WAKING UP INTO A NIGHTMARE
A TRUE STORY
By Cliff Duncan
Come with me, if you would, on a trip. No, not a trip to some exotic location, or far away place. If you would accompany me, I would like to take you on a trip into the mind of a child.
Now, this trip, doesn't require that you buy a ticket, or that you have any luggage. The only thing you need on this trip is your imagination. As we take this journey, I would ask that you use your imagination and picture the things that I am about to share with you. Put yourself, if you will, in the place of this child.Imagine yourself in his position, If you will do this, then I will have fulfilled my purpose in inviting you along on this trip.
So, open your mind, and come along, as we venture into the mind of a child.
THE HOMECOMING
The year is 1971, the place is a mid-sized town called Beaumont, Texas. A small boy sits on the front porch of a small house, looking up and down Pennsylvania street, waiting.
The house is very small, the paint is peeling off of the old wooden walls. The porch that the boy sits on is cracked, and there are boards missing. The screen door hangs loosely on the rusted hinges, and the screen has a rip down the middle. The yard is unkept, and the shrubs grow wild.
From inside the house, you can hear the sound of the 13" Black and White television that provides evening entertainment for the inhabitants of this humble abode.
And the child sits, and waits, ever scanning the street, looking for the person they are waiting for.
He is a very small boy, blonde, almost white hair covers his head, his eyes a deep blue. He has a small stick in his thin little hand, and he is making random circles in the dirt in front of the step that he has perched upon. He doesn't look down at his art work, but, rather keeps his eyes on the road in front of him.
A call rings from the inside of the house, "Cliff, come in here and eat." But the boy is reluctant to relinquish the sentry duty he has taken upon himself. It is only after his mother uses that 'You better come NOW' voice, that he rises and walks slowly toward the door, still glancing behind him.
He walks into the kitchen, and is greeted with a smell he has learned to hate. "Beans again?" He whines, as he sits at the table, and looks with disdain at the contents of the bowl in front of him. "Yes," His mother replies, "And be thankful we have them."
The boy makes a face, and is about to force the first mouthful in when he hears footsteps on the porch. Immediately dropping the spoon, he leaps to his feet, and runs to the front door. And there he is, coming in the door, the man he has been waiting so impatiently to see."Daddy!!" He exclaims, as he runs to greet the man standing in the doorway.
He is a handsome figure, this man. Standing in the doorway in his full dress uniform, the beret fo the First Cavalry cocked sideways on his head. His brass polished to a T. His ribbons and sashes gleaming.
He reaches down and hugs his son, the one that has been watching and waiting so long to see him."Where is your Mother?" He asks as he sets down his duffle bag, and places the brown paper bag on the coffee table.
His question is soon answered, as the lady of the house emerges from the kitchen, walks over to the man and hugs him, and kisses him. The boy looks up at them and grins...Daddy is home.
THE CELEBRATION
The boy is smiling his biggest smile, as he watches his parents. He is happy that his dad has come home. He is gone so much, being in the army and all, it is always cause for celebration when he returns, and celebrate they would.
The old man, as they affectionately call him,reaches to the table, and folds down the brown paper of the bag there, and unveils a fifth of Smirnoff Vodka. "Damn, it is good to be home!" he says with a grin, as he orders the boy to bring two glasses from the kitchen. As the boy returns with the Bama jelly jars, he is rewarded with a can of Coca-Cola. Being poor, like they are, it is a rare treat, and the boy grins and says "Thank you, Daddy!".
The old man pours himself a generous portion of the vodka, and fills his wives glass to the same level. He pulls a six-pack of 7-up from the bag, and tops off both glasses with the fizzy soda. Turning his glass up, he inhales over half of the contents, and sets it down, letting out a big "Ahhhhhhh!".
He stands up, and walks over to where the old record player sits on its rack. He reaches underneath, and pulls out his favorite Jim Reeves album. Sliding the vinyl disk from its sleeve, he place it on the turntable. He turns on the power, and with a crackle, the album begins to spin, and 'Gentleman Jim' starts his serenade.
The boy sits quietly and watches, smiling and sipping his Coke, making it last as long as possible. He is happy. His Mom and Dad are sitting on the couch, laughing and talking, and Ole Jim is singing his heart out. It is a time to be happy...Daddy is home.
BEDTIME
The celebration lasts for a couple of hours. The old man, and his wife, talking and laughing and singing along with the record player, the boy sipping his Coke, and laughing with them and trying to sing along, but he really doesn't know the words. He is starting to get nervous, though, because he knows that soon he will hear the words he is dreading.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, than his mother says "Bedtime, Cliffy!". "Awwwww Mom, do I have to?" Is the whined reply to this most disturbing of announcements. "Do as you mother says, stupid!" His dad hisses as he pours another drink."Don't make me come over there!"
