A vivid nightmare I've dreamt that will never be forgotten after a visit to an exhibition about murder & crime cases.
I woke up from my sleep and realized from the sunlight it was morning, slowly I got up from my old worn bed and headed out of my room, with whom I share one of my older brothers who still snored quietly above my bed. I walked dozily down the corridor and went to the kitchen in my shorts.
My mother had her back to me and was pan frying something for breakfast. She was slim, wearing a simple dress in sky blue colour and a white apron tied round her hip. From the dress I noticed it has not been washed for days due to the dust giving the blue a grayish tone and sweat spots. Her shoulder long curly red hair was loose and she had a pale complexion. "Good morning." She spoke softly without turning to me. Her voice sounded very warm and lovingly to my ears.
I smiled. "Morning Mom."
The kitchen was not big, along the walls were few small the cupboards, the fridge, the oven and the cook top in well used state that it gave a poor and wild look. In the center of the kitchen stood a small rectangular shaped wooden table with chairs. There sat Dad reading newspaper and sipping his cup of strong black coffee. I did not see his face because of the huge newspaper and I was small but he gave short. "Morning son."
I went to the table and sat down; Mom came up and served me a plate of fried eggs and bacon while I poured myself a glass of orange juice.
"There you go, Jack." Smiled my mother to me. She had rosy cheeks and few freckles round her nose and her blue eyes were as warming as her voice. "William! Come on down! Break fast is ready!" She called down the corridor.
I barely heard a groaning from my brothers while I ate.
"William, get up now! Or you'll be late for school!" She called again down the corridor.
Suddenly I heard a thud. It must be William who fell off the bed as per usual. Soon he came into the kitchen rubbing at times at his left knee and bottom. Because of rubbing his knee and bottom I started laughing.
"Jack, knock it off. It's too early." He moaned annoyed as he sat at the table.
I could not stop laughing, it was too funny. He sat at the opposite side of me. Suddenly I felt painful kick in the shin. I gave a cry, half in laughter due of surprise and half in pain.
"Boys, stop it." Gave Dad monotone from behind the newspaper. I heard a soft snigger from Mom.
William and I finished our break fast, grabbed our school leather bags, bid a short goodbye and walked for a good mile to school; across a part of a flat dusty landscape with few bushes before the next town came. In school I did my best, always getting A or B mark and done with little effort. The teacher always explained it well and I understood it well.
My parents made it clear that they can barely afford it and that I am lucky. I went to fourth grade while William went to high school. Mostly after school we would walk together home due the school's schedule, not every day but often like three or four times in the week.
Then one fine afternoon as I got out earlier than William; I walked home alone. As I arrived I saw my other older brother Henry wearing greased blue washed jeans alike working-trousers of some garage he is working.
He gave me a short "Hi." And continued to discuss with my Mom about something. From their faces and tone it sounded serious. As I walked to my room I noticed it was about money and Dad. The wooden walls are thin here and even a mere whisper can be here. So much the walls have ears.
Suddenly a loud row came from the corridor from the voice I noticed it was Dad, Mom and Henry. Soon following I heard a door slam. Out the window I saw Henry pacing angered around the house and muttering under his breath. Knowing this is none of my business and so I started on doing my homework.
Later on William came. In the corridor I hear Dad calling me. I went to the corridor; he was not there. Then I walked on to the kitchen to see if he was there and he was. Sitting in the same chair, only all dirty and smelly including holding a glass bottle of some spirit, maybe whiskey. He had very short cut bronze, straight hair and a thin beard was growing around the jaw and mouth. His skin looked greasy and tanned from the sun. "Dear Jack, could you go an' help Mom? She needs some help with Henry."
"Where is Henry?" I asked.
"Down the corridor. He's fallen to bits, you see." He answered calmly but from his smell I knew it was the booze that made him talk so. Knowing I have not seen him there but having another look does not hurt. So I walked down the corridor and close by the entrance door I found a jute sack lying there. Mom was already pulling it out the door. As I came up closer I noticed at one temple of Mom's forehead was bruised badly.
"What happened?" I asked her worriedly.
