The Tragedy of Joshua Johnson
I laid in bed last night unable to sleep. I tossed and turned, for hours, trying to focus on falling asleep. My eyes closed and breathing slowly and deeply. Still, sleep never came. As I laid there, wrestling with the wake demon, searching endlessly for the sandman, I was frustrated with my inability to pass into the dreamland.
After four long hours I sat up in my bed, thinking about my son. Sad for what I had done, for what I had to do; for all that had happened. It was all just a blur now but still it resonated sharply enough to have an effect on me. The memories were still fresh enough to haunt me.
It was 1976, I was 21 years old, fresh out of college and I had just returned home to the family farm, bright-eyed and ready to take on the world. I knew I was gonna take this run down old farm of ours and turn things around; make a big success of things. I wanted to grow this farm into one of those mega-farms with all the fancy equipment. I’d get big new tractors, new cilos; new everything brand new and bigger and better; modern and fancy. Just imagine. Me, Louis Johnson, with a giant high-tech farm in this little town.
It was a shame my father wasn’t around to celebrate my graduation. He died about a year before. I knew he would have been so proud of me. Mama made sure I knew and understood that. She made up a lot for his absence when I came home. She met me with the biggest party I ever had. All the neighbors were there. I could have sworn she had invited the whole town. When I asked her about it she just grinned, looked away and said, “No, son. I can’t afford to feed the whole town.” Then she laughed a big bright laugh.
Still I was so happy. It was the greatest party I had ever had. Still, that level of happiness doesn’t last too long. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy to be home, back in the town where I grew up. Happy to see my Mama again, but the state of the farm, since my dad passed away, has gotten so bad. My mama tries to take care of things and she does the best she can, but there are just some things she can’t do. So I have to help out, and I’m glad to do it. I’ve mostly been working the fields and doing what I could. She often had to hire temporary farm hands to help with the major work, which became more and more often, and she was getting older. So Jorge and Rodrigo, come by about twice a week to take care of some of the heavy lifting and moving things around. They really like harvest time because they get more steady work from mama and the pay is a little better too after she finishes the market sales. Although, It still wasn’t quite enough. The money she’d saved was running out. I knew I had to do something.
So I got a job. It wasn’t the best job in the world but in a town like this, you don’t have too many options. The job I found was very simple. I took a position down at the feed store. It consisted of tossing hay, and packing sacks of feed and whatever other grunt work that old man Wilson was getting too old to do. It was ok, I was able to help out with expenses on the farm and sometimes I had a little money left over for myself. I was even able to earn just enough to keep Jorge and Rodrigo coming around to help out. The perk of the job was that Mr. Wilson gave me a good discount on feed and seed when I needed to buy some.
Well, that was my home coming, and everything was fine, until the night we found him. Mama and I had just finished up dinner. She was cleaning the kitchen and I was sitting in my Daddy’s old chair watching a little TV before bed. Then I heard a noise out on the front porch. Mama heard it too. We both went to take a look. I urged Mama to stay behind, and I would check it out. She insisted on coming along since it was still her house.
She said, “I can check my own door, thank you very much.”
So to check the door, the both of us went. I looked through the peephole, while mama peered out the window next to the door. Neither of us saw anything. “Must have been a coon or some other animal, but it’s gone now,” I surmised. Ready to call it a fluke, we looked at each other, and then started to go back to what we were doing. Then we heard what sounded like a baby crying.
Quickly, I opened the door to find a baby in a basket. I was completely shocked to see such a thing. It was a little baby boy. I thought this kind of thing only happened in stories. I scooped up the little bundle, basket and all. I brought him into the house and set him on the kitchen table. Mama and I stared at him for what had to be an hour.
“What the hell are we gonna do with him?” Mama asked.
“Well, I suppose the first thing is to figure out how to feed him.” I answered.
“Well we have to do something, Mama,” I answered.
“We have to call the authorities,” said Mama, “That's what we have to do.”
“Okay, Mama, you’re right. We’ll make sure we get him fed, and then we'll make that call in the morning.” I replied.
We fed him and then got him cleaned up, and put him in a safe place to sleep. We both went to bed that night, both dumbfounded and excited. A new little life in the house, and of course, as you may have guessed, it was not a quiet night.
The next morning I woke up to find that the baby was gone. I was alarmed at first, but then I heard Mama talking to him, in that silly baby talk voice mothers always use. I went downstairs to find Mama playing with the baby.
“Hey, Mama.” I interrupted.
“You’re up, Honey?” she asked, flashing that big bright grin.
“Did you call them?” I asked.
Mama looked at me with sad but informing eyes, “Yeah, I did.”
I could see she was sad about seeing the little tyke go but she was right. It’s the right thing to do. She fell silent for a moment. She seemed to regret having made that call, but then after a minute or two, she snapped out of it. Then she put the baby down and said, “They should be here soon. We’d better get ready.”
“You okay, Mama?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just that it’s been quite a few years since there was baby in this house, and well, that’s got me missin’ your dad,” she explained.
We both stood there for a moment, just looking at him, as he lay there completely oblivious to what’s going on.
A lady from Child Protective Services came by to interview us. We met her at the door. As she was walking up the steps to the porch she immediately introduced herself. Mrs. Roina Green was her name.
“Glad to meet you, Mrs. Green. Won’t you come in?” Mama greeted her.
I offered Mrs. Green some coffee and a place to sit. She passed on the coffee.