Stupid. The old mans favorite name for his son.The boy tries to remember when his dad has ever called him by his name, as he grudgingly heads for the bedroom. "Goodnight, Mama," He says in a soft almost whispered voice. "Goodnight, Cliffy, sweet dreams!" is her reply. "Goodnight, Daddy" He says, trying to sound as manly as possible for a 7 year old. Silence. The old man is pouring yet another drink, and doesn't acknowledge the boys goodnight. He stands there a second, and then heads to the bed, climbing under the covers, and trying, unsuccessfully, to fight back the tears that are about to overflow his eyes.
Stupid. The name rings loud in his mind, as he lays there, not at all sleepy, listening to the records as they play, and hearing the talking and laughing from the living room. "Why does he call me that?" The boy whispers into the night, the tears sliding down his cheeks. He lays there and stares at the ceiling, his heart breaking. He waited so long to see the old man come home, and now he wished that he never had.
He lay there for a while, listening to the sounds from the other room, trying to drown out the echoing voice in his mind that keeps repeating that awful word. "I ain't stupid!" he whispers to the ceiling"He's the one that's stupid."
Memories of the past flood his young mind. All the times that his dad has called him names come down on him. Voices...No, the same voice, echoing the words of every insult his Dad has ever thrown at him, play a bitter tune in his head.
As his eyes begin to get heavy, he whispers one more protest to the dark room, "I ain't stupid." and falls into a fitful slumber... Daddy is home.
THE NIGHTMARE
The child's eyes suddenly fly open, and he stares at the door to the bedroom, listening to the sounds coming from the other room. Gone are the laughing and talking. Gone is the merry singing. The sounds of celebration have been replaced with a sound that makes the small boy cringe.
Loud voices, and words of hate and anger have replaced the joyous sounds previously coming from the living room. A sudden fear comes over the boy, as the voices grow louder, the words more hateful. He lay there listening intently, knowing what the next sound will be...he's been here before.
It is not long until the sound that he is anticipating comes. He jumps, and his heart starts racing as the loud <SMACK> fills the room. "There it is," He thinks to himself "He slapped her again." The boy lay there a second, angry at his dad for slapping his mom again, but at the same time relieved. "Now it is over," He thinks,"She will go into the kitchen and cry, and he will pass out on the couch." He's been here, he knows what is going to happen next.
Just as he is starting to relax again, he hears something that brings him straight up, sitting in the bed. <SMACK!!> "NO" He thinks, his mind confused, "You are supposed to stop now!" is his minds fervent protest. He eases up off the bed and slowly creeps to the door, only to be frozen in his tracks by yet another loud <Smack!!> and the sound of his mother screaming in pain.
Crying, and shaking all over, the boy reaches for the knob to the door with a trembling hand. He can still hear the voices, but they have changed once again. What was once two angry voices was now one angry voice, and one pleading cry. Just as he puts his hand to the doorknob, he jerks it back, as a loud <THUMP> fills his ears. He hears his mother cry out once again in pain, as yet another of the horrible <THUMP>s fills the air.
He once again reaches for the knob, and turning it, he slowly opens the door. The scene that greets him shocks him, and he stands there, mouth agape, staring in complete horror at what he is beholding.
His mother is laying on the floor, her head resting in a pool of her own blood. His father, the old man that he was so anxious to see, is standing over her, foot raised, perfectly polished combat boot poised to crash down once again on his mothers head. The boy watches helplessly, as his dad stomps her once again, and he sees the blood she is laying in splatter.
His mind races, He stands there for a second longer, and, coming to his senses, bolts for the front door. The old man notices the boy running by as he completes yet another stomp to the head of his wife. "Come back here Shtoopid!" he slurringly commands. But the boy has no intentions of stopping. Out into the street he runs, as fast as his little legs will take him.
Running to the house next door, he pounds on the door. He pounds and screams, but to no avail. He runs to the next house, and repeats his pounding and pleading, but this house too offers no help.
Just as he is about to leave the porch of the second house, he sees a flashlight beam come around the corner. He runs screaming to the light, and is met by a man in a bathrobe, obviously not happy to see him. "What the hell are you screaming about?" The man asks harshly. Looking down at the child's face, the man can see the pure terror in his eyes, and immediately changes his tone.
