Stan wickedly laughed while closing the lid, then buried the metal toolbox back into the ground.
***
"Where have you been, young man???" demanded Father who was standing by the front door as Stan walked in.
"I was at work." carefully answered Stan.
"No you weren't!" accused Father. I fueled up at the Texaco gas station before it closed for the night and then happened to drive past the dime store. The lights were out, and the owner, Mr. Green, was leaving for the night. "Now where were you?"
Stan was at a loss of words. He certainly couldn't admit to living out his morbid fetishes at the forest preserve. He merely looked at the ground and shrugged his shoulders while answering, "I don't know..."
"You don't know?" challenged Father. "Well aren't you man enough to be honest and admit that you were joy-riding in your Mother's car?"
Mother stood behind the kitchen door and listened attentively. She hoped that Father would talk some sense into their son. She suspected that maybe he was joy-riding in her car after work.
"Now I want you to tell me where you were tonight. Or maybe you'd like a good, stiff beating. That's what you need if you ask me! We've been waiting for you to come home for dinner, and your mother has been worried sick."
"I guess I just wanted to drive a little..." explained Stan. "You know... get a little practice?"
Father returned a menacing look. "You don't need any extra practice. When you finish work, you are to come home. Understand?"
"Yes sir..." answered Stan.
"Now clean up for dinner! And you're grounded this weekend!"
The reader shouldn't feel so bad for Stan. It's what he deserved for the terribly-naughty thing that he did.
***
The following weekend when Stan wasn’t grounded, he developed a sudden interest in riding his bicycle. Although he was now licensed to drive and could borrow Mother's car for legitimate use, Stan showed a peculiar need to resume riding a bicycle. He did this, of course, to avoid any further problems with driving the car to the forest preserve to have his way with that doll buried in the metal toolbox.
Of course Father was initially curious and somewhat suspicious. "Back to riding your bike?"
"Yes sir."
"You can take your mother's car as needed." reassured Father. "We just need to know where you are going and what time you will be home."
"I kind of like to get some exercise." nervously explained Stan. Then he somewhat fessed-up to his objective in riding his bicycle. "I actually like to ride my bike over to Berry Bush Forest Preserve and ride around there for the scenery and stuff."
Father sighed, "Well... Let me think about that... Are you sure you are not going there to do some questionable activity? I hope it doesn't involve girls. No girl, after all, belongs in the forest to have a young man try and pull tricks on her. The only ones I can think of are the bad girls. And I don't think I want you meeting bad girls in the forest preserve. Is that what you are doing? "
"No sir!" reassured Stan. "I just like to ride my bike. And when I want to take out a girl, I will ask to use Mom's car."
"You haven't joined a gang or anything, have you?" continued to probe Father.
"No sir."
Father sighed, "Well, okay. I suppose I'm just going to have to trust you."
"Thank you, Sir." And with that, Stan rode off down the street on a Saturday afternoon—a Saturday that he didn’t have to work—to the Berry Bush Forest Preserve for some nice exercise and scenery. Ah, but we know his real reason for going there. Stan also had hidden in the leg of his trousers the hand shovel which was tucked into his sock. About a block away, Stan stopped for a brief moment to further tuck the shovel into his sock. He didn't want it falling out.
Onwards Stan peddled; down the main road in town, past the dime store where he worked, and to the entrance of the Berry Bush Forest Preserve. This time he simply bicycled his way through the trail and then stepped off to walk his bike the remainder of the way to the gravesite. When there, Stan quickly exhumed the steel toolbox and opened it up.
There lay the doll with her terrified expression on her face. How long would this morbid game last? How long would she need to endure the repeated rape? And how long would it be before Stan was no longer interested in her?
Now on this particular incident, Stan was in in danger. You see, Father wasn't one hundred percent convinced that his son was merely cycling over to the Berry Bush Forest Preserve to enjoy some scenery. What teenage boy is interested in that? And so Father waited about ten minutes after Stan left, and then drove over to the forest in his black Pontiac Bonneville.
Upon arrival, Stan was nowhere in sight.
