Whispers in Wonderland

== WHISPERS IN WONDERLAND ==
=== By Cam Rascoe ===
Published in StoryStar 2011
Through fields of grain they run, arms wide pretending to be birds
soaring through the sky, each one trying to fly higher than the other. They
glide in and out of formation one in front of the other laughing and giggling
the whole way. Early twilight, sky golden as the sun slowly sets illuminating
the field in which they play. The boy’s smiling faces glow. Each bird tries to
fly faster than the others racing to the clearing. A tie, none faster than the
others, they each complete their journey at the same time. High fives and good
jobs go all around. The field leads into a playground with everything from
swings to a bouncy house. Three boys, Treyvone, Kristopher and Chauncey, take
off their ball caps and throw them in the air in celebration for the great time
they were about to have. Not a care in the world, the boys were in heaven
climbing on the monkey bars one minute, spinning around on the merry go ‘round
the next. The playground is theirs’ alone on this special late afternoon in the
summer’s sun. No happier could a young boy be frolicking around with no
restraints. 
Parched they became, so over to the water fountain they ran to get their
sips in. Sips turn to hard swallows, hard swallows turn to gulps. Front of
shirts become wet as the three amigos begin to splash and chase one another
with hands cupped full of water. More water leaked through their little fingers
onto their shirts than actually stayed in their palms to be thrown at their
friends. Joy, pure joy and elation they felt, the warm evening air drying their
shirts as they climbed onto the swings. Back and forth they swung, one trying
to swing higher than the other laughing up and down. Treyvone, Kristopher and
Chauncey loved their playground. It was their personal wonderland.
Most young boys are inflicted with a serious sweet tooth; these three
were no exception. Kristopher waved his little hand to his two friends in a
“c’mon” motion. They quickly followed. Off the playground and down a dandelion
covered hill they ran. Race car noises they made during this race. Pretending
to be gripping steering wheels they weaved through the patches of sun colored
weeds. Suddenly each of them put on their brakes and came to a screeching stop.
Three weeds were plucked from the earth’s floor and held up to little lips.
Blow they did, hard sending what they called white feathers through the humid
air. Just then a gust of wind blew through lifting the feathers high up into
the atmosphere. The boys pointed up trying to follow the feathers until they
were no longer visible. Little eyes shined, the late sun reflecting off their
pupils. Another race was in order.
“One your mark, get set, go!”
Treyvone yelled as the three took off once again. Motivated by their
sweet teeth the three raced on to the next destination, the ice cream stand.
Once again the race ended in a tie as they each touched the small building in
the shape of an ice cream cone at the same time. What do you know? No line.
From their pockets each pulled a coin, placed them on the counter and placed
their orders. Soft serve in huge waffle cones is what they sold. The boys’
mouths watered watching each cone being made, vanilla for Treyvone, Strawberry
for Kristopher and Chocolate for Chauncey. Under a large tree covered in
Spanish moss they sat looking up at what they pretended to be large grey and
green spiders hanging from the huge branches. Another gust blew giving the
spiders life. They danced back and forth to the boys’ delight. Giggles were
shared as the sun still sat in the same place. It seemed daylight savings time
was working overtime.
By the time they finished their cones ice cream ran from their little
hands down their arms pooling at the bottom of their forearms. To the park
bathroom they speed walked, still racing. Another tie, once inside, they washed
the sweet dairy from their hands, arms and faces. In the mirrors the boys
looked laughing at one another’s distorted reflections. Chauncey made the
decision to go to the pool before they lost all light. Each of them had a
locker in the pool’s locker room. In each of the boy’s lockers was a pair of
swimming trunks, flip flops and towel. Not quite thirty minutes after eating
ice cream the boys threw caution to the wind and dove in the pool.
“Cannonball!”
They each yelled before splashing down in the cool water. Very skilled
swimmers were each of the boys, good thing because there seemed to be no
lifeguard on duty. Laps back and forth they swam trying to determine a
champion. Still none was had so they launched into a spirited game of Marco
Polo.
“Marco”
“Polo”
The boys’ voices echoed through the pool area as the boys splashed away,
great summer fun. Swim they did until each of them became fatigued. Back into
the locker room they went to change back into their clothes. They dried
themselves, redressed with ball caps on heads and headed for the boardwalk.