"It's nothing. It's just me being foolish." She responded lightly out of breath while pulling the sack out. It must be heavy that she is carrying it out so. Somehow from her tone and choice of words gave me the impression that it was Dad's doing.
I did not say a word and bent down to help. An odd and revolting smell penetrated into my nostrils that gave me a chill down my spine and my heart began to race.
"No! Don't touch it, Jack!" She called on edge. As if I were to touch something explosive.
Suddenly I noticed from the sack came a horrible gushing sound as Mom pulled and saw a red trail from the sack. Immediately I stepped back in fear. Gasping in awe and barely realizing not what but who was in the sack. Frozen stiff on the spot. Not able to scream or do anything.
Many days later I came home from school, alone. Usually on that day William and I would be walking home together but he would not show up, so I went ahead. As I entered the old wooden, dusty and battered house I heard from the kitchen Dad talking to someone. My curiosity rose and sneaked as quiet I could close to the kitchen. Fear began to grow under my chest knowing what he had done to Henry and can do it easily on me. From a brief peek I noticed he was talking to himself or otherwise the empty bottle of booze and Mom was no where to be seen.
Although a brief peek, Dad noticed me and called me. "Jack, come here." With a demanding voice and almost fierce.
I took a deep breath and entered the kitchen. My heart raced in fear. If I run then he might kill me, so if I obey it will turn out differently, hopefully.
"Come here." He demanded and waved a hand. As I came closer he patted my shoulder and smiled warmly. Looking up into my eyes. "Jack, you were always my favorite son and still are. Such a good, kind and smart boy." His warming words gave me the courage to ask.
"Dad, why aren't you working?"
"Why I'm not working? I got a good time off. How was school today?" He asked warmly and stroked my head. As if nothing happened with Henry or of the sort.
I told him shortly how my day was and then asked. "William didn't come home with me. Where is he?" I asked curiously.
"Oh, he got off early in school and is hanging around in the living-room now." Dad answered merrily. "Such a good boy." He smiled while I slowly stepped back.
I was still afraid of him but less than before. I gave a forced smile to him and walked down the corridor towards the living-room. Hoping to find William. As I entered I was frozen in awe what I saw. In the middle of the room from the ceiling I saw a rope and on the other end hung a white cloth covered body. The cloth was snow white without the rope it would have looked like a ghost. Lest not to see the hung body but I still saw the bare feet. Although entirely covered I recognized it was my brother William. I gave a brief gasp and tears began to well in my eyes. I wanted to scream but fear got hold of my throat. Everything began to hurt.
Behind me I heard from the kitchen Dad calling my Mom. Soon Mom was beside me, tears were streaming down her pale cheeks. "We should clean this up." She sniffed softly and walked ahead. I wanted to help her but not this! I can not even come near the dead body of my brother! I just can not! Although dead I just could not touch him. I began to shake my head.
"Don't worry, you don't have to touch the body but please help me bring him down." She voice sounded shattered and sorrowful. "Please help me." She repeated as she already held up the body so that I can easily untie the rope from the ceiling.
I quickly grabbed a chair from one corner of the room and untied the rope.
This short story that you've just read is entered not only in my diary but also in my mind in horror. Not knowing how something gruesome got into my head by just seeing things in an exhibition about murder and crime what was not shown. Luckily it was just a dream but it still frightens me to think how I came up to something like that. Living in America back in time of the 1930s or 40s as a young blond haired boy around the age of nine.
I am an only child (born in the 1990s) in the family and my parents are super and have no addictions to drugs, except chocolate. Plus the looks are different compared to the dream, I am a woman and live in Europe.
Although it was not shown visible in the dream, I knew my Dad had drinking problems since his company got bankrupted. He had at many nights aggressive outbursts and killed thus my brothers Henry and William. Henry was a full grown adult, working independent in a garage and came to help Mom and with William I do not know what reason was that he got killed by Dad. Dad violently hit Mom when she tried to take away the bottles or hide them from Dad but she was strong, brave and never gave up until William got killed. Why I was Dad's and Mom's favorite child were not only the good marks in school, I was the only blond haired boy in the family and the youngest.
At times I wonder if I have gone round the bend to come up something like this?