"Well, he's probably out on the trail like he said he would be." Father put the transmission in park and turned off the engine. "Let's see if we can find him... see what that boy is up to."
There was another car parked in the lot, a gray 1960 convertible Thunderbird with the top down. Back in those days, leaving one's car unlocked and exposed wasn't such a stupid thing to do like it is nowadays. You see, people had a better sense of right and wrong and didn't look for opportunities to steal; probably because they had parents like Stan who made it their business to get into their kids’ business.
"Well I wonder if this car belongs to those girls that Stan is meeting in the forest." speculated Father out loud.
But, despite what Father might have speculated, the car didn't belong to imaginary girls who were meeting Stan in the forest. Rather, it was a newlywed husband and wife who were enjoying a nice picnic out in the Berry Bush Forest Preserve. Actually, they were just finishing up, and were repacking their food into the basket.
"This was so nice." commented Laurie to her new husband, Richard, while finding room in the basket for the remaining chicken. "Richard?" she asked.
"Yes, Darling."
"Promise me that when we have a family, we'll take the kids out here to enjoy picnics like this."
"Of course, Darling. Anything you want..."
With that, Richard and Mary set off for the main trail to hike back to the car.
In the meantime, Stan's Father set off on the main trail to hike through the forest and look for his son. If Stan were truly riding his bike, all Father would have to do was listen for the sound of tires rolling in the gravel.
Back to Richard and Laurie; both leisurely hiked their way down the main trail. At one point, Laurie suddenly called out to her husband, "Richard?"
"What, Darling? What is it?"
"What's that boy doing over there? Did he fall down and get hurt?"
It was Stan who Laurie noticed. He was some fifty feet off the main trail and kneeling in the forest. Stan's back was arched and he was exhibiting a facial expression that reminded Laurie of someone who was in pain.
Richard, however, had a different interpretation. He knew the boy was doing something that was naughty. Richard assumed there was a girl laying beneath him. But keep in mind that this was olden times. Men were gentlemen, and wouldn't dare suggest to their wives that sexual activity was taking place in the forest. "Umm... gee, that's strange." commented Richard. I don't know what he's doing."
"Well is he hurt?" suggested Laurie.
At this point, Stan looked up and realized that he had spectators—spectators who he made eye contact with. Immediately the morbid fantasy had ended.
"Are you alright?" called out Richard.
"Yeah, I'm okay answered Stan. I'm just getting something." While saying this, he quickly tossed the terrified doll into the metal tool box, closed the lid and set it back into the ground. Before covering it back up with soil, Stan nervously lay on the ground, and pulled his trousers back up in case the curious spectators would come over to see what he was doing.
But, apparently they were not interested. Both Richard and Laurie continued to hike back to the car. By now, Laurie realized that the boy was doing something that he shouldn't have been doing. But, again, things like this weren't discussed i
n olden times.
A few minutes later, Stan's father encountered Richard and Laurie on the walking path. "Excuse me!" he called out.
"Yes?" answered Richard.
"Is that your Thunderbird parked in the lot?" asked Stan’s father. He wanted to verify that it didn't belong to those imaginary girls.
"It is." answered Richard with a note of concern. "Did it get hit?"
"No your Thunderbird is fine." reassured Stan’s father. "I apologize. You see, my son is here and he claims he is out riding his bicycle in the woods. I was concerned that maybe he was meeting some girls out here."
Richard nervously glanced at his wife.
Richard’s father definitively noticed. "You didn't happen to see a teenage boy riding his bike, did you?"
Laurie spoke up, "Well we did see that boy off the main trail. He was kneeling on the ground and..."
Richard interrupted his wife, "Yes, it looked like he was bending down to pick something up."
Laurie stared at her husband for a second. Was Richard sure that's all it was?
Stan's father grew all the more curious. "Kneeling on the ground? Are you sure he wasn't with some girls?"
It was then that Richard grew outraged. You see, Richard was a young newly-wed and felt a need to demonstrate himself as having a certain merit in society; maybe equal to those who are some years older than him. He sharply asked, "Hey, what's the big idea of asking all the questions about your son?
