A Paternal History

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I had been running for many hours until I saw him. He was on a rampage in anger and frustration. I saw my mother laying there dead, her face in shock; she had been pummeled by his predator inside. He only needed one hand to throw my sister, and she screamed in terror. He gave her one final blow and all became silent. I was next; I knew he was stronger and bigger than me, but for safety I lifted my fists. He hit me; it was a direct hit on my nose. It ran like the Nile bursting out in pain and everything that I saw was as red as French wine. Then I felt a final surge like bullet hit my stomach…. Then reality hit me, and I awoke in the car while my mother was driving. It had been a dream just a horrible dream that had been haunting me since we left New York.
My name is Alexander Smith, and I’m a seventeen year old Caucasian male. New York City had been a somewhat great place to live in, until my father spoiled our lives. Frankfort, Kentucky was a good place to see scenery of wild life but not a great place for city boys to live in. There are barely any stores and they don’t even have a police station they’re still using a sheriff. I guess our new home is bigger and more open spaced, but it’s like going back in time to the westerns.
Stacks of boxes arranged around the house like ornaments on a Christmas tree. My mother did what she could with breakfast. We enjoyed our little carton milks and our mini frosted doughnuts; it had been the best breakfast in days. I had asked my mother why we brought so many things and that we were never going to finish in time. But she replied, “Don’t worry; my Aunt Miller’s friends live near here, and they offered to help us. Oh! Here they come now.” A small car with three passengers came into the drive way. Middle aged man and woman, as well as a charming, delightful looking; long red haired young girl had stepped out of the car. She was an angel walking my direction, but looked a little big in the waist line. Oh well, I like a girl who eats.
“Hello my name is Beatrice Smith, niece of Anna Miller, this is my son Alexander, and my daughter Sissy,” my mother said.
“Why hello there little lady, they call me Andrew Burg, my wife here is Catherine Burg and my daughter Sally,” he replied in the southern most accent.
“I thank you so much for coming to help us move in, because well, we have been accustomed to city life,” my mother said.
“Not at all young miss, we help any friends who are in need, especially if they‘re relatives to friends of ours,” Mr. Burg told her.
They helped move the couches and television sets, as well as setting up the kitchen. They talked grown up talk, so I left to finish unpacking my room, when I heard the door knock.
“It’s me Sally.” She said, I thought if I should open the door, but then I realized that my room was a mess so I answered, “One moment please.” I did everything I could to put away any embarrassing objects from her view. “Come in,” I told her.
“Wow! Nice room you’ve got here pretty spacey,” she told me.
“Thanks, you know I’m still trying to settle in,” I informed her.
We talked for many about an hour, she told me so much of this little town and how everyone knows everything around here. I learned a lot about her in that hour; Sally even told me how she’s eight months pregnant and how her boyfriend just dumped her. It was a shocker to hear that she was pregnant and irritating to hear that the guy had left her, but sadly also a relief. We said goodbye to the Burgs late at night, and thanks to their help we were almost done with unpacking.
The next morning, was the day my mother was going to inscribe us to school. We first did Sissy’s school which wasn’t very big and then mine. My school was called Lobo High school (LHS); it was a fairly big school; which had many windows around it; also it had many pictures of a wolf.
All my school history was transferred from New York and they told me I only needed a few more credits to graduate. The secretary asked me many questions, and then she asked me if I was related to Thomas Smith, and I told her that he was my father. How she knew this I don’t know, but it bewildered me on how she knew this. Then she explained that he used to live here in the ’70’s and that she had some classes with him. She also told me that he was a great football star until he was expelled and arrested for his criminal record in school and outside of it. I wondered why my mother never told me this, but I knew that I was going to interrogate her until I had all the answers.
They gave me a list of my classes and told me to go to home room because classes had already started. I wandered the halls because my father came here in this school, this very school that I was attending now. I finally got my brain back and found the room. I opened the door and entered. All eyes fell upon me, and then I realized that Sally was in my class.
“Yes? Can I help you,” the teacher asked me.
“Uh, yeah: I’m new here, so here’s my note,” I clumsily said. The teacher looked from the note to me and was astonished by something.
“Why, dear God, are you related to Thomas Smith?” While he said this, the class went silent and I could feel their eyes burning me with curiosity. But I guess I hadn’t answered his question, so I did and told him that he was my father. Many people gasped but the teacher laughed.
“Welcome to Lobo High School, Mr. Smith. My name is Mr. Turner, and I am your home room teacher, as well as your history teacher,” he also told me to take a seat. Everyone’s eyes followed me as though they thought I was going to do something horrible. There was an empty seat behind Sally so I sat there.