The sun had set. When they reached the bright lights of the boardwalk
they headed directly for the arcade. The boys had finally tired of racing, they
just walked along at an excited brisk pace. Once inside they each headed
straight for their favorite video game which just happened to all be side by
side. A ton of “wows” and “awesomes” were said from one friend to another as
they each tried to top the previous high score. Play long and hard they did
until hunger set in on each of them. All of the high scores were eclipsed by
the three gaming masters. Congratulations and praise they gave one another for
their achievements. Exiting the arcade they were taken over by the enticing
aroma of fresh baked pizza. They followed the heavenly scent until they reached
its origin. Again they each pulled a coin from their pockets and placed them on
the counter. A huge slice was served to each boy. Treyvone was served pizza
with extra cheese. Kristopher had pepperoni and Chauncey Sausage. Sodas were
ordered as well Sprite for Treyvone, Dr. Pepper for Kristopher and Coke for
Chauncey. On the benches of picnic tables they sat enjoying their dinner.
Grease they wiped from their tiny chins as they slurped down the last of their
sodas. In the distance they could see the giant Ferris wheel. The boys all let
out cheers then took off running towards it. The colorful wheel was on the
other end of the boardwalk; there was much to distract their little minds
before they got there. Suddenly Kristopher saw a ring toss booth up ahead. They
all stopped to try their luck at the game of chance and skill. There were
prizes to be won and each of the boys had intentions of winning one. Again they
each pulled a coin from their pockets and placed them on the counter. Three
rings were placed in front of them and they each kissed their ring for good
luck. One, two, three, they each tossed their ring onto the peg on the first
try.
“We have three winners!”
The attendant announced over the heads of the boys. The three jumped for
joy in a small huddle before choosing their prizes. There were so many to
choose from. After brief contemplation, they each decided to get some “sports
stuff”. Treyvone dreamt of becoming a pitcher in the Big Leagues so he chose a
baseball and baseball glove.
Kristopher had dreams of becoming an NFL quarterback so he chose a
football. Chauncey fantasized about playing in the NBA so he chose a
basketball. The boys thanked the attendant then ran along in the direction of
the Ferris wheel.
They only got five hundred yards before they were drawn in by another
fun filled distraction.
“Bumper cars!”
The boys yelled in unison. They rushed onto the slippery floor and
jumped in the car of their choice. Treyvone chose red, Kristopher picked blue
and Chauncey jumped in a green car. Around they drove bumping into each other,
chuckling with every collision. As their cars came to a stop the boys heard
explosions from a far. They looked up to see the night sky lit up with
fireworks.
“Wow, this is the greatest night ever!”
Kristopher exclaimed to his two buddies. Little boys’ faces shining from
the random rays and colors of light created by the fireworks. The fireworks
show ended with a grand finale of a choreographed dance of noise and light
created by the explosions followed by smoke in the air. The boys applauded and
whistled their approval of the wonderful display. The Ferris wheel became their
focus again so they headed in that direction.
The boys walked past several buildings and booths on the way to the
Giant Ferris wheel in the sky. As they passed one particularly dark building a
voice called out to them.
“Treyvone, come here. I’ve got something for you.”
Treyvone seemed to know the voice so the boys stood and waited for him
to come back from where the voice called him to. Then they heard another voice
from across the street.
“Kristopher, let me show you something over here.”
Off went Kristopher to see what the voice wanted to show him. Lastly
Chauncey heard a voice behind him. He dared not turn around.
“Chauncey let’s go over here.”
A strong hand nudged him into the shadows. Seconds later, blood curdling
screams echo throughout the boardwalk, pool, park and field. Harm was being
done to the boys. Screams, more screams, screams!
Just then Sarah Reynolds shakes her husband from his reoccurring
nightmare. Dennis wakes in a cold sweat; shaken from the horrors he had just
witnessed subconsciously.
“Dennis, are you alright Honey?”
Dennis wiped his brow trying to gather himself and make sense of why he
was tortured nightly by such heinous acts.
“Yes Sarah, I’m ok. I just can’t shake it that’s all. It still haunts
me, knowing and then knowing that nothing is being done about it. How does that
happen?”
Dennis’ loving wife let out a sigh before responding. She was growing
tired of reliving what happened to those poor little Black Boys in which she
considered the ghetto of Pine Hills but there was nothing they could do about
it.