"I'm sorry..." apologized Stan's father.
But Richard continued, "If you're so concerned about what he's doing, then he's your responsibility, not ours!" Richard looked over to his wife and ordered, "Come-on, Laurie, let's go."
And with that, the pair of newly-weds continued hiking back to their car.
Poor Father, he was worried about his son. From the looks of the newly-weds, they had seen Stan doing something that wasn't right. What could Stan have possibly been doing? Father continued onward in hopes to locate his son.
Not more than three minutes later, Stan and his Father finally approached and faced one another on the main trail of the Berry Bush Forest Preserve. Stan knew that he was to stop and dismount his bicycle, and he did so.
"Well I suppose you have some explaining to do." began Father.
"Sir?" questioned Stan. "What do you mean? I'm riding my bike in the forest like I said I was going to do?"
"Never mind that!" snapped Father. I ran into a pair of newly-weds who said that they saw you in the forest off the main trail. They said you were kneeling on the ground."
Immediately Stan blushed, and his heart rate increased. Did they report to Father of what he was doing?
"Now I'm going to ask you once. What were you doing out there?"
Stan quickly made up a lie. "Well, Sir, I'm almost embarrassed to admit. I rode off the main trail to enjoy the scenery some more, but fell off my bike."
"You fell off you bike?" asked Father in disbelief.
"Yes, Sir, that's the honest truth. See my hands?" Stan held out his soiled hands which in truth had been dirtied by quickly covering the ground over the buried metal tool box. "They got dirty when I braced my fall. And that couple probably saw me at the very moment when I had fallen."
"Well are you alright?" asked Father with a note of concern.
"Yes, Sir." answered Stan. "My hands might be a little scraped, but I'll be okay."
"No, something's not adding up." remarked Father. Why is your heart racing? It looks like you are nervous. It looks like you are covering something up from me."
"Well I was riding my bike." offered Stan. "Of course my heart is beating faster. I swear, I'm telling you the truth about everything."
Father heard enough. As far as he was concerned, Stan had been doing something that he wasn't supposed to in those woods. But for now, he would play it off that he believed him. "Okay, fine." answered Father. "Maybe the whole situation just looked weird. Are you alright to make it back home?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Then I'll see you when I get home."
With that, Stan mounted his bicycle and proceeded to ride off towards the parking lot of Berry Bush Forest Preserve. From there he peddled on the main road in town and head home. Halfway there, he realized that in his frantic state of quickly burying the toolbox, Stan had left Father's hand shovel near the grave.
"Oh no!" exclaimed Stan. "I'll have to go back later and get it." You see, Stan was worried that the pair of newly-weds would have called the police. He needed to quickly leave before the police possibly arrived.
Unfortunately for Stan, he would never have an opportunity to retrieve the hand shovel. Like mentioned above, parents were a little different back in those days. They didn’t believe their kids when something looked suspicious. And kids weren’t let off the hook so easily.
Stan’s bicycle tires left fresh tracks on the gravel trail. Father simply followed them until they stopped at the place where Stan wandered off into the forest. Although Stan had gotten off his bicycle to walk it which no longer left tire tracks, Father simply continued to walk.
“He couldn’t have gone too much further…” Father continued walking. “Anything… cigarettes… maybe a lipstick from whatever girl he was with…”
But what was this?
So unexpected; some fifty feet off the main trail and near a large, old tree; Father discovered a hand shovel. “That’s my hand shovel.” he silently exclaimed. “What in the world is that doing here?” Then he glanced over near the tree and could see that a fresh hole had been dug and then the dirt covered back over it. “He buried something?”
With the hand shovel, Father quickly began to dig around the area which—unbeknown to him—was the doll’s grave. Moments later, he reached the metal toolbox. “This is my box.” exclaimed Father. He pulled the metal toolbox from the ground and took a deep breath. “Alright, is he stealing money and hiding it…? Maybe from Mr. Green’s dime store?”