“So, I understand, by the information given to me, you reported that the child was left on your doorstep. Is that correct?”
We explained what happened and how the baby just showed up on our doorstep. She was skeptical at first, thinking we might have kidnapped the baby.
“So I’m not sure I understand what you’re telling me.” she said.
“What’s not to understand?” I asked.
“You’re telling me that someone just put their baby on your doorstep and disappeared without saying a word.”
From the start, she got on my nerves, sittin’ there all prim and proper, and looking down her nose at me because her glasses hung that low; and probably on purpose because she’d get to look at people that way. I was taken aback by her making accusations at me and Mama about where this child came from. She had some nerve.
Anyway, we quickly dispelled that thought. I mean, who would kidnap a baby just to turn it over to C.P.S.?
“Do we look like kidnappers to you? Have there been any reports of a missing baby?”
“Okay, I believe you.” she relented. “Okay, we will have to do some paperwork and then get a list of potential fosters to receive the baby.”
I was absolutely floored by her suggestion. I thought maybe she’d make a file and then leave him with us. Wishful thinking I guess. Honestly I didn’t know the first thing about raising children, but I had Mama, we could work as a team while I learn.
I have to admit, I had grown attached to the little bugger in that short time. I hounded the lady about the kid. I was curious as to whether they had found the mother, or any of his family. She told me that they hadn’t found anyone yet. The trail was so cold that the mother couldn’t be found, I guess. There had been no new births reported by the hospital around the time the kid was presumed to have been born. She also told me that if Mama and I wanted to take him in as his fosters, we could. I was so excited to hear that and I immediately agreed. I had forgotten to ask Mama about it, but judging from the look on her face the other morning when he was here, I was sure everything would be fine.
“Okay, shall we get the paperwork started?” asked the case worker.
So when they brought the little monkey back home, Mama was kinda upset that I hadn’t talked to her about it but when she finally looked that little wiggler in the face, she melted right there on the spot. I knew she had grown to like him too, just as fast as I did. We named him Joshua.
About four months passed and things were great. Joshua had grown so much. We had so much joy taking care of him, playing with him, watching him grow. Based on what they told us about his examination they estimated he was about three months old when we found him, so by now he would have been about seven months old. I proclaimed myself in the position of fatherhood, over the boy. As much as I enjoyed him as an infant, I couldn’t wait until he was old enough so I could take him fishing, exploring, and hunting; teach him how to farm and all that. You know, father-son stuff. We had a blast taking care of him and playing with him, loving him. Only, there was one thing that concerned us. One night, he was not himself. He became feverish, constantly crying, and throwing god awful fits. It just wasn’t like him. At first Mama thought it was collock. He didn’t eat for most of the day. Then all of a sudden, about four hours into his fit, he finally ate something. I would say at this point things were normal, But I will have you know that I was completely wrong about that. Now, his hunger was insatiable. I just couldn’t understand it for the life of me.
This little fart ate and ate and ate. We became very concerned about feeding him too much so we stopped and his fits and crying became unbearable. So we gave him a little bit more. Not too much but just a couple of spoonfuls more. He was quiet while his mouth was busy.
“He doesn’t need any more to eat, Bubba!” Mama scolded me for feeding so much.
“Well heck, Mama? It’s the only thing keeping him quiet.” I replied.
“He doesn’t know any better. He just needs his stomach to settle,” said Mama.
Then when he was done with that bit, up started the squalling and, Oh my God, the screaming was horrific. I was so loud, my ears began to ring like some alarm was going off in a tiny room. So I gave just a little bit more. A couple more spoonfuls, half loaded this time. I was sure this couldn’t be good for him. Still, like a champ, he powered down everything we shoved in his face.
“Man, look you go, little man,” I exclaimed. Forgetting about the sheer volume of it all, I sort of found myself cheering him on.
Then he puked. Projectile style as luck would have it. It got everywhere. Shot across the room like a little spew cannon.
“You get to clean that up,” Mama laughed.
I guess I knew I shouldn’t have given him any more but the crying would not stop. My head couldn’t take it anymore. At least now he was quiet. I stood there looking at the mess I had to clean up, but I didn’t care. That little monster was quiet and I was happy about that. He looked happy too. Hell he was so happy he went right to sleep.
There was sweet silence then. I was so appreciative. I didn’t even mind having to clean up the mess. I whistled my way through it.
A year had gone by and things were just dandy with Joshua. He was growing and learning. Every once and a while, he would have another one of his fits. In total, he had about three of those fits in the last year. However it’d gotten to where it doesn’t really bother me much anymore. I’d come to understand what to expect. It just scared me a little bit about those bouts of hunger he gets. Still most days are absolutely blissful. He was so smart, so energetic and a very good little boy.
Mama passed away a few weeks after Joshua turned 5 years old. Josh and I were devastated, but we pressed on. It was just him and me now. I was about 27 years old by then. I had adopted Joshua by then but I was starting to long for companionship. So every other week or so, I would put my little Joshua in the care of a trusted neighbor and head to the local bar in hope of meeting someone. I didn’t have a whole lot of luck in that area. The women in these parts are far and few between, so to speak. Some were not attractive, some were not as sophisticated and I would prefer, and most were just not interested in me.
