The Journal

Status: Finished

The Journal

Status: Finished

The Journal

Short Story by: Derek Atkins

Details

Genre: Literary Fiction

Content Summary

Let\'s step into madness, shall we?
 

 

Content Summary

Let\'s step into madness, shall we?

Content

Submitted: October 31, 2014

A A A | A A A

You have to login to receive points for reviewing this content.

Content

Submitted: October 31, 2014

A A A

A A A


 

 

The Journal

 

Dear Reader:

If you’ve had the unfortunate opportunity to stumble upon this pathetic collection of words, called My Journal, then I pity you, my hapless friend. We are bound now, you and I, to an ever increasing sharing of all things at once personal, yet worn, futile, and eternally sorrowful. I say bound with full understanding of it's meaning; for once someone as soft of heart as yourself has sensed… no, breathed, the torment contained within these pages, your very being will not rest until I am rescued, as if you could rescue me… if only you could.

 

 

 

 

My Journal

 

 

I promise you, my friend, to be honest and truthful in my tale of woe. I owe you that much. I will guide my pen therefore, to lie before you nothing of my own imagining, but only those things in which others can bear testimony. There are many who have turned aside from the sorrow they claimed I’ve brought them, but they can be found and compelled to give account of what I say, if you feel the need after my tale is told.

You must believe.

I need you to believe.

The living can choose to believe… or not, but it isn’t so with the dead. The dead have no need to believe… for they know.

 

My tale begins in 1968 when I turned twelve. Yes, yes of course there was a life I led up to my twelfth year, but I can barely remember it. I had family then. I had friends then. All that changed when I turned twelve.

I do remember the party, my twelfth birthday. It is such a vivid memory, although I think my mind has been at play with some of the details. Most of the memory of that day is intact…unchanged, but not all. I say this to be completely honest with you, dear reader, as I promised. There are clues that not all I remember is as it really was. Some faces in this horrible memory are different, I’m sure of it. They are fierce and hard now, and I know that couldn’t have been the way it was. After the accident, certainly, they were that way...but not before.  They all loved me before it happened.

My true love was at the party, my soul mate, Dora. …I hear you laughing. Don’t laugh at what I tell you. Never laugh at me.  I loved her, and she loved me. It didn’t matter that we were only twelve. Our love was a pure, sweet thing that you cannot fathom.

I told you that you could believe me, didn’t I?  Haven’t I been honest with you?

I’ll try to tell you everything about the accident, the first one, on the day my life changed forever, but sometimes I cannot remember all things that happened.  The doctors told me my mind did those kinds of things on it's own, playing hide and seek. The rules of this game are hazy to me. I call out words like 'Safety' and 'Olli- Olli-Oxen-Free' and other silly things, but they refuse to come out from their hiding places. The doctors said this was normal, under the circumstances, but I don’t believe them. I think my mind is changing the rules without telling me…not telling me the new calling words… and that’s not fair, is it?

 

The party; I remember it all today. It was at Dora’s house, just down the street from the park where we all played, and ran, and shouted at the top of our lungs. I liked her house. It was small with a bright white wooden fence around it. Dora’s mother said the fence kept dogs out of her yard. She said they dug up her flowers. But Dora’s older sister Janice… a horrible name for a horrible girl… she said it was to keep boys out, especially me. She hated me, and I hated her. But I didn’t hurt her on purpose, no matter what anyone says.

Dora’s mother knew how much we cared for each other. That is why she gave me the party, so we could share my day. And she baked a most beautiful birthday cake. She made it just for me; did I tell you that? It was so perfect. The icing was white; swirled and caressed into waves of frosting. And on the top she wrote my name in the most brilliant of blue icing I have ever seen. I like the memory of the cake; it has remained the most pleasant of thoughts, and I think of it often.  In my mind’s eye the cake occasionally has red frosting; sometimes only the writing is crimson and dripping. That is only on my very worst days, the days my mind wants to hurt me… punish me.