“Hey Sally, how come everyone’s making a big deal out of my father?” I asked her in a whispered tone.
“Well let’s just say that because of him we have a fire department and also why hairspray is banned from schools,” she said, “but don’t worry about it, that was a long time ago.”
The day dragged on and all at lunch everyone stared at me, but thanks to Sally’s kind heart she sat next to me and talked me out of the bad mood. It was not until the end of the day that I was excited in my history class because of its wildness. Then Mr. Turner told us to get books from under our desk, because we were going to read a myth of the town. Mr. Turner talked to the classed and asked me, “Mr. Smith will you do the honors and read us The Lobos story.” So I began to read:
After the war with Mexico had ended and the United States was expanding to the west, there were many problems. The government troubled with Indian tribes that already lived there. One tribe, in what is now Kentucky, was very persistent and would not leave, because it was their land first. They were stubborn and so they were slaughtered by American troops in the attempt to take their land. There were only a couple Indians left because they had escaped into the caves near some woods. One of these survivors was the Chief, Lobohatan, who wanted revenge for his people. Their tribe worshipped the wolves, and they had the power to become half man and half wolf, they called themselves werewolves. All of them went into Frankfort after government officials and got their revenge. They killed fifteen government officials and chewed them up to behead them. The tribe people got revenge and went back to the caves to protect their new land from intruders. Years passed by, and it is said that some tribe members forgave the towns people and came to live in Frankfort. All except the chief, who you can still hear howling hatred for the slaughter of his people. So when there’s a full moon, you can expect something bad to happen.
I had finished the story and thought it was all rubbish, but the faces everyone else had; it seemed that there was an actual werewolf! “So class, do you know why this school is named Lobo? Well, it’s because of Chief Lobohatan and to honor him,” Mr. Turner said.
“So is this a true story?” I asked.
“Oh no, it’s just a town myth that many believe, but it has caused many bad pranks,” he told of the many pranks that ended horribly. Even my father did many bad things in this town involving werewolves.
School was not bad, the next few days it mellowed down and many people forgot that my father was Thomas Smith. Well not until that early Monday morning, it was a cloudy grayish day. Walking up to the school gave a horrible vibe. What looked like words, but they weren’t like words because they looked like red bloody marks of death. Graffiti all over the school and some of them read, “The wolf is back,” and, “ready to kill.” Kids ran into their classes afraid if a creature would come out and attack them. Many were afraid, and stared at me as if I had something to do with it. Then I felt someone grab my hand pulling it all the way into a room. It was Sally, she had scared me, but she sounded more frightened than me, “The whole school thinks you did this,” she gaspingly told me.
“What I would never do that, I was with you all weekend remember we were painting my room,” I said.
“Yeah, I know that, but do they? They’re going to take you into questioning, so when they call you tell them to call me in too okay,” as Sally told me this she was walking through the hallway into class and she waved goodbye.
I hurried into class to make sure I wasn’t late, and surely like Sally said they called me in. They had already called my mother, and as she had explained that I was painting my room all weekend. I had also explained them this, so I also told them that Sally was with me, and they called her as well. They had no proof, until they told me that one of the graffiti’s had my initials under it (AS). They had let me go after an hour of questioning, but I had an idea who did it. It was probably someone trying to get me out of this town, and then I realized that these jerks at lunch kept laughing every time I looked at them. Sally didn’t think this was funny either because now they thought we both did it.
Although next morning those kid’s that were making fun at me were gone, all four of them had disappeared. Well not until midnight, and that’s when the sheriff came screaming into my house and took me into his office. My mother was pouring her eyes out, on what I had not done now. He questioned me again and again, until he figured I had nothing to do with it. He drove us up near LHS, then my stomach rose and I almost puked it out. Four dead bodies that had been chewed out, organs ripped out of their bodies, claw marks in every inch of them, and to make matters worse their heads were several feet away and none of them bared any eyes. I was appalled at the sight of their dead bodies, and once I got closer I knew who they were. They were the jerks who laughed at me. They didn’t deserve this even if they were jerks. Yet again they had not proof what so ever if I had done it. I hadn’t done it to them, well intentionally because they deserved some punishment, but not his bad.