By the time Joshua was ten, I found someone. Her name was Corina Kimble. We became very close rather quickly. It just clicked, I guess. Joshua liked her too, he couldn’t stay out of her sight very long. Things got kinda serious between me and Corina rather quickly. I moved her in after about six months of dating. We immediately became a happy family. However it took some getting used to, when Corina first encountered one of Joshua’s fits. At first she was a bit concerned, but, after a couple of them, she was an old pro getting through it. That was a huge relief for me, since Joshua’s fits became more frequent. Not by much, but a little more frequent. Instead of two or three times in a year it was more like five or six.
One night, though, things got a little hairy. Joshua started having one of his fits. This one was different. On this night, I noticed the moon was full. I’m not sure if there was a full moon every time, but I know that on this night, the moon was full. It was eerie and disorienting. Joshua was worse than ever. Not only did he have a fever, was irritable, and was the return of that insatiable hunger. He was really hard to handle. On two occasions, he bit both me and Corina whenever we tried to calm him. We had trouble keeping him in bed. He had developed a really filthy mouth. I didn’t pay it too much attention, it wasn’t something he did any other time. I was sure it was just the fit.
Oddly enough, it lasted longer than usual. They lasted longer than a few hours before. This one lasted nearly until dawn. Corina wanted me to take him to see a doctor. I explained to her that he had seen several doctors, and none of them could explain why these fits happened. They said that he was physically fine. She countered by suggesting a psychiatrist. I was livid that she could even suggest such a thing.
“I am not taking my son to see a shrink like some little pansy kid that finds it hard to cope with life!” I shouted.
“To ignore something like is just the same as child abuse.” Corina responded.
Although, I love my Joshua, and I love Corina, and it was that love that I had for the both of them, that allowed me to at least consider taking my son to see a shrink. So that’s what I did. I found a very reputable child psychologist in the next town. It was about an hour’s drive away.
After a few sessions, I was able to meet with the doctor, and she gave me a pretty good understanding of what Josua was going through. After about ten minutes of psychobabel I didn’t understand but the overall prognosis was that there was nothing really wrong with him.
“A little bit of acting out,” she said, “but other than that, no real serious disorders or anything.”
She basically told me that I had to be that strict parent whenever his fits arose.
You couldn’t imagine the relief I felt when she told me that, but I was still a little on the fence about strict parenting. It wasn’t really my style, since it wasn’t the way my father raised me. Still, I felt more like I was in control. I guess it was more her straightening me out, instead of straightening him out.
I kept taking him to see her. I would have to admit that it was really good for him. His fits were far and few between. When he did have them, they were milder and more manageable. The doc’s sessions apparently consisted of behavioral modification exercises and stuff. Whatever she was doing, I was surely grateful.
I married Corina about a year later. Now my son truly has a mom. At that point we were a true family. Joshua was ecstatic about it even though he was already calling her Mom, and she often introduced him as her son. They apparently had worked a deal between them to do such a thing. I guess they wanted to make me happy about a thing like that, and I was. Truth be told I was just happy that they got along and clicked. Unlike other step-parents and their step-children. Now, however, it was all official. Things were going great from that point on. Life was good.
Three days leading up to Joshua’s 13th birthday, we had to take him to the emergency room. You see, he had another fit. I know I said that his fits had become far and few between but he still had them from time to time. For this fit, there was no exercise to help him. It was really bad. So much so that he had bitten a hole clean through his bottom lip. There was blood everywhere.
At the emergency room, Corina and I had to answer a lot of questions as to how he got that hole in his lip.
“Oftentimes, when a child comes in with this type of injury it’s the child who has been struck by someone or something.” the nurse explained.
I was furious that they could have back-handedly accused me or my wife of striking our precious child. “Lady, I need you and your doctors to take care of my baby boy and stop all these accusations you’re making.” was that I was thinking. Instead I kept my cool and answered all of their questions, because I knew the truth and truth can’t be faulted. They still wanted to keep him for observations, because of the fever he was spiking, it was quite high. Reluctantly, Corina and I agreed. We also provided them with the contact information to the Psychiatrist that Joshy was seeing, just so they could understand that this rather routine with us.
“Mr. Johnson, we understand this could be routine for you, but we also want to make sure that his fever is not due to some kind of infection. It’s great that you’re getting him help emotionally but please let us give him the physical and medical help he may need.” explained the Doctor.
“OKay,” I said begrudgingly. I reckon that was all I could do. I’m sure they would have had my son taken away if I refused anyway. So there you go.
The next morning we got Joshy home. He had a lip full of stitches but other than that he was fine. The doctors had given him a clean bill of health. They couldn’t find anything physically wrong with him. Even a cat scan didn’t show anything wrong with him.
From there we went on with life as usual. Joshua’s birthday came and went, we were happy as clams.
On his 17th birthday, Corina and I got him a car. A 64 Chevelle. It wasn’t much but it was a good way for him to get around, meet and do things with friends even though he didn’t have many. I was so proud that he was so happy. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for my boy. For a few weeks, things were fine. Joshua always let us know when he was going out, and where he was going. So responsible. Just another reason to be proud of my son.
Then things began to change a bit. He did meet some new friends. They weren’t what I would call good people. They were necessarily bad, I don’t think I could say. Hell, I never seen them do anything wrong, but, you know when you don’t trust someone, you don’t trust them. Corina said I should give them some slack or whatever. Something about different generations and what not. I don’t know, this is something kinda new to me.
