Memories (Of Dreams and Demons)

A Backyard Haven

Time slows as my heartbeat races, the edges of his pupils about to read my presence.

I slam against the back wooden wall of the cubby house, panting heavily. I just make it. Out of sight of the dark man, the ominous sense of dread following me vanishes.

There are other children here playing, avoiding the scrutiny of our guardian as best they can. Snotty, a particularly short brat with a face full of freckles and short-cropped hair, immediately turns his attention on me.

"Hey," Snotty snaps, "shouldn't you be inside?"

Shaking my head, I try to catch my breath, leaning casually against the wall as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Unconvinced, Snotty marches towards me, flanked by two taller kids ready to do his bidding, like lapdogs following their master.

"Liar," he sneers inches from my face, "you don't play outside, loser."

The unnamed lapdog to his left chuckles.

"There aren't any books out here," the lapdog snickers.

Snotty laughs as he shoves me. I almost lose my footing, but instead bang against the cubby house wall behind me.

"That's right," he jokes, "you can't be a nerd out here!"

"You're just a big loser," his other companion echoes.

"Get lost," I mumble, "don't you have better things to do?"

"What did you say to me?" Snotty spits.

"Go away," I wince, knowing I cannot escape this escalation. I can't run from this spot. I can't afford to be caught.

Snotty grabs my shirt hastily, scrunching it up and ripping away the top button in the process.

"Don't tell me to get lost, loser," he warns as the lapdog on his right grabs my neck.

I'm badly pinned against the wall, unable to retaliate. The third boy rustles through my pockets.

When done, unhappy at finding no treats, he starts jabbing me sharply in the side, his fingers needles feeding off my discomfort.

Snotty laughs at my attempts to squirm away, or perhaps at the tears I can feel welling in my eyes. My face goes red with embarrassment and helplessness. With Snotty, this is a ritual I have to suffer through on a daily basis.

"What have we here?" Snotty begins, reaching for the map I still hold in my left hand.

Never. Again, an aged, unknown voice roars in my mind. For a moment, blackness swirls through the sky around me. My fingers twitch for a solution that does not come.

The backyard feels smaller, insignificant. The boys bullying me, insects about to be stomped out of existence. The dark man patrolling the yard, a nuisance to be dealt with immediately.

Lost for a moment in an unknown place, I don't hear the bullies laughing louder at the tears streaming down my face. My senses reel. Where am I? Who am I?

The only answer to my thoughts is a rock buzzing right before my face and thudding squarely into Snotty's right cheek.

Outright shock is replaced by pain as the jarring impact becomes that bitter, stinging sensation of broken skin and bruised bone.

Snotty immediately lets go of me to run inside the house, probably to hide before anyone catches him crying too. His two lapdogs jump back, unsure of what to do now their master is gone.