School was a horror to come back to; everyone spoke in whispers when they saw me. As if I was going to strike and attack them right then and there. Now the only friend I had was Sally, she was the only one who believed and trusted me. Many thought it was me who had done those horrible things; even all the administration and faculty had the same ideas. Well, all of them except Mr. Turner who gave me a great piece of advice and told me that this would soon die down. Nevertheless things got worse when the principal, who was interrogating me, went missing. He wasn’t found until the next day in the outskirts of the woods. He had the same fate that the others did; it seemed that everyone who was against me was disappearing. Was I mentally erasing people that I disliked from the face of the earth, or was it someone else trying to ruin my life? Thoughts rose against my head and yet the worst of it came. My mother never came home from work last night. I went to the sheriff’s office to file in a report, but he was useless. I did a little investigating of myself and went to my mothers work at Wal-Mart. Her car was still there, and I found the keys under it. There were scratches around the car as if someone had tried to hold onto it. My sister and I were staying at the Burg’s house because they didn’t want us to stay alone.
Everything seemed jumbled and twisted in a demented way. After that I was going to go pick up my sister from school, when they had told me she had already gone home. I panicked and ran all the way to the Burgs house.
“What’s wrong Alex,” Mrs. Burg said to me.
“My sister, were is she?” I replied in true horror.
“Why I thought you went to go pick her up,” she said to me, and at that moment my heart sank to the bottom of hell. Then I finally got some air back into me and told Mrs. Burg that she wasn’t at school. Mrs. Burg decided to check our house, while I looked in town and Sally would stay home if Sissy were to return there. I looked everywhere for her; the park, the library, and even went to her school again. She was nowhere to be found, so I went back to the Burg’s house and hoped that Mrs. Burg had more luck. Mr. Burg was home now and had made some phone calls, but he had not found her.
“Has Mrs. Burg returned from my house,” I said to them.
“No why?” Mr. Burg answered.
“Well let’s check my house if she’s still there,” I replied.
We drove down to my house and noticed Mrs. Burg’s car. The door had been left open and there was no sound of Mrs. Burg. But to our revulsion everything was on the ground and shattered. The television sets were broken; the couches flipped, and all the kitchen cupboards thrown onto the floor. We found Mrs. Burgs purse thrown in the hallway. When we had reached the bathroom door; it was beaten hard with anger and frustration, and it was bent and crooked now. Mr. Burg slowly opened the door with horrendous fear of what was behind it. There was a body blocking the doorway, we all gasped at what we saw. Her face was bruised, beaten, and her neck had strangled marks. Her clothes we stretched out, and torn. It was Mrs. Burg; she was attacked by some savage monster. From the looks of the place she put on quite a fight but had lost the battle with the monster. We were crying in grief and in hatred for the monster that had done this. Mr. Burg ordered me to take Sally back to the car, so she would not witness anymore. I also understood that Mr. Burg wanted alone time with his wife so that he could say goodbye.
It was the worst afternoon ever, my mother and sister had disappeared, and now Mrs. Burg lies dead in my bathroom floor. Sadly Mr. Burg had to work that night and ordered us to not leave the house for anything. He told us to sleep in the same room for safety measures and to not open the door for anything. He waved us goodbye and told us he would get back as soon as possible. Sally took the bed while I slept on the floor, for she had felt some pain in her stomach when she saw her mother. Sally cried all night and neither of us could sleep, we were worried on what would happen next. Then I heard banging sounds on the back door and wondered if it was Mr. Burg. I called his name and no one answered back. I was bothered by this, so I got up and locked the bedroom door. Sally was freaking out because it was a pretty hefty person coming up the stairs. I called Mr. Burg’s name again but no one answered, it had started to rain big droplets going thump….thump. Then the intruder got hold of the doorknob, I put myself in front of Sally so I could at least protect her. Then the doorknob shook and shook, the door rambled and rambled trying to keep itself in place. Thunder struck and at that very same moment the door gave up the battle and opened. The person was masked in a black beanie, and spoke, “I have come for you Alexander,” he said in a low voice. It was a very familiar voice, but I backed up as much as I could.
“Don’t you dare, run away from be boy,” he said in a fierce manner. I tried to walk closer to the bathroom door to get Sally safely out of here, but then he came at us throwing everything out of place. I opened the bathroom door and got Sally in there, but then I felt a violent brutal whack right at my face. I was down, I heard Sally scream, but could not help her, I fell into a deep sleep, and still wondered whether I was alive or not. Then a surge of fresh air lifted up through my nose, a breeze massaged my face with a soothing touch. I opened my eyes slowly, my hands were tied behind my back and my face burned with pain. I saw my mother and sister on the other side, and Sally was right beside me. We were in some sorts of woods near a cave entrance, it was a little dark, but the full moon was up and it gave some light. “Sally where are we,” I asked her.