One Joshua came home late. I had to admit, I was quite upset. I met him at the door. He was drunk, stumbling all over the place, slamming into everything in the room. To tell I was unhappy would be an understatement. I was more disappointed than anything, though. I could really get that mad at him. I remember when I was his age. I got him straightened up a bit and put him to be. “Well talk in the morning.”
That next morning, I heard him stumbling down the stairs. He was hungover and I’m sure head was pounding something serious. I had a bit of a mind to wrap on the table and rattle his brain a little bit, but I thought that would be cruel. So I invited him to sit down and have some of the breakfast his mother made for him. “You need to feed that pain, but first drink some water. You’ll feel better once you get hydrated.”
I let have a few bites of the wonderful breakfast his mom laid out for him before I began the conversation.
“Okay, let’s talk about last night, son.”
“It’s no big deal.” he said like it was no big deal.
“You don’t understand, son. I want to talk about your recent behavior. Not just last night,” I said to him.
“I don’t wanna talk about it because you always get bent outta shape, whenever we have these little conversations about me and my friends.” he scoffed.
I wasn’t appreciative of his attitude. This was not like him at all. We argued a bit, then he got up from the table and stormed outside. I jumped into his car and sped off. By then I was furious. I started after him, but Corina stopped me.
“Maybe he’s having another fit, just differently,” she suggested.
“Nah, he’s just being a little shit, er-teenager.” I answered.
“Either way, maybe try a little understanding.” Corina said.
I took her advice and let it go for the moment. When Joshua got back home, he was calmer, and he actually got home on time and sober. So, when he came into the house, I looked at him as he looked at me. I just nodded him on to go to his room without questions, or fights. Maybe something I said actually sank in when he had time to think about it.
So, there were a few more days or nights like that however. I wasn’t that cured of being a rebellious teen. Corina and I had to deal with it as it came. We got through it just like we did when he was a little one. We just had to make sure he was safe, but one night, He came home and there was blood on his clothes, little spots here and there. I asked him about it, but he wouldn’t budge on where it came from. I had become so secretive in those days.
On his eighteenth birthday, he went out again with his friends, despite the fact that his mom and I had a great little birthday celebration planned for him. Corina made him a big beautiful cake, and I had a nice gift for him. Before we could start the festivities, he was out the door. Gone to celebrate with his friends. We were quite heartbroken that day.
Just as I suspected, He came home drunk again, but something was different. He was different. He wreaked alcohol but he didn’t stagger or stumble. Instead, when he came into the house, He walked past his mom and me, like nothing. Like we were nothing.
“Okay that’s it!” I shouted.
He turned and looked at me, inviting me to do something, but at the same time, warning me to stay away. His breath was elevated, I could tell his fever spiked. I could feel the heat radiating off of him from where I was standing.
“Son, you okay?” I asked as my anger quickly turned to concern.
“I’m fine, just tired.” he answered.
“Tired from what? Slipping on your mother and me when we had a nice birthday planned for you.” I reminded him.
“So it’s the guilt trip, now, huh dad?”
“No, no guilt trip. Just an expectation that maybe you would realize how you hurt your mother and me tonight.”
“Sounds like a guilt trip to me.”>>>
That night we fought and argued back and forth. It went until the sun came up. Everything that I was feeling about his behavior in recent days came out. Corina tried to calm us both down but we didn’t relent. We continued until the shoving started. That’s when Corina jumped in between us. Neither of us wanted to hurt her. We really didn’t want to hurt each other, we let our emotions get the better of us.
After a few minutes of angry heavy breathing, Joshua went to bed, and I wasn’t too far behind him. It wasn’t like us to be at each other’s throats like that but I didn’t understand what happened to my son. I couldn’t make heads or tales of it. It was like living with a stranger.
The next few weeks were about the same, no worse, no better. We had our spats and this and that, mostly about his friends, and the late nights. He didn’t always come home drunk, but sometimes he just came home angry or agitated. He never wanted to talk about it.
One evening, I had just finished my work in the fields. It had been a long day. A few pieces of equipment were in need of repair and some parts were needed but not wouldn’t be available for about a week. I was sitting out of the front porch just catching my breath. Then I heard the police sirens whirring from the road. I was a gang of them, one after another. They were in a big hurry somewhere, I wasn’t sure. The first thing that popped into my head was Joshua. I became very worried. I hadn’t seen him all day, and I didn’t know where he’d gone. Corina stepped out when she heard the noise.
“Was that the police?” she asked, worriedly.
“Don’t know. Hope not.” I leaned forward in my chair wrenching my hands. Corina came and sat down beside me. I took her hand and held it tight. “I’m sure he’s ok.”
About an hour went by and we heard nothing, and we hadn’t heard from our boy joe yet, but we tried to stay calm. Then headlights appeared in the drive. It was Joe Ferguson from the next farm over, coming over his old pickup. I pulled up to the house, and jumped out of his truck.
“Just stopped by to chit chat a bit. D’ya hear what happened?”
“Hear what?” Corina asked.
“They found a body over at Shertz Lake.” he replied.
“Can’t say,” he responded, “Unrecognizable, they say. Body was torn to shreds, like an animal attack.”
I was ready to buy into it. “There’s nothing around that could do anything like that to a person. “You sure you hear right, Joe? Nothing like that around here.”
“There used to be wild cats around here years and years ago. Until they all got hunted out.” Joe said.
“Yeah, maybe they weren’t all gone,” I thought outloud.
Joe came back with, “Yeah, maybe.”