“Dennis, Honey I am so sorry that you’re having these awful dreams but
we need to get past this. It’s tragic and unbelievable that such acts could go
unpunished but we’re not law enforcement officers we’re educators. You
obsessing over it won’t solve anything.”
Dennis sat up in bed now perturbed with his insensitive wife.
“That’s exactly the problem Sarah; it doesn’t have to be solved everyone
knows who committed all three crimes. How young lives are taken and nothing is
done about it is beyond me. I know that you don’t deal with much outside of the
curriculum in your upper middle class school but where I choose to teach you
have to do a little more than that. Sometimes unfortunately I’m all these
children have in the form of a positive role model or parental figure at all.
We do the same job in theory but I go through a little more so I guess you just
wouldn’t understand.”
With that being said Dennis got out of bed and walked into the bathroom
to wash his face and neck. His pajamas were soaked so he thought it necessary
to take a shower. He needed some space to think anyway. Dennis could hear his
wife’s voice outside the bathroom door but couldn’t make out what she was
saying. From her tone it sounded somewhat apologetic but he was in no mood to
listen to it. Exiting the bathroom thirty minutes later Dennis could see that
Sarah had decided to go back to sleep so he headed downstairs for a glass of
Merlot. Inflicted by Insomnia in his late teens and early twenties he spent
many a night struggling to sleep. The events of this school year had caused his
old ailment to return. Walking barefoot across the cool tiles of his large
kitchen Dennis thought of ways to bring the worst of criminals to justice. He
stopped at the sliding glass door and looked out onto his large backyard.
Upward he looked out at the large, safe gated community he was blessed to live
in. His life was one of privilege and luxury. Born with a silver spoon in his
mouth Dennis Reynolds decided to do more with his life. He was dedicated to
helping the under privileged and easily forgotten. The rewards were few yet
powerful; the young lives he’d touched over his eleven years teaching in the
rough and tumble community of Pine Hills were worth the sacrifice for Dennis. A
great disappointment to his father he was, but the old man still loved him. A
tree hugging, save the world, bleeding heart liberal he was always called by
his father Frank. But Frank had a soft spot for his only son and secretly
admired what he chose to do with his life. Two Tylenol PM pills were popped and
another glass of Merlot was swallowed in an effort to induce slumber. By four
in the morning he was back in bed only to be awakened at six by the same
nightmare. The nightmare was like an alarm clock waking him up just in time to
return to the battlefield labeled a classroom. Sarah was more sympathetic this
time around.
“Hey are you ok Dennis.”
Dennis, still startled blurted out what she thought was nonsense.
“Why can’t they ever make it to the Ferris wheel?!”
“Dennis, what are you talking about?”
“The boys, they never make it to the Ferris wheel! They never make it.
Babe, they never make it.”
Sarah hugged her husband’s head gently in her bosoms in an effort to
comfort him. Her words were soft, careful.
“Dennis you know you’ve been having this nightmare for quite some time
now, maybe it’s time to talk to someone about it. I wish that I could help you
with this but I don’t know exactly what to do. I love you Honey and I want you
to be well, understand?”
Sarah expected some resistance to the idea of Dennis seeing a therapist
but she didn’t get any. Dennis readily agreed. He just wanted the pain to stop.
“Maybe you’re right honey. Maybe I need to see a professional; this
stuff is tearing me apart.”
Dennis hugged his wife tighter, stood and kissed her on the forehead.
“Sweetie, thank you so much for putting up with me. I’m lucky to have
such an understanding wife, I love you Sarah.”
He leaned down and gave her a dry peck on the lips. She collected it, no
spark little passion. Dennis decided to see his childhood psychiatrist. He
hadn’t seen him in years but at least they had a history. Being from a well to
do family he, like everyone else in his family had his own mental health care
professional. Dr. Paul Depot wasn’t only Dennis’ therapist, he was also a close
friend to his father Frank. As Dennis grew out of adolescence into early
adulthood he decided that his Doctor’s close relationship with his father gave
him a conflict of interest. Dr. Depot, a man of great integrity, respectful of
and responsible with his vocation, would never break doctor/ patient confidentiality.
A young Dennis couldn’t get over his own paranoia and insecurities in his
relationship with his sometimes overbearing father so he terminated his
treatment. Now a grown man he knew that Dr Depot would be his best option for
help in dealing with this painful period in his life.