“Were near Mammoth caves, and I can’t move my hands at all,” she told me.
“Mom are you okay,” I asked her.
“I think I’ll be fine, but I can’t believe he got you,” she said in a weak and fragile voice.
“What do you mean he got you?” I was scared on who he was, but relieved that they were still alive. Then I saw him walking from the cave. He had a grim face, but almost looked like me in an older way. It was him the killer, the person who ruined our lives in New York. This man resembled someone I knew and when he spoke I knew it was him, “Hi son, sorry about the blow I gave you, but it was the only way to get you here,” he said this like he knew me like if I cared.
“What are you doing here dad, you’re supposed to be at the insane asylum. You need to get help for your condition,” and as I said this he yelled in fury.
“I don’t need help! So what if I have a problem that’s normal,” he said this in a frustrated way.
“Yes, you do need help. Your Bipolar disorder is worsening because of your drug addictions. Look at what you have done to us,” I had said the truth, but at a consequence of him slapping me around in fury. “Stop, Stop,” I yelled. Then he got some sense back into him.
“I always hated this town; they always thought I was crazy. And when I saw those boys making fun of you, I took care of them,” he said this with such delight in his voice.
“You did that, how could you be such a monster!” I cried out.
“I did it so we could be together as a happy family. So I even brought your girlfriend along,” he said.
“What about my mother you b******,” Sally exclaimed out.
My father slapped her silly and said, “Your mother was a nosy old hag and saw me at the house with Sissy. She was in my way of having my family, strong old woman, but I put her in her place in the end,” my father had laughed as he enjoyed telling us his horrors. Tears ran down Sally’s face, I could even feel the water on the ground. But then she screamed out, “My water just broke.”
Our faces turned pale because she was in labor when my father intervened, “This baby is not part of my family so he must go.” Sally screamed in terror and pain, the baby was out; it started to cry.
“Shut up you stupid brat,” my father roared. He got the baby’s feet and whacked it on the floor, clunk, clunk, clunk, and that was all we ever heard from the baby. Sally cried her heart out, for my father was a savage beast and we would be his next victims. He went back to the cave were he had a fire.
Then I had thought of a plan to get us out of here. My mother and sister were a bit loosely tied, so they did the best they could and untied themselves. Sissy untied me as fast as she, and then I untied Sally. We were about to take a run for it when we heard a call from the forest, “Is anyone out there,” it was Mr. Burg looking for us with some forest rangers. My father put out the fire and came toward us; we stayed were we were as to not cause suspicion.
“Get up, get up,” my father yelled.
“Why should we get up, your demise is here,” I told him.
“Fine son I’ll kill you first,” as he said this Mr. Burg came hustling to the spot can yelled for help. My father whip lashed around and shot Mr. Burg in the leg. He fell to the ground and Sally screamed.
“Hello there Mr. Burg I guess you’ll be joining you wife soon,” he was at the point of clicking the trigger when Sissy screamed, “No!” and jumped on top of Mr. Burg. The bullet was shot and hit Sissy, my mother bellowed in dreadfulness. “I hate you father,” was the last thing my sister ever said and died.
“Look at what you made me do,” and shot Mr. Burg until he died. I was furious he had killed many people but no more I went up and tackled him. He shot again and they hit my mother on both feet, and she screamed in agony. I shuck the gun out of his grasp and yelled, “Get the gun Sally, get the gun.” She had rolled over to get the gun, while I held my father up, “Shoot him Sally,” I shrieked at her. Sally got the gun in a trembling way and said, “This is for my family you evil conniving b******,” and shot him three times.
He fell to the ground and felt some pain he caused. Day break was coming and the forest rangers were still looking, me and Sally got my mother and lifted her up. Two minutes looking into the woods we found the rangers, and they helped us to the hospital. We told them that there were four dead bodies in the woods. My mother was in a fragile state and would probably be paralyzed for the rest of her life. Sally had no more parents and her baby was dead, she was better after the doctors cleaned her up. We all had many bruises but would live through it, the rangers called in the state police to go pick up the bodies and one of them approached me.
“Are you Alexander Smith,” the officer said.
“Yes, I am,” I answered.
“Well this is a grave matter in which, I know is tough but can you tell me what happened,” he said.
I surely told him everything and how my father had a bipolar disorder. As well as telling him that he killed the four kids, the principal, the Burg’s, and my sister. He was horrified at what he heard. Then I asked him if he had all four bodies with him.
“Four,” the officer said, “we only found three.”





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