We talked more for a couple of hours. The sun had gone down, and it was as dark as pitch. The only was coming from the lamp I had sitting on the table beside me. Then Joshua arrived, agitated as usual. The conversation instantly fell quiet as we watched get out of his car.
“What’s everybody looking at?” Joshua asked.
“Hey, Joshua, haya doin?”
“Fine.” Josh answered, annoyed. Then he just walked by everybody and went inside the house. I was going to say something about his rudeness to Joe, but Corina stopped me.
“Let him go. Just be glad he’s home and he’s okay.”
Joe was kind of confused about her comment so we explained to him what had been going on with Josh this past few months, and then about how we feared the worst when we heard the sirens. Joe was pretty understanding about it all.
“I’m not offended. Hell, he’s just a kid.” said Joe.
Joe hung around another hour or so, before he took off. Corina and I stayed out there a few minutes more than decided to go to bed. As we laid in bed we could hear through the walls, the conversation Jushua was having with one of his friends on the phone. I couldn’t really make out exactly what he was saying. I could only catch a few things, and they didn’t sound right to me.
“What if they find out?” his voice murmured and reverberated through the wall.
The next morning I tried to talk to him again about it. He was closed up as usual. Only this time without all the animosity. He was calm and actually quite polite. Still, so full of secrecy. I backed off saying, “okay, buddy. I get it, you’re eighteen now.” He looked up at me almost as if he knew what I was going to say next. I continued, “You’ve got your own life now, and that means you're a man now. So it’s time to be a man, get a job, and get your own place.”
It’s funny how when you challenge your semi-grown jobless kids with independence, they instantly turn into the most polite, apologetic, self repentant little angels. Of course, like the spineless jellyfish of dad I was, I relented and allowed him to stay. Back up to his room he went. In a way I was kind of relieved. Corine looked at me with a big cheshire cat type smile.
“You weren’t going to kick him out anyway.” she scoffed.
“I guess not. I don’t know. I’m just glad it didn’t have to come to that.” I answered as she stroked my face. “Hopefully that little standoff might straighten him out.”
Things were fine for the next few months. He still went out with his friends, but not as often and not really any late nights. He seemed to fall back in line and respect my house rules. I was okay with that.
Joshua’s 19th birthday was coming up. Corina and I were planning something again for Josh but this time we made sure to tell him that we had plans. Didn’t want to have any repeats of the last birthday.
Then three days before the day, we found a note he’d left for us.
I’m sorry to do this to you but Jake and Darrell invited me to go on a road trip for my birthday. I know you had special plans for me and I hate to miss it but they promised to take me to see some sights in the city. I want to celebrate my birthday with you too but I don’t want to miss out on seeing the city. I should be back the day after. Maybe we can celebrate then. I know it’s not the same but I figure a late celebration is better than none at all. Don’t you? I love you.
Again I was disappointed, and Corina was devastated. Again. He was turning 19. Nothing really I could do. I consoled my wife that night and we made the best of it. The big day came and went, and we heard nothing from our boy the whole time.
The next he made it home like he promised. And we celebrated his birthday a day late. Though sadly, Corina’s heart just wasn’t in it that day. She just sort of went through the motions. She tried to smile but as she explained to me later on, it was hard to do because it just wasn’t the same if it was on the day. I could say I blamed her, but think she did a pretty good job getting through it all.
A few days later, Corina was picking up the dirty clothes in Joshua’s room for the laundry and she noticed a few pieces had blood on them. She told me about it and she wanted me to talk to him. She was worried. There had been a couple more strange murders in the area, since the last time. A few people have gone missing. I can’t lie and say that I wasn’t nervous about the conversation I needed to have. The last time it didn’t go so well. We had finally got peace in our house. Most of all, I hated to think that there was any possibility that my son could have anything to do with the strange occurrences.
He was working now, so I waited for him to get home from work. I needed to know everything was fine with him. When he came home, he was agitated and wired. His breathing was heavy, and he was feverish again. I thought, “Oh, you’re having one of your fits.”
“It’s not a fit, old man!” he shouted back at me.
“Yup.” I replied. “Go on, get up to your room and try to stay calm.”
As he trapsed up the stairs, I called out, “You hungry?”
“Fuck you!” he snapped. Then I heard his door slam.
“Yup, it’s a fit.” I thought to myself as I took a breath trying to let that filthy response wash over me. It was just him reacting to his fit. I knew that this was not the time to try to have a conversation with him.
Corina appeared at the top of the stairs, looking at me for confirmation that I had talked to him but I had to explain that it was no use when he’s having his fit. I promised her I would talk to him in the morning. We both went to bed.
During the night we heard Josh writhing in his bed and sometimes we heard him pounding on his mattress. He grunted and groaned. I got up to check on him. When I knocked on the door, ”Joshy, You okay?”
I let him work through it as I have in the last few years. He seemed to get through it fine. Tomorrow, he’ll be right as rain. I went back to bed, but just before I did, I said a little prayer for him.
It was about 4:36 am, on a Tuesday morning. I was woken up by a police pounding on my door. They were looking for Joshua. I sent Corina to get but she came back down saying he wasn’t in his bed. We told this to the cop but the cop was just more aggravated about that. He said it was imperative that they find him. I asked him what he had done but then they clammed up and said they just wanted to ask him some questions. I knew that was bullshit.
I asked if a cop would spend that much time banging on someone’s door the way he did, just to ask some questions.