 

Janice had to be at the party. I think she could have been somewhere else if she wanted. But, no… she would not go away. Her friends had to be at my birthday too. They ruined everything. They taunted me. They told lies about me, and ruined our games. I hate Janice; did I tell you that?

Dora handed me a knife. It was large and heavy and sharp. Have you seen the knives for wedding cakes? It was a grand knife like one of those. I remember standing at the table with the knife, and the knife glinted in the light. It was like a mirror.

Do you know what Janice did to my cake; my beautiful birthday cake that Dora’s mom made special, just for me? She took one of her pudgy hands and her dirty fingernails and dug deep finger furrows through my name.

Janice then leaned close to me, and with fruit-punch tainted breath said, "Next, we'll dig in your back yard...yes!  A scavenger hunt!  I bet we find Pixy and Princess!"

And she laughed at me; her giddy, cackling laugh.

Never laugh at me… did I tell you that?

 

I turned and pointed the knife at Janice’s fleshy, pink neck.

 

You must be careful with knives or bad things can happen; but I’m sure you already know that.

I must be honest with you again before I continue this tale because I keep my promises. I’m not sure Cole was the boy who shoved Janice. I told the policeman it was him. I can’t say that now. My memory plays nasty tricks on me when I try too hard to remember. In one trick I see it’s not Cole at all, but Steven pushing Janice. Another trick I see, Janice is screaming. But that memory can’t be true. She couldn’t have screamed, even if she wanted to. Could she scream with all that red icing bubbling from her mouth? All that crimson icing dripping over my beautiful, white cake.

Stop.

I don’t like that memory. My mind wants to hurt me now, but I won’t allow it, not today. My cake was beautiful and white, and my name was in brilliant blue. That part is true, I’m sure of it.

 

Do I have to tell you the parts that stir my mind up against me? I don’t think that it's fair, not really. I want to tell you exactly what happened; really I do. But I only want to tell you what I am certain is true.

I remember all the children in a circle around Janice on the floor. I remember the look on their faces, like they never saw red icing before. It was all over Janice… all over the floor. Janice’s mother screamed at her as she lay there in her mess. I think she was angry Janice soiled her dress. She turned to me, her eyes so big, then howled like an animal. Several kids pointed at me. There must be something wrong with me, so I tried to see what they were pointing at. My shirt and pants dripped with red icing too. I don’t think the stains will ever come out.

Can I tell you the lies others told about me? After all, they won’t be my lies. They didn’t promise to tell you the truth like I did, did they?

 

Janice’s mother screeched out a hideous lie that I hurt her daughter, that I did it on purpose. She said I killed her precious girl. She cried and wailed and fell over Janice, and Janice just lay there as still as she could. She wanted to get me into trouble again; she wanted to make her mother hate me like she hated me. Janice would do anything to get me into trouble.

I told Janice to get up. I yelled at her to stop faking. She was ruining my day! I looked at Dora; she was standing so very quiet. I asked her to make Janice get up, but she just looked at me. I walked toward her with my hands held out, but she ran away from me as fast as she could. I remember hearing the screen door slam open, and shut behind her.

I looked back at Janice and her mom lying on the floor in all that crimson icing. It was such a terrible mess Janice was making. I knelt beside her and told her what a bad girl she was for ruining her mother’s new rug. That is when I saw the hard look on her mother’s face; it was so fierce and clenched. She hit me then. She hit me so hard my face went numb and I fell to the floor beside them.

 

I have to be honest with you again. My mind won’t let me remember some things yet. It won’t listen to me no matter how much I ask about some things. I talk to my mind, and it talks back to me; did I tell you that? Some things you don’t tell anyone, not even yourself. But I think I can trust you to know this.