The beginning of the first session was like two old friends being
reunited. Their hand shake led into an embrace.
“Dennis it’s so good to see you. What’s it been thirteen years or so?”
“Yea, something like that, so how have you been Doc?”
“I’ve been well, things are good, please take a seat. Your father tells
me that you’ve been teaching in Pine Hills for the past eleven years. Initially
that must have been quite a culture shock. Pine Hills is a far cry from your
Bay Hill roots. I commend you for choosing such a noble profession. I know you
must have your share of challenges.”
Dennis spoke freely, quickly.
“Honestly Doc it can sometimes be a little overwhelming. That is why I’m
here today. I have knowledge of horrible crimes committed against children. The
worse part of it is the perpetrators have gone unpunished. It tears at me
everyday Doc and I have the most awful nightmares. Knowing who committed these
crimes and not being able to bring them to justice makes it a hundred times
worse…”
Dennis led into a horrible tale about young lives lost to disguised
predators. Predators disguised as parents, mentors, new friends and extended
family. Young trust gained for no purpose other than to get close enough to
hurt. Children, so trusting and naïve; to the predator their greenness is like
fertile ground in which to dibble holes to plant seeds of pain and destruction.
Dennis finished his first session with Dr. Depot no less tormented but
with a new resolve. The perpetrators, he knew who they were, where they lived
and worse of all he knew they’d offend again when given the opportunity. Two
more sessions were had with Dr. Depot before Dennis proclaimed himself cured to
the doctor. His nightmares ceased but thoughts of the crimes were always in the
forefront of his consciousness. His new resolve gave him peace in his slumber.
Dreams were now of avenging the boys and punishing the wrong doers. Every night
as Dennis slept a plan was beginning to take shape in his mind. The boys would
be avenged and attention would be brought to this horrible situation. Dennis
would be that voice for the poor and forgotten. The undesirables that society
can accept being abused or even murdered. In these dreams a champion for them
all was born. Mr. Reynolds’ feelings of powerlessness had escaped him infusing
him with strength and courage. Unfortunately rational planning gave way to thoughts
of retribution, rage and revenge, none the less, justice would be had!
Joe Robinson was a forty-two year old unemployed man whose only
contribution to society was the labor he gave in prison while serving a five
year sentence for his participation in an armed robbery. Joe struck a deal and
testified for the State of Florida against his co-defendants. When released he
moved in with his loving mother, Mary, who always thought her son’s problems to
be the product of other’s behaviors and actions. She was wrong. Her son Joe was
the foul man the rest of the world knew him to be. Mary was not only saddled by
a needy son but also her grandson Treyvone. Treyvone was a bright, energetic
little boy who dreamt of becoming a professional singer or baseball player.
He was the light of his grandmother’s life. Her daughter, Tangy fell in
love with several illegal substances several years earlier. Her commitment to
her vice was so great that she could no longer care for her only child. Three
year old Treyvone was relieved to be living in a warm home with plenty of food
and love. For three years his childhood was what fairy tales are made of… until
Uncle Joe came home.
Mary was happy to have a babysitter and male role model for her
grandson. It would also give Uncle Joe something to do to make himself feel
useful and help him to have a smooth transition back into society. Unknown to
Mary were the horrors her son experienced while incarcerated. Even in a medium
security prison the weak are sought out and sodomized. Joe was a mama’s boy;
the only thing he ever got off his mama’s couch to do landed him in prison. The
first time wheelman got nervous and, deviated from the escape route. Joe’s
wrong left and right turns landed them at an interception surrounded by police
responding to the first call. When interrogated Joe’s partners and buddies
since high school, Trevor and Jake, kept their mouths shut. Joe sang like a
canary the moment he was asked anything. When he finally got an attorney all he
had left to bargain with was Joe’s testimony against the others. Five years was
what his testimony was worth. Jake and Trevor knew many people serving time in
the state of Florida so getting a kite to some buddies in Joe’s prison wasn’t
hard at all. He was raped daily and traded for prison currency. Now home, the
prey turned predator preyed on his own blood first with verbal abuse, later
fondling and eventually full on oral and anal penetration. Treyvone had already
dealt with the violation of his body and soul in his early life with his mother
at the hands of her junkie boyfriends. The young boy thought that he had
escaped that abuse forever only to see it return in the form of family. Mary a
good, hardworking Christian had one major flaw; she was blind. Blind to
anything her two children ever did. Mary found liquor in her daughter’s room,
her friends were to blame. Her son’s slothfulness was always someone else’s
fault; his friends were all holding him down. The sign’s of abuse her grandson
showed were overlooked as well. One night Joe, especially high and drunk, got
impatient. He couldn’t wait until his mother was gone; he had to have it that
night. Screams were heard by Mary and she rushed in to her grandson’s bedroom
to witness the most horrible act she had ever seen in her life. Mary’s screams
matched her grandson’s.