“Who the hell did this Jack-a-mole think he was foolin,” I thought to myself. Still after all of that, I still worried that my boy was in trouble and, god forbid, my boy did something that aroused the law.
“Well if you see him, please give us a call, sir.” the cop said.
“Sure thing, officer.” I replied unconvincingly.
He left my porch and got back in his car, and I shut the door. Then I turned around to find Joshua standing at the top of the stairs. I looked up at him, inquisitively. He could tell by the look on my face that I was suspicious. Then he quickly disappeared to his room.
“Fine, son, but in the morning, we’re talking.” I yelled up at him.
Then the door slammed. I don’t really understand where I went wrong. I had given everything he could have asked for. Still, my son was seemingly unappreciative. I spent a few minutes pondering about that then I decided to turn in.
The next morning, there was another knock at the door. The cop had returned looking for Joshua. Luckily Josh wasn’t up yet so it was easy to say that he hadn’t come home yet. That pencil neck asshole wanted to check the house but I told him that he needed a warrant to get into my house. I’m not some undisciplined hippy fucker that hates cops. I love the cops, and I respect them, when they’re not coming after me and mine for no reason.
When the officer left, and I was sure he was long gone, I immediately went up-stairs, to wake Joshua up. We needed to have that talk. When I got to his room his door was left cracked open a bit, like he’s left it open for me. I guess he was waiting for me. I guess he was gonna make it easy to talk to him. I was definitely relieved that I wasn’t gonna have to struggle to get out of him what I needed to know. In fact, I was optimistic in the fact that I was gonna learn that he had done nothing.
Still, I knocked on the door, to announce to him that was available to talk, but there was no answer. Given the fact that his door was open, I took it upon myself to walk right in, only to find that Joshua wasn’t even in the room.
“Joshy?” I called out, hoping he would answer from a different part of the house. There was no answer. I called out again, but still nothing. I went down stairs thinking maybe he didn’t hear me from the upper floor. So I went downstairs to the kitchen hoping to find him sitting at the breakfast table, wolfing down a third bowl of cereal. I didn’t find him there either. I called out again and still no answer from my son. My wife answered, however.
“He’s gone already.” she said.
She told me that he had gotten up earlier in the morning and left the house. She said he seemed to be in a hurry. I could help but think the worse by then. Reason being, If he hadn’t done anything, he wouldn’t be running.
“That’s it, that’s it!” I belted. “God knows I love my son, but he’s got to go.
Corina tried calming me down but there was no calming me down. I was furious, but more so, I was just tired of it all. We spend a third of our lives trying to raise our children to be the best individuals they can be. We sacrifice so much just to make sure they become upstanding functioning members of society and when they turn against you and all that you try to teach them. When they go out of their way to make sure you feel like you’ve failed, It’s a slap in the face.
All this, I convey to my wife, in one big unintelligible, “Roooaaar!”
All she could do was nod and say, “Ok.” A second later she added, “But promise me you won’t shut him out and refuse to see him when he comes around.”
Three week went by and we hadn’t heard from our boy. Not a phone call, not a visit, not even a note left on the porch. We hadn’t heard him, and Corina was worried. I must admit, I was a little worried but my contempt for his attitude toward life and social responsibility was still high and heavy. I wouldn’t budge on my decision that he needed to be on his own. At least until he’s learned some respect.
I went out to the barn that night. I had an urge to do something, so I decided to go out and do some cleaning. It hadn’t been cleaned in a while so I could kill two birds with one stone. I can burn off some extra energy and the barn gets an overdue clean up. I was sweeping the barn floor and as I made my way toward the back, I noticed the hay on the floor was getting strangely darker than it should have been given the time it was there. There was a smell too. It wasn’t your usual barn smell. It was the smell of rot, dead flesh. Normally I would dismiss it as maybe a rat or some other animal had died or something. That was my first thought. Still, I got curious and started looking around for the source of the smell. I looked around, all over the floor. I looked and searched, and looked some more. I didn’t find a single thing. Then just as I was about to give up and go back to my routine cleaning, I found it.
I damn near tripped over it. I looked closely at it but still wasn’t able to fully make out what I was seeing. The light wasn’t that great back there, so I leaned forward, squinting and straining my eyes, trying to build a visual picture of what was down there on the ground. I looked like bones, human bones from what I could tell. I charged toward the front of the barn and grabbed a shovel. I walked back to the pile of bones and scooped them up and carried them into the light so I could get a good look at them.
They were human bones alright. A few ribs, a femur and I think a couple radials. They all appeared to have teeth marks on them. Strangely, no skull or teeth. I tried to think back, back to a time when I could remember hearing any strange noises coming from the barn. Maybe something that I dismissed as the animals being restless. Not a single memory came to mind. It was just uncanny. I couldn’t for the life of me, figure out where this mess could have come from. Then it hit me, like a freight train in the middle of the night. Joshua. This is what he’d been hiding. All this time, He’d been hiding the fact that he’d killed someone. I couldn’t bear it, knowing that my boy had done something like this. Drinking, okay, maybe a little getting high from time to time, okay; but this, this was beyond the line. I fell, instantly to my knees, weeping, and blubbering like some baby without a mother. My son was a murderer.
