Sinners Delight

When I was about 13 I would often go on nightly strolls near the small river and skip rocks by my house in New Orleans. I did this about two or three times a week considering that there was not much else for kids my age to do for fun in my town. My mother usually had to join me on these little adventures but sometimes if not too late I was allowed to go alone. On one of these solo trips that I took started off like any other ordinary night by the river. I started shuffling through my pocket until I found my collection of small rocks. I filled my hand up until it was full and began rubbing my finger through the pebbles looking for the smoothest ones. My mother taught me what to look for when trying to find the best rocks for skipping. It must be smooth with sharp edges and fit in the palm of your hand.

I finally found the perfect rock for skipping I pulled my hand to my chest like you would throw a frisbee. Before the rock left my hand I heard my best friend Jimmy Donaldson yell my name. He sounded ecstatic and began running towards me in a sort of horse gallop. While holding his school bag in front of him and reaching through it seemingly looking for something particular. After finally reaching me on the side of the lake his hand slowly arose from inside the bag with a silver object. It took me about half a minute to realize it was a gun, his father's gun.

Jimmy said he took it while his father was passed out drunk and that we should shoot it toward the lake and try to shoot some old buoys. I knew this was wrong in my head, but then I figured nobody would even know. I literally never see anyone on this lake except me, jimmy and sometimes my mother when she's obviously with me.

He handed me the gun and said I can go first, My hand gripped the handle and my index finger slid perfectly into the trigger. Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger and all I remember seeing was a flash of smoke. My body must have jolted back by a half foot and my ears started ringing specifically my right one. I began to panic! I pressed my hand against my ear while dropping the gun by Jimmy's feet.

I started to run back home and I could faintly hear Jimmy shouting behind me though I could not understand his words, When I finally made it home my hand gripped the door nob and began to turn it. As soon as I opened the door liquid began pouring from my ears. I didn't realize it was blood until I saw the red stains on my shoulder and chest. My Mother began running towards me from our living room shouting at the top of her lungs, asking if I was in a fight!

I didn’t know how else to explain the truth to her without incriminating me and Jimmy so I went with the fight story. I told her that two older boys in masks tried to mug me but when they realized I was only young and had no money they threw me down and kicked my head a couple of times. Being a great and caring mother she was furious and rightfully so, she wanted more details than I could give. I persisted that I never saw their face or clothing but I did end up telling her that the masks they were so-called wearing were red skulls with black eyes. I suppose she was content with that information because her hands grabbed me from the back and pulled me to her chest in the form of a hug that is way too rough for a thirteen-year-old.

We drove to the hospital which was only a few blocks from my house, I believe the ride there in my mother's old and rustic pickup truck damaged my ear even more with all the bumps. We finally arrived and I was immediately cleaned with wet towels and then placed into a white cloth-like gown that showed part of my but, I thought to myself thank god Jimmy didn't see me like this he would never let me live this down. I was wrapped in bandages from my forehead to just above my back neck while also fully covering my right ear.

The smell of cleaning products and medicine that I don't know the name of consumed the room I was in. I could hear steps from down the hallway appearing to get closer, each step kind of stuck to the tile floor much like a shoe-on-gum does. When the sound of steps stopped two police officers stood at my door. One was much shorter than his partner but had a face similar in grittiness. The short one sat beside my bed while the other remained at the door.

“Hello I am officer Pulock and I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about the boys who attacked you”

I began spewing a bunch of lies about how I was basically minding my own business and just skipping rocks when two older boys in red masks started beating me up. I could tell by the face of the tall officer he didn't buy my story but thankfully officer Pulock did. He rose from his seat which didn't make much of a difference considering how short he was. He then folded back his small paper booklet that I assume was for writing police reports.

“Ok son thank you for your time and next time go with a parent to skip rocks, We will try to find those mean boys but in the meantime get some rest”

I felt extremely guilty for lying to the cops but what was I supposed to do rat out my best friend? plus my mother would have my hide if I told her I shot a gun. I have lied to my mother before but never to this degree and never to cops. Nonetheless, I kept to my guns and never spilled the beans the whole three days I was there. On the third day, my bleeding succumbed and I was finally diagnosed with deafness in the right ear.

My mother was livid and swore to home school and not let me out of sight. I could only play outside If I was under supervision by her. Talk about boring, no more skipping rocks and no more playing with Jimmy. Not that I really wanted I was pretty pissed at him for basically being the cause of my deafness. I know I was the one who pulled the trigger but never in my life would I have a gun to pull if it weren't for Jimmy.

Every time my mother and I walk through a park and I hear construction my ears need to be muffled or I will get an extreme migraine. The slightest high-pitched sound irritated and drives a direct pain to my head. That's not even the worst part about my condition, when I am cooking food and seconds before the oven goes off I have to make sure to shut it off or the beep that tells you the food is done will cause me discomfort.

All of these things I have to deal with now and not to mention my mom cries almost every other night. Sometimes she drinks wine and then questions me about the boys who did this to me.

Her voice starts to rise and her forehead begins to crinkle with frustration when she doesn't get the information she wants. She asks what happened that night but I tell her the same story with no new details. She digs and tries asking for more details like what the boys were wearing and if I could recognize the voice they homed. It was pointless for her as I could only tell her the lie and not the truth.

It was nearly October and that means my favourite holiday was coming up. It has been a very tense month with my mother and I doubted I would be able to go out alone and I was for sure not going with Jimmy. To my surprise, my mother walked into my room, which was easy considering the door is always left open about a foot in case I needed her. Packaged up in her arms was a cowboy costume a cheap one at that. It was my step fathers old flannel and a dollar store cowboy hat. I thought to myself this is kind of ironic that the gun that I used was a Smith and Wesson. When I fired that revolver I felt like a cowboy but of course, there was no toy gun in this costume. I could have complained but I bit my tongue because this is probably going to be the only fun I have all year.

Eight o’clock hit and I started to throw on my costume on, The flannel was about two sizes too large and draped over me like a blanket. It wore stains and holes and hung down to my knees, if it weren't for the hat people would think I was trying to look homeless. Through my small living room window, I could see a few children already walking throughout the streets. I yelled for my mother and told her we should probably get going. My mother yelled something back but it sounded muffled so I had to turn my head and face the couch for my good ear to catch my mother's words. I responded with let's go trick or treating mom. I waited a little bit for her to say yes but all I heard was knocking. I assumed it was just some kids knocking for some candy but as I opened the door I did see two children asking for candy. Except these kids were wearing red skull masks with black eyes! What are the odds of two boys wearing the same masks that I described? That I made a lie about?

Before I could gather my thoughts and throw some chocolate bars in their bag. The loudest and most unsettling yet protective scream awoke behind me. The sound of a lioness roar turned into the stampeding of buffalo with my mother charging in a red rage at the boys.

As she barrelled past me I felt the wind hit my face and with that wind came the realization of what was happening. She saw the same boys as I did and she also saw the same masks as I did, as I described! When I snapped out of my shocking revelation it was too late, as a lioness protects her cubs a mother does the same but instead of teeth and claws, it was a large kitchen knife. Once used for cutting carrots for her famous shepherd's pie, now engraved into one of the boy's necks. Blood poured out and covered his body while perfectly matching the colour of his mask. The red skull mask.