But, no! It was nothing like this. When the metal toolbox was opened, there lay the terrified doll who quickly looked relieved to finally be rescued. Her ordeal of repeated rapes and then being buried in the ground was finally over.
“Why this is Sherry’s doll!” exclaimed Father. “What is wrong with that boy?” He closed the lid, and walked back to the car with the metal toolbox and shovel in hand.
***
Fifteen minutes later, Father entered the house with both the toolbox and hand shovel. He entered the kitchen where Mother was cooking dinner. “Where’s Stan?” he asked.
“Well he came home and went right up to his bedroom.” answered Mother. “Why, is there something wrong?”
“I’m afraid there is.” affirmed Father. He walked over to the foot of the stairs and called out, “Stan, come down here.” While waiting, he set the toolbox and hand shovel on the kitchen table and then sat down.
Cautiously, Stan descended the stairs. He could tell by the tone of Father’s voice that he was in trouble. And upon entering the kitchen, he could finally see what it was.
“Sit down.” ordered Father.
Stan pulled out the chair and sat down at the table across from Father. His heart was definitely racing, now.
Mother stood near the kitchen counter and quietly prepared dinner while listening.
“Now don’t tell me that your heart is racing because you were riding your bike.” warned Father.
Stan remained silent.
“Son, I’m still at a loss of how to process all of this. You see, after you left, I followed your tire tracks until they ended. I assumed that was where you deviated off the main trail and hiked to wherever it was that you were going. And I was right. I’m sure you realize that there is no point in lying because this is clearly my hand shovel. That’s what I found. And I noticed that there was a fresh hole which had been dug and covered up. I was really curious. I thought you had been stealing money from Mr. Green’s dime store and was burying it in the forest. But then I uncovered my toolbox from the basement.
And inside…” Father opened the metal toolbox. “…there lay your sister’s doll. Young man, you have a lot of explaining to do.”
Stan’s face was beat red out of embarrassment and humiliation. All he could do was shrug his shoulders. “I… I… I was just…”
“Just what?” demanded Father.
Just then Stan’s sister, Sherry, entered the kitchen and spotted her doll. “Betsy!” she exclaimed while rushing over.
“Sherry, no!” warned Father. “Your mother is going to have to clean Betsy. She’s dirty.” You see, although interrogating his son for an explanation, Father was aware of what Stan did to the doll in the forest. He resumed his interrogation, “Son, do you have any idea as to what this looks like?”
Stan shrugged his shoulders and did his best to keep from crying.
“This looks like you are some sort sexual pervert…”
“Henry!” cried out Mother.
“Let me finish!” snapped Father. “There is no point in pretending. Our son has a problem, and we need to correct this. As for you, young man…” he glared back at Stan. “It looks like you have some perverted desires of molesting the dead. That’s called necrophilia. And it’s a crime not only punishable by serving jail time, but it’s also a mortal sin. I’m afraid I’m going to have to dish out some punishment to teach you a lesson—see to it that you never do this again.
Stan’s lips quivered and the tears rolled down his cheeks. He knew the sort of punishment that Father referred to, and dreaded it.
“For starters, since you like playing in the dirt so much, you can go outside every Saturday and Sunday when you are not at the dime and do plenty of yardwork for us. And while doing that, you can think about what a bad kid you are. And Stan… I’m afraid this is going to hurt me more than you, but you can get your ass upstairs and bend over on the bed. I will be there shortly to deal with you.
Stan sobbed and ran up the stairs in terror. The last time Father dealt with him, he felt like he was close dying. He bent over and lay on the bed. While waiting, he imagined Sherry’s doll who must have cried out for mercy whenever enduring Stan’s sick play. Stan had been a monster in that doll’s eyes, and ignored any pleas from her to stop. Perhaps Stan deserved what was about to happen.
In stormed Father with the thick, leather belt. He raised his arm in the air and unleashed the wrath of God across Stan’s ass in the form of stinging leather. Father did it again and again—at least a dozen times before adding words to the beating. “You steal my metal toolbox and hand shovel to do something perverted in the forest preserve!”
The Dead Forest Page 2