Colleen Sta…Hooker

Virgin hair, eager eyes
one foot in the black the other in the soil.
With thumb to the sky, cars jerked her back and forth.

Experience not at the wheel,
but of the sweat above her brow.
Two cars come and go, but
the innocence of a mother and child
leave with the catch.

Pedal wrenched down.
Metal slid off the highway.
Already eager eyes widened into fear
as the cold blade pushed in the pipe of pumping blood.

With no witnesses
her heavy breaths were unheard,
and hope slid rapidly.
It was the waiting game.

It was always the waiting game…

Dark room
Hands bound
Rope burning
Fists broke skin
Legs swung in air
Noise
Darkness













7 Years

-Would you say that this kidnapping was your fault?
-Can anyone really be blamed for what happened?

It was only slightly unfortunate.
-How did it begin?
-Oh…well it’s quite clear.

It was my friend’s birthday, the 19th of May.

Counting 7 years back I do believe that would make it 1977.
-Yes.
-I was hitch hiking, as I often have, and

had already passed up the offers of two cars.

The third seemed safe enough.

It had a man with his wife and child.

I was certain…but I guess not.
-Go on.
-I got in the car but…
-Yes?
-Once we were off the highway he put a blade to my throat.

Then when we reached a house, he dragged me in.

From there he…beat me.

Until the rope around my wrists attached to my suspending body bled,

and my shoulders ached from the pulling.
-What made him stop?

I guess it was his wife.

She seemed amused but disturbed.

Right after they made love below me,

and then put me in a wooden box.



I stayed in that box for seven years…













Stockholm syndrome

Day 527 hour 13

My eyes can see bits of light, but the smell waters them.
It’s been too long and screams from that child echo.
Under heavy water and flesh is my escape, but weakness consumes me.

Footsteps.
It’s time.

Yellow bursts in, and I am blind.
Arms under mine drag me upward against my ally: gravity.
He’s all too eager, but he must care.
He has to.

He slams me to the wall.
This time I don’t fight back.
No restraints.
This time I just wait.
It’s always the waiting game…
It’s over.

A plate of food slams to the wood with my body,
And darkness returns.
The footsteps outside are lighter, happier, satisfied.
The devil has reaped my soul,
and the small box brings content,
for he keeps me from “The Company.”
He keeps me here with him.

Day after day he returns.
Still I am thankful.
My family is safe and I have done my deed.
The silver lining remains, and I am left with my wooden box.

Splinters fill my hands, but they are but nails of Jesus,
small sacrifices for the lives of others.
As are me aching bones, and tainted skin.
They are but marks of love for my family,
for him,
for my wooden box.

Daylight,
hope,
and the rope burns on wrists return.






Rear view Mirror

Cold sweat, and hot feet.
There’s no “Company.”
There’s nothing now;
So she leaves…all too easily.

Janet stays, but is not far behind.

He says he wants more.
He wants to sign others as his slave.
He wants to find more,
to let history repeat those seven years.

Now both have left.
They’ve moved on, created new families, forgotten.
But how?
He hasn’t.

All that’s left is him and the wooden box.

Police come to find the remains.
They ask questions,
good ones,
not good enough.

Still he is gone.
Locked up forever in his own cage not far from hell,
and the wooden box remains.