Murder On The Air

I Would've Done So Already

October, nineteen hundred and eight

During one night that would soon scar him for life, twelve year old Alastor was woken up by thuds and muffling sounds. His mother was cleaning up the kitchen after a long late day of work. The sounds wouldn't stop, so the young boy got up to investigate. He walked quietly down the upstairs hallway and saw a few empty beer bottles leaned up against the wall. The door to his father's room was open a crack and a thin sliver of yellow light shone through.

Very strange. His father was usually never up this late. He opened the door a bit and a most horrifying sight met his eyes.

A young blonde-haired flapper dame lay naked on the bed, legs spread out, hands gripping the white sheets. She arched her back and moaned in ecstasy. Lying on top of her, was none other than his father, his penis going in and out of her with deep thrusts. Alastor could not hold back a shaken breath.

The moaning stopped. Louis' cock slipped out in a wet mess. With a crack of his neck, he turned toward his son.

It was like staring into the eyes of the Devil himself, pure dark eyes, full of anger and malice. The woman, stared confused.

He gave her a look that said, "I'll be right back."

He bellowed, "Alastor!"

The boy ran for his life. He heard the stomping of feet rapidly approach. He dashed into his room, trying to close the door, but thick white hands pried it open. Louis towered over him like a wild hairless ape with a black mustache and a frazzled mop of black hair. He locked the door and grabbed Alastor by his shirt collar.

"Clothes off," he demanded.

His teeth chattered.

"Are you deaf, boy? Now!"

With shaking hands, Alastor removed his shirt and pants and finally his undergarments.

Louis nodded and retrieved something long and black from a hook up above.

The boy's eyes grew wide. "Papa, no, no, please!"

"I've always known there was somethin' wrong with you," he stated. "Daily blasphemy against God, clumsy at sports, doesn't bat an eye at any girls."

The whip made impact against his light brown back, legs, and chest. He cried out at every painful sting.

"I always have to teach you a lesson every other day it seems. But to rudely intrude on me and my girl's privacy..."

Magic didn't spark to life from his hands, no matter how hard he tried.

Tears flowed down his face as rough hands grasped mercilessly at his frail body.

"I deserve this punishment! Say it," Louis demanded.

"I...d...deserve this punishment..." the boy stuttered.

"Again!"

Alastor repeated it in a frantic yell, anxious to get the torture over with. Where was his mother?!

Loretta was humming as she washed a pot, then suddenly heard some muffled yells from upstairs. She was wearing a dress of red and purple.

"Now what in da names of Heaven and Hell is goin' on up there?" she asked.

She turned off the water and walked up the stairs. The commotion and fighting grew louder. It appeared to be coming from Alastor's room. She peered into the master bedroom and saw a random blonde woman, waiting in bed. The two women gasped, then stared each other down.