"What's wrong, son?" is his next question, in a voice much softer than before.Severely hyperventilating, the boy chokes out a reply."My m-m-mom is dead!! My dad just killed her!!"
The stranger asks "Where?" and the boy points to his house, the front door still standing open. The man walks slowly to the door and knocks softly."Hello?" He says."Get out of here!!" Is the hollered reply from inside. The man opens the screen door, and leans inside, only to be greeted by the most horrible scene he had ever seen. There, in the middle of the floor, was a woman, lying unconscious in a puddle of blood, and sitting on the couch, is a man, with a drink in his hand, and blood splattered on his pants legs. "I said get OUT!!" the old man shouts as he throws the glass at the stranger from around the corner.
Ducking the glass, the man grabs the boy up and bolts to his house, Going immediately to the phone, he calls the police, and says he thinks there has been a murder. He gives the address to the dispatcher on the other end of the line, and is told to wait there, and not to try and approach the house until police arrive.
Barely 3 minutes go by, and the sound of a siren breaks the night silence. The squad car comes to a squealing stop at the curb in front of the house, and the boy breaks free from the mans grasp, and runs to the officer emerging from the car. "He killed her, he killed her!!" he screams, as he reaches the policeman.
The officer takes the boy and sits him on the hood of the patrol car. as his partner rounds the corner of the vehicle. "Stay right there, and don't move." The officer orders, and the child obeys without protest.
From his perch atop the squad car, the child can see into the house, and he watches as his dad attempts to resist the officers. He stares through the doorway, as they wrestle him to the floor, and hold him there at gunpoint, while one puts the cuffs on him.
One of the officers comes running to the car, opens the drivers door, and grabs the mike to the radio. "We need an ambulance at 2306 Pennsylvania street now, woman down" is his plea into the handset.
The boy looks up, and the other policeman is escorting his dad out of the house, and brings him to the car. The cop takes him to the back door, and right before putting him in, the old man looks at the boy, and says "This is your fault, stupid." The boy just looks at him and says nothing. The officer pushes the old mans head into the car and closes the door.
Another siren breaks the night air, as the ambulance arrives. The EMTs jump out of the van, and rush toward the house. Almost immediately, they come back out, and open the back of the ambulance, and remove the stretcher.They wheel it inside, and are in there for several minutes before emerging with the limp body of this boys mother strapped to the stretcher.
Immediately, the boy starts to scream for his mother, and try's to run to her, but is stopped by the policeman that is standing by him now."Mama...Mama!!!" are his cries, falling on ears deafened by the blows administered by his dad.
The officer asks the strange man from around the corner if he will watch the boy, and the man says that he will. The policeman squats down in front of the boy, and says "Everything is going to be alright, son.You go with this man, and he will take care of you."
The boy stands on the sidewalk in front of the small house, with the peeling paint, and the ragged screen door. The same house where just hours earlier, he had waited for his dad to make his homecoming. The same house where he had greeted his dad upon his arrival. The same house where they had celebrated the return of "the old man".The same house where his dad had sent him to bed with the name "Stupid" ringing in his ears. The same house where he had been awakened to a worse nightmare than he could have ever had in his sleep.
And the child stands, watching, as the ambulance takes his mother, who he thinks is dead, in one direction, and the patrol car takes his dad, who he wishes was dead, in another.
Horror, fear, anger, sadness, all the emotions that we usually reserve for adults, rack the small body and mind of this 7 year old boy. The questions race through his young mind, "Where will I go?" "Who will take care of me?" "Why does my daddy hate me?" He is in complete terror, more so than any movie or book could ever conjure up...Daddy is home.
A PERSONAL NOTE
The story you have just read is true. I know this for a fact, because I was that little boy. It was not my intention, upon writing this piece, to provide entertainment. Nor was it my intention to draw attention to myself, or make anyone "feel sorry" for me. It is my hope and prayer that, in writing this story, that I can in some way open the eyes of parents. Having seen first hand what alcohol can do to a family, I sincerely hope that someone somewhere reads this, and it helps them make a decision not to put their child through what my dad put me through.Every parent wants their child to love them, but, because of alcohol, I have to tell you that I hated my dad for a lot of years, before coming to know the forgiving nature of Christ. I have forgiven my dad, but he will never know it, because he killed himself drinking when I was 15. My mom lived through this, and she finally left "the old man" and moved us to Louisiana. He committed suicide by drinking himself to death a year later. What does it take to tear a family apart? Not much, just a fifth.
Thank you for reading my story, and if you know of anyone whom it may be of help to, please, feel free to copy it.
Don't let your child wake up into a nightmare.
