Whisper of Crows

Einstein

1

Somebody smart once said, That which is real, is that which never changes.

I was just another sorry ass victim of a barbaric world where human beings are branded then labeled like dreaming herds of robotic cattle being subliminally led to the slaughterhouse to be gutted, packaged and sold to the highest bidder. On this planet you’ve either got it or you don’t, you’re the beater or the beaten. I’ve learned a valuable lesson this past year. I’ve learned that regardless of my frail and undesirable body I possessed a massive power that lay dormant inside this odd little boy. A power fueled by something I could only imagine as the birthplace of darkness. It’s that black energy that numbs all pain and cultivates an unearthly confidence and a callus cool. This darkly hypnotic healing force picks you up, and gives you the wings of raw sensibility.

I’m willing to bet that everyone possesses this haunting blackness obscured deep down in the darkest crevices of their souls waiting patiently for that one explosive, monumental instant of fertilization that awakens the monster within. I am Kanaan James, Kanaan with a K, and this is my story, this is my song.

It was my sixteenth year on this planet, and October was coming to an end. A strange Indian summer was giving us one last taste of seductive warmth before slamming the door; leaving us to the bitter icebox of death we call winter. I say strange because the air was eerily still like death… hard to breathe. As the red setting sun burned its likeness into the darkening blue autumn sky I aimlessly explored the woods outside Delsin Fala, my boring little back-woodsy Pennsylvania town.

Delsin Fala is hidden deep in the middle of nowhere, and sits quietly along a remote area of The Black Hole River. The town seemed like a good idea back when the railroads were the main source of transportation, but a freight train hasn’t stopped in Delsin Fala in at least forty years. They just blow on through town like a quick storm, eating the occasional day dreaming automobile, or squashing the drunken idiot trying to play chicken with God. Most of the world forgot about Delsin Fala a long time ago, and I would now give my left nut to have it erased from my memory.

Walking through the vivid autumn colors without an impure thought in my fragile eggshell mind I heard a puzzling noise that would soon fracture that shell and become the distorted beginning of this disturbing maniacal nightmare I call my life, the pivot point between innocent boy and hardened beast, the crossroads to heaven, or hell.

I moved closer and closer, the dry fallen leaves shuffled and crumbled with every step.

Was it a hurt puppy? Was it some kind of injured wildlife, whimpering… dying… breeding?

But anyway, having no idea what I was about to embark upon suspense gripped me. It was as if it knew the outcome of this mystery like it was aware of the no turning back consequences I was about to behold.

Pulling aside the leafy branch of a small tree I saw something my eyes were not prepared to see.

Frozen, I recalled an unpleasant memory of a psychotic pastor from my childhood Sunday school days. This memory had a peculiar way of rearing its ugly head at the strangest of moments. Like the first time I remember seeing my mother naked, or the time I played spin the bottle with my neighbor, Abigail Caulfield.

That six foot tall southern Baptist preacher was an angry old man somewhere in his eighties; at least he looked that old. Hell, he could have been a hundred and eight for all I knew… messy gray hair, long worn face and chin that looked like a wrinkly old sack of you know what. Fiercely shaking his faded black Bible in one skeleton hand with the pages flapping back and forth like a trapped dove desperately fighting for freedom he’d firmly grip the old wooden pulpit. I doubt he could have stood without it. He swayed back and forth like a sloppy old drunk, in what he called an intoxication of the spirit. Thick purple veins bulged from his sweaty wrinkled forehead as he screamed at the top of his lungs,

If your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out and throw it away. For it would be better for you to lose one part of your body, than to have your whole body thrown into the fiery pits of Hell.

2

Squinting, I peered through the glare of the setting sun. There before me in the spotlight of descending bursts of solar flames stood a young man. His faded blue jeans were pulled down around his ankles and the backside of his naked body was all I could see. He shadowed a young girl bent over a fallen tree, her clothes scattered around them on the forest floor. The long dirty blonde hair of this mysterious female gently swept her sun burned shoulder blades. One small breast unveiled itself.

The young man’s hands grabbed at her bony hips. He humped her again and again, with every thrust her moans grew. The young man’s fingers in her open mouth muffled her screams. Standing like a pillar of salt, I could not tear my eyes away. It was overwhelming, unrelenting, and Goddamn it felt good.