“Joe, what are you doing?!? Get off that boy! Lord Jesus help me.”
“Ma it ain’t what you think, we was just playing.”
Joe stood pulling up his pants and brushed by his mother as she rushed
to comfort her grandson. Joe stood listening around the corner as his mother
told her grandson how they were going to the police in the morning and he would
never have to see Uncle Joe again. Joe stormed out of the house; mind racing.
He popped his last two pills and licked the last of the resin from an empty bag
that once held cocaine. Joe hung out with the bums around the convenience store
panhandling and bumming cigarettes while thinking of a way out of his
situation. Finally some crack was scored and shared. Joe’s mania went to the
extreme, his shallow thoughts turned evil.
As the clock struck four Joe found himself, with a gas can dousing the
foundation of his mother’s old wooden house. The neighborhood was quiet and the
air crisp as the flame was ignited. Within minutes three homes were ablaze on
Pine Street; residents fled into the streets to escape certain death. Joe’s
poor mother and nephew Treyvone weren’t as fortunate. They were both
asphyxiated as black smoke filled their bedrooms then the lungs of its sleeping
victims. Their bodies were charred beyond recognition when they were finally
discovered. Slow to respond to the poor neighborhood was the fire department
giving the fire time to consume half the block. Due to lack of evidence the
arson went unsolved.
Uncle Joe was a person of interest but the case wasn’t pursued
vigorously. The police and fire fighters are to serve and protect; at what
level they serve and protect often times depends on the class of the citizen.
The wealthy get the best justice money can buy while the less fortunate receive
less justice. Oh the perils of the peoples of Pine Hills. It was known in the
community who was at fault but it was never told. Never told to the right ears
or just never listen to when told. Dennis listened, he always did. He felt it
time that his listening turned to action and he knew just what action he would
take against good old Uncle Joe.
Dennis spent seasons in his youth sitting in a tree stand patiently
waiting for that perfect buck. A good shot he was, taught by his father Frank.
That was their bonding time. As Dennis grew into adulthood his blood lust was
lost. No longer was he a hunter, seeding the fields during the off season, but
he was still a great shot.
Joe lived in a rundown motel paying rent weekly with proceeds from petty
crimes he committed throughout the week. Outside he stood smoking a butt he
found on the ground. It was an hour past dusk and there wasn’t much stirring
going on. Dennis sat high on his perch several hundred yards away. Joe was in
his sights. Dennis held no nervous or anxious feeling in his heart as he slowly
squeezed the trigger. The shot was loud but common sounding as if were merely a
pallet falling over at one of the near by factories. Joe dropped instantly and
Dennis was pleased. The entry wound was small but the exit wound was almost the
size of a softball. As Dennis quickly, quietly packed up his gear and removed
all evidence something came over him. He could see Joe twitching and thriving
yet no one had come to his rescue. Dennis put his equipment away and rushed on
the scene looking the part of the hero. As Dennis kneeled down next to his
victim; the junky tenets slowly filed out of their units. He spoke quietly into
Joe’s ear as he took his last breaths.
“I know what you did Joe, I know what you did. You like raping little
boys and burning people up. Well you’ll meet allot more assholes like yourself
when you get to hell.”
Dennis giggled and Joe gasped. Dennis looked up at the junkies gathering
around him and shouted orders.
“You, get me some towels, you, call 911. Somebody get the manager!”
People scattered in all directions at Dennis’ behest. Joe was now
bleeding from his mouth and eventually his head slumped over. It was done and
Dennis quietly made his way to his vehicle and drove home. That night Dennis
made love to his wife for the first time in three months. He also slept like a
baby, no nightmares. Avenging was relieving to Dennis; the night’s events
convinced him that his mission must be completed.
Category:Web-Published
Category:Storystar
Category:Rascoe