I think about 15 minutes had gone by, until I managed to dry my face and suck up the last of my sobs and breathe steady breaths. I hoisted myself to my feet with the help of my shovel thinking, “Something’s gotta be done.” I found myself digging a hold out in the field, the pile of bones beside me until I got the hole deep enough to toss the bones into and not be detected. I truly despised what Joshua had done but I couldn’t just let his life end like this. I consoled myself with the thought that no one knows what happened to this poor soul. For all I know he could have stumbled into the barn, high on smack or something, and died there quietly. Unlikely but no one else would know anything different. So that’s the story if he ever got discovered, which was highly unlikely.
After I buried the remains of Mr. Whoever he was, I sat down on my front porch, drenched in sweat, tired and ready to pass out. I buried that shit deep. Corina came out to see about me and she brought me something nice and cold to drink. “Thank you babe,” as I received the cool glass in my hand.
“You look tired, Hun.” she said.
“I’m okay but this drink sure hit the spot,” I answered. Then she sat down next to me and we stared at the sunset.
In a strange way, I was at peace. I’m not sure if it was because of the fact that I once again-protected my son.
After that day, I went on about my days, as if nothing had happened. I didn’t tell Corina about what I had found in the barn. It would have killed her. I didn’t want her to hurt any more. It was bad enough Joshua vanished without a trace, and without a word, even to let us know he was still alive. No, I just kept that little secret to myself. It was Joshy and my little secret, that is if Joshua even had anything to do with it.
Three months had gone by since Joshy left. Not a word, and not a single sign of him. Then, like a ghost he showed up at our doorstep. He was skinny and poor as could be. I looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Excitedly, I invited him in. With much trepidation he crossed the threshold of my front door. I did everything I could to make him feel welcomed and comfortable. He seemed to struggle with the treatment but he managed okay I guess.
I told him about the cops that were looking for him. I told him that they came around a couple more times after he left. “Those fuckers were really after you,” I said. He indicated that was the reason he stayed away for so long. He told me that he wasn’t sure he was going to come that night but something drew him here.
“I just felt like this was the place to be, right now,” he explained.
“Plus you were hungry and you have no money,” was what I wanted to say. I kept that comment to myself and instead replied,”Well the only thing that matters is that you’re here.”
He looked at me like he wanted to say something important. That look in his eyes, made me think of that pile of bones I found in the barn. I so badly wanted to ask him about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to mention it.
“You have to be hungry, I can tell,” said Corina as she entered the room with a tray carrying two plates piled with food.
Joshy reached up at the plate like a child after a piece of candy. It was absolutely the most adorable thing I had seen in a very long time. So I supposed I’d let him eat and enjoy his dinner before any conversation like the barn bones needed to be had.
After dinner was done, Corina was in the kitchen cleaning up. She was well out of earshot, so I figured it was time to bring up that awful subject.
“I found human bones in the barn,” I blurted.
He didn’t flinch, or in any other way, change his demeanor. I stared at him waiting for a reaction, but there was none. The only response that I got from him was, “Really?
I proceeded to tell him the whole story about the bones, and what I had done with him and every thought I had in between. Still he didn’t flinch.
“Some drunk or druggie, maybe?” he responded.
“Maybe,” I answered. “Could have been that, but there were marks on the bones.”
“Scavenging animals, I guess,” he offered.
“Likely so.” I accepted. Every response he gave to my every suggestion, just made complete sense and it was completely in line with my thoughts about the whole thing. I felt so much at ease with it all. I guess I worried for no reason.
He got very quiet after that. He just sat there staring at the floor. I watched him for a while, watching the carpet fade.
“Something the matter, son?” I asked. He didn’t respond. He was deep in thought about something. “Hey, there, son. You okay?”
He looked up at me with these eyes. I couldn’t figure out what he was thinking at this point. Honestly my head and been on such a rollercoaster ride, I didn’t know which way was up.
“Do you know what day it is?” he asked in a soft whispering voice.
“It’s Monday, son.” I answered.
“No, Dad.” he snapped. “Let me try to rephrase.”
I wasn’t sure where he was going but he was sure to let me know.
“Do you know what happens tonight?” He asked.
“No, son, what?” I answered. I was a little confused by the question. I could figure out what was happening that night that was of any significance. There were no sports events, no events in town, it wasn’t a holiday. Nothing came to mind.
“What’s this all about, Joshy?” I pressed.
“It’s almost time, the sun’s nearly down and it’s almost time,” he answered.
Confused, I looked at and then out the window at the crimson sky as the sun was setting. I noticed Joshy’s breath getting heavier. He started to get agitated and bothered. Then, I caught on. It finally hit me. He came home because he was about t>>>o have another fit. I guess by now he could feel it coming on. Well I was ready for it, hell I’d been through it many times before. >>>>
Joshua started twitching. This was something new, but somehow I knew I could handle it. Then the snorting started. Also something new. I sat there staring at him as went through his convulsions, with his head writhing back and forth and rolling along his shoulders.
“Okay this was going to be a big one,” I thought.
Josh leaned forward and put his face in his hands. His very hairy hands. This was not a fit. It was something else. His twitch became more violent and his breathing even heavier. I thought at that point it couldn’t get any worse but there came the sound of bones crunching, and breaking.
“Oh God, Joshua, what is happening to you?” I cried.
Then through the window, was the glare of headlights. Someone had just pulled up in front of the house. This was definitely not the time to entertain visitors.
“Joshy, we need to get you upstairs to your room.” I said.
I was like he didn’t even hear me. Nor could he hear the voices outside that called out to him.