A bizarre electrical feeling possessed me. My body was alive. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I’m not a pervert or anything; well at least I didn’t think I was. At that time I was still a virgin. Hell, I’d never even had an orgasm before. Sure I played with it here and there, but I never got anywhere. Thanks to that horrible Sunday school preacher, the closest I ever came to having sex was my intimacy with the underwear section of the JC Penny’s summer catalog and even that was difficult.

I was teetering between the world I knew, and the world I was about to know.

The amber sunlight made the young couples naked skin radiantly glow giving the whole scene a surreal movie like appearance. All of a sudden the young man snatched one of her long thin arms and dominantly pulled her small naked body up close to his. The trance was so thick and intoxicating I barely even noticed that when the sun revealed the young girl’s face, it also unveiled life’s harsh reality.

There I stood, unaware that I was about to take a death defying fall into a new world that would change my life forever. Of course even if I had known what lay before me I still might not have stepped back into the safety of the known. I still might have just taken the plunge. There were two people in the world I could not bear to see submissively bent over a rotting log in the middle of the woods as if they were some kind of bestial animal dripping in heat. One was the person I was starring at in disbelief; the other was my sweet Mother.

Feeling the whole world collapse around me, all that was pure and sweet, instantly spoiled, rotted, and began to stink. Desperately, I searched for something innocent, something familiar. I needed something to cling to as the walls collapsed around me.

Abigail Caulfield was all I could think of. She was literally the girl next door; you know the one I played spin the bottle with. I hesitate to describe her for it would be like lassoing a sweet butterfly with a rugged old bull rope. I am sure to other guys she was just another hot chick, but to me she was an ice-cold glass of blueberry Kool Aide on a hot summer day. Her charming angelic voice and cool sapphire eyes spoke words of compassion that were a soothing balm to my lonely heart. She carried herself with a dignity and a divine grace, the likes of which I had only before seen in my mother.

Abby lived beside me all my life. God did bless me with that.

For as long as I can remember when everyone else would tease, she would be there standing up for me. She’d walk me home from the bus stop even though her friends all thought I was a freak. Luckily, I met her before those judgmental teenage years when your social status sets in and you find your self facing the brutal reality of society’s wrath whether you like it or not.

Abby got to know me for who I really was, where if I had met her as a teenager or an adult she almost certainly would not have given me the time of day. Who knows, perhaps us meeting truly was the work of God. You be the judge.

When darkness swelled threatening to swallow my soul she was the bright beacon of light that guided me safely back to a balanced world. She was my anchor of hope holding me securely in a world where everything smelled like sweet wild flowers and all was soft and smooth like a cuddly little white bunny.

Unfortunately the sun will always set, and cuddles the bunny will always die. I’d cling to that old familiar beacon of light, but darkness now mans that lighthouse. The stench of that blackness crept up from behind and penetrated my sweet Abigail, enslaving her in its tenacious grip.

Eventually her eyes met mine. A startled look of shame flushed her perfect white face. Her distraction summoned the young man to investigate its importance. Our eyes connected, and the following moment was akin to a head on collision of two eighteen wheelers on a dark highway in the middle of the night. This was the end of my innocence, the end of an era, the beginning of my nuclear winter.

3

The next thing I knew I was on the ground. Out of nowhere the woods seemed to have spawned two more Neanderthal football thugs. Bearing down on me like wolves that menacing posse of teenagers viciously kicked and thrashed me like a band of dirty cops.

Through a dust storm of confusion Abby’s desperate pleas for clemency beat their wings of mercy against the deluge of the posse’s mindless hostility. Whether they heard her or not didn’t matter, they were committed to their rage. Suddenly, it was like someone put a thick plastic bag over my head and tied it shut with barbed wire. Sound was muffled, my vision was blurred, and a sharp pain which I could only imagine being the blunt force of a foot or fist connecting with my nose exploded in my head. Removed from my body, numb and silent, I watched the crucifixion unfold.

Through my distorted vision I could see the slime bucket punk ass bitch whose dirty paws fondled and molested my sweet Angel. It was Kenny Thomson, an asshole jock strap from Delsin Fala High, who frequently gave me embarrassing wedgies, and on occasion forced my head into a toilet bowl. One time it was right after he took a nasty dump. For weeks the pack called me shit head. This was my wonderful life.

