The Hot Summer of 1954 (376 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1 on 4 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by digsy (View user info) at 2004-04-17 16:38:30 EDT
The envelope rubbed against the bruised skin beneath his sweater. He had it tucked under his arm, trying to conceal it, as though he were on an intelligence operation. The walk back from the post office was a long one. The envelope was too big to be posted, and after he didn't answer the knocks, the postman took it back to the office for him to pick up. When he went in, it was as though time had stopped. Everybody looked at him. Or so he thought. As though he was marked with something invisible to himself. He always felt scared when out in public, although he had only been in his new house for a matter of weeks, the people seemed to know something, something triggered their senses.
You see, the envelope James was carrying wasn't carrying a letter from his parents. Inside there weren't files, letters or papers. James had a secret you see. Inside of the envelope James had indecent images of children.
James was a pedophile. Well, he hated that word. He often woke up screaming it in the night, clutching his wheezing chest where his ex-neighbours had stamped, and stamped. Every time he looked in the mirror he saw the scars. And it puzzled him. Why did they hate him?
James had just recently moved to Stantbury, after his last home was broken into and he was attacked. About a year ago, there was a large storm in his old town. The rubbish was out ready for the binmen to collect the next day. The wind had thrown everybody's bins across the street however, and empty bottles, broken eggs and rotten fruit lay strewn across the tarmac. In this desolate sea of excrement lay a lone picture. It was of a girl, crying, obviously being forced to appear in the picture. The child was naked, around 10 years old.
When morning came, the neighbours took it upon themselves to break into his home and confront James about this, as everybody else was adamant it wasn't theirs. James had always seemed a bit slow to them. The weirdo of the street. Who lived at home with his Mother. 57 years old, no job and no-one ever seemed to visit. When he couldn't explain it, whack. He was on the floor. The blood poured from James' mouth onto his chest. He didn't feel the next punch, but was told later on in hospital that he had been kicked to within an inch of his life.
A psychiatric evaluation was performed on James. Apparently he had the mental age of a 9 year old.
James didn't know this however. He thought he was normal, like everyone else. He went to the newsagents every morning. He bought the paper. He went home, had a bowl of cheerios and watched cartoons until 10.30. Then he would try and do the crossword. He'd get a few right, and give up, every day.
After lunch he would watch more cartoons. Around 4 he'd go upstairs and play video games until his Mother called him down for dinner. He couldn't see she was getting old, too old in fact to be running around after him for much longer. But James didn't realise and this went on daily. He would then retire to bed at around 10pm and look at his pictures. It reminded him of Mother and Father. Of when they used to take him swimming at the weekend. Father was gone now though. It was just James and Mother, ever since the car accident. They had been living together for all these years.
The pictures of these children, sometimes crying, sometimes smiling, sometimes not aware of the exploitation and cruelness apparent in their taking, weren't horrific to James. They didn't distress him, they didn't sexually arouse him. They made him happy. They brought him back to a time where he didn't have to worry about anything. Back to the days when he played with his friends all day, and the evenings blended into nights in a haze of summer sunshine.
These photographs provided a window into his old life. Every night he would fall asleep with tears streaming from his eyes.
And yet his nostalgic obsession was seen as perversion. James was battered to death on the morning of January 13th, 1994, by a neighbour who found pictures in James' wallet, which was dropped on the street. The headline in the paper said "Death of a Monster".
James was murdered because of his love. He was seen as a monster in his neighbour's eyes. It was the monsters James was hiding from though. Although we will all wish him to rot in hell, James will most likely be grinning. Running in the fields, swinging in the park, rolling in the grass;
Caught in the hot summer of 1954.
User Reviews
Submitted by someone (user info) at 2004-04-17 18:31:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I cant tell if I like this or not. well written, but I dont know what your trying to do with the subject matter.
Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2004-04-17 16:50:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Sorry. Meant to give it a +1. This should average it out.
Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2004-04-17 16:49:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
"Dude, you have SEX with CHILDREN."
- Stan (South Park)
Learn how to proofread. The mistakes really slow down the rhythm.
Submitted by AlwaysAnEagle (user info) at 2004-04-17 16:48:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was really well written.