There was a bunch of hootin’, and hollerin' going on out there. I knew then, it could only be those neerdowell friends of his.
“Josh!” They called out for him again and again. I tried to urge Joshy to go upstairs to his room but he didn’t respond to me. “Josh, let’s go. Get upstairs, now!”
Nothing from Josh outside of him writhing and rolling on the ground. Everytime I looked at him, my heart nearly exploded. I couldn’t imagine the agony he was in. There was also terror as with each glance, there was more hair in places where there wasn’t supposed to be hair.
The air filled with a stench, I’ve never smelled before. I wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but the more I watched my son going through whatever it was he was going through, the more I was convinced the smell was coming from my son. I wasn’t able to focus on that too long, there was still that little matter of the people on my front lawn.
“Josh!” the voice called out. ”Get the fuck out here!”
“OKay, kiddo, I know you’re not in the best of shape, but we need to get you upstairs, now.” I muttered as I took him by the arm trying to help him upstairs.
Then the door crashed open, and as I guessed, it was his friends breaking down my door. When I turned my attention from Josh and on to the front door, I was gripped with a very large hairy hand about the front of my shirt. Joshua grabbed me, lifted me up off my feet and tossed me across the room, like I was a piece of paper.
“Oh yeah!” scream Joshua’s bum friend, Jake.
He stood there, breathing heavily and covered in hair, just like my Joshua. Also like Joshua, I could feel the heat radiating off of him. It was like I had two furnaces in my living room.
“Why don’t you finish it, Josh? It’s what you’re supposed to do. It’s why you’re here.” Jake rambled.
I jumped to my feet, and stepped between the two of them. “You leave my boy alone, Jake.” I ordered. At that moment, Jake stepped toward me and with one swipe, he knocked back on to the couch.
“Finish it, Joshua!” Jake demanded.
Then in stepped the others, Darryl and some other bastard I didn’t know. The two of them lumbered into the house, hairy and stinking to the high heavens. When Jake moved to attack me again, Joshua was all over him. The two began to fight and tussle all over the house. There was only the noise of furniture crashing and Corina screaming and angry growls of the two boys locked in deadly battle.
After a minute or so it seemed Joshua was gaining the upper hand. Then the other two got in it. My boy was truly outnumbered.Still he continued to fight, biting and scratching. Punching and grabbing. Tossing and wrestling. I thought it would never end. All of my beautiful furniture and other things of value were completely destroyed. Smashed to bits.
Corina managed to avoid getting bumped into or somehow mixed up in the commotion, and she made it outside through the back door. There she waited for the outcome, whichever it may be. I, on the hand, got pinned in the corner of the room, unable to get out. Every time I tried to get out of that corner, the dog pile found its way right in front of me.
All I could do was just sit there and wait, with my eyes half closed and my face covered and protected by my arms and hands. The whole thing was so terrifying. Then I heard a loud crack. Joshua managed to pick Jake up, lifted him above his head and then brought him down onto the head of Darryl, the action breaking both Jake’s back and Darryl’s neck. The two of them dropped to the floor, lifeless and dead. The third hair bastard immediately stopped his pursuit of the fight, and ran out the door.
Everything was quiet, now. Nothing was left in the house to make noise other than to crunch under foot. I got up from my useless hiding spot to check the condition of my home. I was devastated over all the breakage, but still I was relieved that it was all over and my son or whatever he was still alive. In that thought, I turned to my son to make sure he was really okay. His rage was still on full and hot. He began stomping and scratching at the walls. I didn’t recognize him now, he was so changed. His body and face full of hair, and face had changed its shape. For God’s sake, my son had a snout like a dog, and his eyes were big and black. He had pointy ears and body-wise, he stood about 7 feet hunched over. I really didn’t know what I was looking at, but it wasn’t my son.
My heart fell to the floor and I was distraught because I knew at that point what I had to do. I reached into the gun closet, where I just happened to be standing next to. I grabbed my 12 gauge shotgun off the rack. Racked a round into the chamber and pointed the gun at my monster of a son. When he saw the barrel pointed directly at him and me standing behind it, his rage immediately calmed, and then turned to fear and sorrow. He hunched all the way down, lowering his head submissively. I knew he wasn’t going to fight me on this. Tears began to stream down my face unstoppably.
I took a deep breath and sighed as he let out a weak whimper. The same sound you hear when a dog knows he’s done something bad.
Corina came back into the house after hearing the noise fall to silence. I guess she figured it was safe to come back. When she entered the living room she was met with the sight of me holding a shotgun on my only son.
“No!” She cried trying to stop me from doing what I was about to do; but when she got right up beside me, she was able to see what I was actually intending to kill. She let out a horrible scream as she witnessed the beast that our baby boy had become. Her protest immediately turned to silent compliance as she backed away, with a face drenched in sorrow and tears. When Joshua saw that she stepped back and faded into the kitchen, he then slowly and gently scooted closer to the barrel of my shotgun, still whimpering but louder than before. It was as though he was giving me the green light to end his life. I knew, then, that he didn’t want to live like this. I knew that all the trouble and strife he gave me and recent years was his way of distancing himself from me and his mom; and that his coming home was for the purpose of this moment right here. So, woefully and trepidatiously I took sure aim, planting the barrel of my shotgun on my baby boy’s head, and in a loud, short Bang. The world went dark. The last thing I remember was the sound of my son’s body dropping onto the floor and my wife crying uncontrollably.
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