Kenny’s crooked grin and ocean blue eyes distracted from his acne scared face resulting in an overall rugged sexy look. The kind of sexy only a girl or a gay man could appreciate. Now, glowering above me Kenny reached his hand into his jeans and drew out a large pocketknife, then cracked his evil grin. With a quick movement of his hand the four-inch blade locked into the open position and glinted angrily in the sunlight.

Let’s gut this little pig, Kenny said to his friends as they cheered him on. Let’s gut him.

Hold him, Kenny ordered. Hold him down.

With Abby screaming for them to stop, Kenny cut off my pants and underwear and threw them up into a nearby tree. As they turned me over onto my stomach and held me down I heard the sound of a breaking stick.

Its time for your beating Kanaan James.

Haven’t you done enough Kenny? Abby desperately pleaded.

Stop this now…please! He didn’t do anything.

He didn’t do anything. Kenny mocked. Go sit in the fucking car if you can’t handle it. Don’t try to protect this…wait a minute, He paused and thought. Why are you sticking up for this pervert? What… is he your boyfriend now?

It’s not about handling it Kenny. You’ve gone too far. He’s done nothing, and besides, what the hell were your sicko friends doing out here anyway? They’re the perverts…did you know they were out there Kenny? Did you?

She had a point, what in the hell were they doing out there? They must have been hiding somewhere watching Kenny have sex with her. Kenny must have known it too, because he didn’t say a word. He just exploded into one of his signature rages, there was a scuffle, and then I heard a slap so loud it echoed through the woods like a gunshot. Abby went silent and still.

Trying desperately to get up and help Abby I was forced back to the ground by Kenny’s ruthless high school thugs.

Where do you think you’re going, faggot? One of them hollered pressing his sneaker down hard on the back of my neck squashing my face into the dirt and leaves.

Hey Kanaan, Kenny snickered. This is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you. He busted out in laughter and his two goons obediently laughed like a pack of retarded hyenas.

Then it began. The ferocious bite of the stick burned against my skin. I screamed in agony.

We’re going to teach you Kanaan, Kenny hollered. Yeah…we’re going to teach you what happens to little fucking perverts.

Kenny Thompson and his two brutes, Jimmy Day and Brad Harris, played football for Delsin Fala High. They were the most popular kids at school. Kenny was the Delsin Fala Patriot’s star quarterback and Abigail was a cheerleader. Kenny always claimed Jimmi and Brad were his best friends, but I think they only hung out with him because Kenny was the team captain. Jimmi and Brad were afraid of Kenny’s hot temper and violent nature. Everyone was; even the teachers at school.

In the fall of my freshman year while waiting outside my English lit class I witnessed Kenny arguing with one of his many girlfriends. The dispute grew increasingly hostile until Mr. Cap--the history teacher at Delsin Fala and a flower child from the Sixties who had never lost the beard and pony tail--approached the two asking them to break it up and get back to class. Kenny popped Mr. Cap in the jaw knocking the peace loving history teacher to the floor where he repeatedly kicked him in the ribs and back until he was forcibly dragged away by Coach McCormick.

McCormick was like a mob boss and the football players were his wise guys. He protected those helmet heads like they were his own children. Nobody messed with his boys without feeling Coach McCormick’s wrath.

Some people thought Kenny was going to get locked up, or even expelled from school after that incident. The people who were foolish enough to entertain that scenario truly didn’t understand the dark politics of Delsin Fala, or maybe they simply chose to ignore that dark little reality.

After a few days Mr. Cap dropped all charges and resigned from Delsin Fala High School. The administration ignored it, just like they’d done on many other occasions.

There was a rumor that the coach, the principle, and a few other teachers had banded together telling Mr. Cap that if he didn’t drop the charges, several students would accuse him of sexual assault which would result in the ruination of his career, not to mention his free ticket to the Black Hole River State Penitentiary. The football team was the town’s lifeblood and they were not about to give it up because of some liberal history teacher. Delsin Fala High has enough skeletons in its closet to build another school next door out of bones.