 

The policeman’s lies were the worst of them all. It wasn’t my fault. Someone pushed Janice from behind, but the policeman told the judge I drove that grand knife all the way through her throat. He said I pushed it through with all my might until Janice was flat on the floor. He said I stomped on the handle of the knife until it buried into the floor. He made up these lies to get me into trouble. He showed the judge pictures of the hole in the floor. He said it was from the knife, but I know better. Something must have dropped there on the floor long ago. I was only twelve. Could a twelve year old do these things?

 

The doctors were very nice to me at first. They told me I was sick, but I never believed them. I felt fine. I told them I knew I didn’t do those things the policeman said. When I asked my mind if I had done such an awful thing, it didn’t say anything at all. It always tries to hurt me if it can; it would have told me those things were true just to cause me pain, I’m sure of it. But it said nothing at all… so you see, I couldn’t have done it. It was just a silly accident.

It was while I was with the doctors that Janice snuck into the hospital. I’m not sure how she did it, but one day she was standing behind my doctor, the tall one with kind eyes. When the doctor walked across the room, Janice stood in the very spot where the doctor stood before.

She startled me with an ear-piercing scream. Not the kind when you are afraid. No, no… not that kind; it was the, ‘I hate you and I’m going to scratch out your eyes and leave you with bloody holes in your sorry head,’ kind of scream. She threw herself toward me at a full run.

I screamed at the top of my lungs. I put up my hands to stop her, but nothing could prevent her from clawing those dirty fingernails across my face. I knew she’d leave deep finger furrows through my eyes; I just knew it. I screamed… and screamed… and screamed, eyes closed, trying to protect myself with my hands.

Next thing I knew, my back was on the floor and my hands were being held down. I struggled and screamed and tried to fight back, but she was too strong for me. And all the while, Janice screamed and cursed me with a rage I’d never heard before.

When I couldn’t keep my eyes closed any longer, I lunged as hard as I could to get up; all the while Janice was still screaming and cursing.

But it wasn’t Janice holding me down.

It was the doctors.

That is when I realized I was on my own in that place, for they did nothing to keep that vile girl away from me. No, no… they were helping her! They were holding me down, letting her claw and scratch at me as much as she liked. I struggled to protect myself, but could do nothing but wiggle and squirm like a gasping fish.

The doctors kept telling me to relax, everything was going to be okay, but it wasn’t. Janice circled me now. I begged the doctors to make her go away. She shouldn’t be here. I told them she would hurt me. I tried as best I could to keep track of her as she stalked around, sometimes right next to one doctor, then the other. They did nothing to stop her! They just told me everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

Someone stuck me with a needle. I began to cry. And that made Janice smile. Her smile was crooked and smirking and pure evil. She melted until she was nothing but a bubbling pool of red icing at my feet.  The bubbling pool swirled on the floor until it seeped deeply into the carpet and disappeared.

The next several days I slept. But when I awoke, mom and dad were with me. I was so happy to see them. Dad smiled and mom cried. I tried to sit up; I needed to be held by mom so badly and have her tell me it was all a dream. But straps of leather held me to the bed. I struggled and begged them to let me go, to undo the straps and hold me tight. Dad just looked at me with an odd face, as if I just asked for a new bike, or a pony.

It was the look of no.

As I strained to get up, crying, looking up into my parents’ faces, I remember thinking that nothing could be worse than this.

But I was wrong.

My mind began whispering to me again. I think it had been sleeping too, because it had been so quiet. I almost forgot to wake it up. It sounded different now, somehow soothing and caring and protective. It whispered to me to be careful, to watch what I said. It said dark things too. It said mom and dad wanted the doctors to keep me here. It said they believed all those lies.

Suddenly, my mind startled me with a warning…Janice! She was back, hiding behind my parents. I strained at the straps to see her, to keep track of the beast child. I couldn’t see her, but knew she was there. My mind was sure of it, and so I believed it too.

