skinblade

Start from the beginning and read Dream #1

Danny was laying in bed.

He pulled the covers over his head, and began coughing loudly. He was gagging, coughing up solid chunks of mucus. He pulled his head out from beneath the covers and spit the glob of mucus into the trash bin beside his bed.

There was a knock at his door. His mom came into the bedroom carrying a tray. She set the tray on the night stand next to Danny’s bed.

“I brought you some water and chicken soup,” she said feeling his forehead. “My, you’re still burning up. I guess you’ll have to stay in bed tonight and miss Bible Study.”

“But I already missed the morning service, ma,” Danny said. He began coughing again. The force of the cough caused his head to begin throbbing. He could feel his heart beating, pumping the blood through his veins, on his temple. The pain forced him to shut his eyes.

“Oh, baby,” his mom lightly tapped on his chest. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you tonight?”

“No,” Danny said opening his eyes briefly. “You and dad go on ahead. Just do me a favor, and ask them to pray for me.”

“Of course, baby.”

His mom leaned over him and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead. She stood up, picked up the spoon beside the bowl of soup, and gently mixed the chicken soup. The spoon tinkled against the bowl one last time as she placed the spoon down.

“I want you to eat all of this soup,” she said, “and then take your medicine, and get some rest.”

“Yes, ma,” he said trying desperately to bring a smile to his face.

She left the room.

Danny’s headache was getting worse. He had done it to himself, coughing and gagging like he did just to be able to escape from Bible Study. He opened the top drawer of the night stand, pulled out a bottle of Tylenol, unscrewed the cap, shuffled the bottle until it vomited two white pills, put the pills in his mouth, then reached over, grabbed the water from the tray, and swallowed the pills.

He waited until he heard the front door close, until he heard the old Volks start and drive away. Then he threw the sheets off and made his way to the closet. He picked out some clothes and threw them on.

He went out into the hall. He moved uneasily down the hall, the pills still not taking their effect, through the living room, and finally made it to his father’s study. He went straight to the desk and opened one of the side drawers.

“C’mon,” he said aloud. “Where the hell are you?”

He shuffled paper around in the drawer. He couldn’t find what he was looking for, so he shut that drawer and tried the next one.

“I know you’re in here somewhere, you little bastard. What the fuck?! Where are-”

He felt the key beneath a piece of paper. He pulled the drawer all the way out, tossed the paper aside, and grabbed the little silver key. He held the key greedily and walked over to the gun cabinet on the opposite side of the room.

He shoved the key in the keyhole, turned it clockwise, heard the click of the lock, and opened the glass door. He didn’t grab the hunting rifle, or the shotgun, or even the authentic Browning Automatic Rifle his father had bought at an auction. No, instead he looked down where the butt of the large weapons were cradled and saw what he was looking for.

It was a pistol. His father had told him the name of the pistol, the maker, it’s caliber, but Danny had long since forgotten those useless details. He picked up the pistol. It was heavier than he remembered. His dad had taken him shooting the year before, just to get him oriented with gun safety.

Danny blanked out for a second as he held the pistol in his hand. His thoughts wandered back to Junior High School when he used to play Dungeons & Dragons with Phil and the others. They used to play every weekend, sometimes during the week, at school, during lunch. Then one day, his parents discovered Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior, and they forbade him to continue playing “that devil worshiping game”. And he did, because he loved his parents. But Phil wouldn’t just let Danny quit. He had to hound on him. Tell everyone he was a mama’s boy – a pussy.

And it didn’t end there, because a few month’s later Halloween came around. Danny was still talking to the other kids he used to play Dungeons & Dragons with – they didn’t much listen to Phil back then. But when Phil told them that Danny couldn’t go out with them on Halloween to toilet paper houses because Danny had to go to Hallelujah-ween and worship the Lord, the other’s finally stopped talking to him. He just wasn’t cool enough for them anymore. But Danny loved his parents, and respected them, and they had never led him astray, so he listened to them and kept worshiping the Lord along with them.

Danny, somehow, made it through Junior High School. Alone, bitter, jaded, prepubescent, but he had made it. In High School he realized Phil would never leave him alone. Phil was wearing black by then. He had dyed his hair black, too. Some of the kids at school said that he had given himself a tattoo with a needle and pen ink, but that was just a rumor. And there was Danny, sitting outside the Science Building – eating his sandwich and trying desperately not to attract too much attention. One day Phil came over with one of his friends. Phil was a tiny troll compared to the giant orc who stood next to him. All Phil had to do was point at Danny, and the big lug called Mook started pounding on him. What could Danny do but take the punches and the kicks, and just pray to the Lord to give him the strength to make it through the pummeling.

It didn’t stop there, that day. No, it kept happening! Mook kept beating on him every chance he got. Danny was smart enough not to tell any one. He knew that would only make it worse. So, he took the beatings. He let them happen. He never told his parents, because he loved them, he respected them, and he didn’t want them to worry.

And every time a fist, or a shoe, landed on his pale, clammy skin, his faith in the Lord slipped a little. It went down a notch. His faith was drained from him, just like his pride had been drained from him, just like the blood had been drained out of every wound over the two years of beatings.

His faith was finally chiseled completely away two days ago, on Friday, when Mook was walking down the hall towards him, and, without even looking at Danny, he stuck out his arm and closed lined him. Danny fell to the floor, and he swore he heard something break inside of him. Later on he would learn that it was his hope. It would never end. He would have to do something.

Danny looked up from the floor, and saw Phil and Mook giving each other high-fives, laughing it up. He looked around to see everyone else around him laughing too.

Oh, but Danny heard something, something that made him laugh too. He heard Phil’s voice in the distance saying to Mook, “See you Sunday at the water tower.”

Then Danny heard Mook ask, “What time?”

Danny picked himself up, he strained to hear them, and he turned his head and aimed his ear, and heard, “Seven.” His tiny hands balled up to fists and he knew then that Sunday would be the end of them.

Continue to Dream #3 - Father of the Year