For the past three years Kenny Thompson led Delsin Fala to the state championship. He was currently working on his fourth. Kenny had received several scholarship offers from top colleges when he was just a sophomore, and to Delsin Fala Kenny was a demigod, the town’s shooting star to glory. He never paid for his sodas down at the convenience store, always ate for free at Jim’s Diner, and Delsin Fala Police would constantly turn a blind eye when it came to his speeding, drinking, or whatever else he did. It was nuts. The residents of Delsin Fala worshiped that seventeen-year-old punk like he was fucking Elvis Presley reincarnated.

At the ceremony celebrating his third championship Delsin Fala (Well, the Wild Dogs Ceremony, but you get the picture) gave him a completely restored ‘72 Chevy Nova, which was like giving a pack of monkeys a box of grenades. He’d fly through town in that midnight-blue hot rod, at three-o-clock in the morning plastered, tires screaming, spinning donuts in the town square. The Delsin Fala Police did nothing but drive him and his car home so he could sleep it off. He was like the town’s spoiled, over-indulged brat of a child. Cars, free food, hell; he could probably kill someone and get away with it. There is something in the water at Delsin Fala.

For a second, I thought about analyzing the psychology of the moment, however time was pressing. With my clammy cheek to the ground I felt Kenny’s two goons loosen their grip. It was my last chance. I had to try. Twisting and turning, I broke loose from my captors. Scrambling to my feet I ran blindly through the forest, branches slapping and cutting.

Get him, you fucking idiots, Kenny ordered.

Coming to a narrow dirt road I planted my feet and spotted Kenny’s Car. The ‘72 Nova was parked alongside the road but before I could gain my footing to continue my escape I was tackled to the dirt road by Kenny’s two linebackers. The wind was sucked from my lungs and I lay there under those two sweaty beasts gasping for air.

Not a smart move, Kanaan, Kenny approached. Not a smart move…now we have to double your punishment.

Okay, Mr. James, Kenny pronounced with mock authority. One more thing before we set your sorry ass free.

Abby screamed as Kenny sodomized me with the broken stick he had just used to beat me. The pain and humiliation were so excruciating, I passed out.

Slowly as the light of consciousness seeped back into my sleeping brain I heard Abby pleading with me to forgive her. She sat beside me crying and screaming. You animals, she hollered as Jimmi and Brad walked away.

Maybe disgusted by her weak display of pity, Kenny forcefully grabbed Abby’s arm and dragged her toward his Nova. Kicking and screaming she attempted escape, but it was futile. As her arm dragged through the dirt and leaves her hand latched onto a loose stick. It was thick and about five feet long. Managing to get to her feet she swung the stick as hard as she could connecting with Kenny’s head. Kenny dropped to his knees and held his head. Brad rushed up before she could swing again grabbing her in a bear hug. Abigail struggled for a second then jammed her heel down on Brad’s foot. Brad hollered in pain then Abigail jolted her head back butting him right on the bridge of his nose. He screamed and stumbled backwards.

You broke my fucking nose bitch.

Brad stepped back toward her, blood gushing from his nose, only to be kicked in the nuts. He fell to the ground and curled up in a ball screaming. Jimmi then approached Abigail as to subdue her.

You keep your dirty paws away from me Jimmi. I’m warning you.

In a sudden vicious thrust from behind Kenny grabbed Abigail and fiercely slammed her against the car. He then pushed up behind and grabbed her tight by the hair.

You better calm down you crazy fucking bitch or I’ll cut a fucking tree down and shove it up both your asses. Kenny grabbed tighter and twisted her head back. Do you want me to hurt your little buddy some more? Do you?

No. Abigail replies submitting to his will.

Then get in the fucking car and keep your fucking cunt mouth shut!

Kenny popped the trunk, threw in his pocketknife, and pulled out a six-pack of beer. He popped open a beer and took a swig. He looked my way one more time, spit in disgust, and got in the car, slamming the door. The sound of that shutting door left me breathless with relief, as I knew the pain and humiliation was over for now.

Along with my consciousness the loud roar of the v-8 engine spinning its tires faded in and out, in and out. Through the dust and blur of my skewed perspective on the ground I saw the hot rod fish tail back and forth. Abby turned around in the front seat. Through the back window as