrew.  He then moved the
candle closer to the open portion of the wall and set it on the ground.  He
reached inside his coat, which was hanging from a nail on the wall and
removed a small glass flagon of clear liquid.  He uncapped it and began to
spray it over Jake's still form, which began to stir.
	"May god accept you into the kingdom of heaven and purify your soul in
fire." Chanted his father.
	Terror showed through Jake's eyes as his father began to cement the bricks
in place on his grave, in the side of the wall.
	I would like to say that Jake died as he lived, with courage and
conviction.  But He did not, he screamed and begged and pleaded to the deaf
monster that was walling his life into the foundation of the building.  He
cried much to no avail.  When the last brick was in place and the candle
extinguished I could still hear the cries through the wall.

	As light began to filter through to my consciousness I awoke to the
concerned face of Kyle looking down on me from a kneeling position.  I sat
up and felt the tears that had filled the sockets of my eyes and roll down
my face.

	"Are you ok?" Kyle asked.
	I looked around the room, my room again.  I looked back at my friend and
nodded.
	"I know where Jake is." I said.