I remember screaming at her to go away and leave me alone, but my own voice sounded so far away to me, weak and tormented. Mom and dad acted so strange as I pleaded for them to help me; to make Janice leave me alone for good. Janice kept in the shadows, dodging about the room in helter-skelter fashion. But I could hear her cackling laugh. She laughed and laughed.

I found my strongest voice and begged mom and dad to help me. They asked me where Janice was. They wanted me to point out where I thought she might be. When Janice stood still, I pointed. There, I said…there she is! I screamed, Go away! Make her go away!

It was then that I realized Janice was holding something muddy in each hand.  Moma! I cried.  She found Pixy and Princess.  She's holding them by their tails!

God...oh God!  What have you done?  Mama said, looking at me as if I could give her an answer.  I remember thinking, how could she blame God?I don't think God buried them at all, it must have been Janice.

Mom and dad called the doctors.  They let the doctors stick me with a needle and make me cry. All the while, Janice laughed… and laughed.

Mom and dad didn’t believe me.  Mom and dad said the doctors could help me.

 

I don’t believe them anymore.

 

Did I tell you that they never came back to see me after that day?

Did I tell you that?

 

But the doctors stayed.

And Janice stayed.

 

The days turned to weeks, and then into years. I learned a lot once I began to listen closely to my mind. It whispers to me all the time now, teaching me so many things I never understood before. I’ve learned how to ignore Janice and her ranting, at least most days. My mind told me she could only hurt me if I talked to her. Once I stopped yelling and screaming at Janice, the doctors stopped sticking me with needles. It took a long time, but now Janice only circles me... and sulks most days. I can live with that.

I do have to be careful, oh yes I do. My mind likes to hurt me sometimes. It hides things from me, and tricks me, but I told you that already. It wants me to do things I won’t tell you about… not today.

Bad things.

 

When I turned 18, the hospital turned me out, just like that. They said they no longer could keep me there. They said I was better now, maybe healed in fact. They were so proud of themselves.

I smiled, shook their hands, and never looked back.

 

I’ve managed on my own since then. I’d like to say that everything was just fine, but I promised the truth, didn’t I? The truth is, Janice is still with me. She sulks and curses, but I don’t care. She doesn’t scare me anymore.

 

Janice has friends now.

Did I tell you that?

 

I ask my mind where they all came from, but it won’t tell me. My memory has played nasty tricks on me when I try too hard to remember, so I stopped trying.

Truth is; it doesn’t matter to me at all.

Not anymore.

 

A few of them are old. Others look younger than me. They all remind me of Janice. One is black, and two are brown, but all the rest are white.

 

They are all girls.

Did I tell you that?

 

****

 

So now, dear reader, it’s up to you. I believe you can help rescue me after all. We haven’t exactly met, though I have seen you many times before. You’ve looked into my eyes once or twice. Most times you turn your head away... and try to ignore me and my cardboard sign. You’ve never given me any money, but that’s okay.

I don’t want money from you.

Not you.

 

I have a plan, a plan to free myself from the bind of all these wicked girls. And you don’t have to do anything, anything at all. I know exactly what I need to do. Next time you see me standing with my sign at the corner…  the one near the freeway; don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid when I jump into your car and slam the door shut; just drive away fast, as fast as you can. The girls won’t be able to follow us. I know this for sure because my mind has told me so. And even if they try, I’ll protect you.

 

I have a knife, a grand knife, shiny as a mirror.

Did I tell you that?

 

 

 


© Copyright 2025 Derek Atkins. All rights reserved.

Write a Regular Review:

Regular reviews are a general comments about the work read. Provide comments on plot, character development, description, etc.

Write Regular Review

Write an In-line Review:

In-line reviews allow you to provide in-context comments to what you have read. You can comment on grammar, word usage, plot, characters, etc.

Write In-Line Review

Submitted Feedback

avatar

avatar

avatar

avatar
avatar

avatar
avatar
avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

Share on Twitter

Connections with Derek Atkins

Derek Atkins is a member of: