Silence is Golden

Teacher's Pet

Silence is Golden

I was quite an ordinary guy in the beginning. Maybe I read a bit more than most my age and I never was really into sports but I really was no different than anyone else.

My name is Peter Sands and I’m eighteen years old. I was supposed to enter college this fall. Ha! What a laugh. What I wanted from life seemed pretty simple. I wasn’t overly ambitious; I didn’t expect fame and fortune. I just wanted to do the whole college thing and have a good life. You know, find a decent job, settle down with a nice girl, raise a few rugrats. A pretty ordinary life all in all. And all that, my whole future, was wiped out in just a few seconds.

I’ve always felt extremely bad when I read accounts of people who were killed or crippled – things like that – and it was something that could have been prevented had circumstances differed. For instance, perhaps they made plans to go somewhere but changed their minds and stayed home. Then a plane crashes into their house or it blows up from a gas explosion. Okay, I agree – a rare occurrence but you get what I mean. Fate, destiny – whatever you wanna call it taking over and shit happens. You can’t control it and you can’t foresee it. If only you could. They say hindsight is 20/20. I never understood that until now because it is something that keeps going through my head. Those “if onlys” that won’t quit.

See, a couple of the guys had dropped by to see if I wanted to go do something Saturday but I was feeling kinda down that day so I said no. Sarah and I had just broken up, my boss said he had to cut back on my hours at work (like I can afford that) and my car was going to need some major bucks put into it. Too much crap to handle in one day so I said no and they went off without me.

If only I had gone! How different things would be. I would starting to get my stuff ready for college, hunting down some cheap parts for my car, hanging out with the guys and just doing the normal stuff. I didn’t know how much everyday life could mean. I would even gladly take the crap parts right now because they seem unimportant nowadays.

Well, anyway, I went for a walk later that morning after the guys had left. It was the end of May and really warm out. Graduation was close and I was starting to think about college and leaving my friends and family behind. The college I had chosen was in another state and I had never really been away from home before so it was a little scary. My parents and sibs (younger brother and sister) got on my nerves a lot but I knew I was really gonna miss them. So I needed time to think about that and all the bad crap I was dealing with lately. Sometimes life really seems to be coming at you pretty fast and harsh.

We live on the edge of town where there is a lot of empty space and trees. I noticed it was clouding up a bit and was not only hot but getting muggy. I remember wondering if it was going to rain as I left our neighborhood and headed out. I headed for the big park nearby but decided to keep going out to a more deserted area as so many people were out on such a fine day.

I sat down under a big birch tree and, leaning my head back, I watched the sun play hide and seek with the clouds. I guess I just drifted off to sleep because, when I opened my eyes it was dark and drops of rain were falling through the leaves of the tree. I slowly got to my feet and stretched while thinking I had better head for home soon because the storm seemed like it was getting worse by the minute. I could see lightening now and, judging from the time between the bright flashes and the loud roar of thunder, it was getting closer.

I had started walking when I heard a sharp crackling noise and saw a finger of light reaching towards me. Then I was falling into a dark void of unconsciousness…

The next thing I knew a brilliant light was shining in my eyes. I opened them to see the sun and tried to recall what had happened and where I was. Slowly it came back to me and I jerked up quickly from where I was lying prone on the ground. A dull pain filled my head and a moan escaped my lips as I fell back to the ground. I stayed there for awhile in a daze as I looked around me. Several trees surrounding me had been uprooted and the ground was all black. It was inconceivable to me that I could have come so close to being hit by lightening and still be alive.

By my watch I saw that it was now late afternoon. I had been unconscious for several hours and by now my parents would be getting worried. I knew they would be wondering if I had been out in the storm. It couldn’t have lasted long for now the grass was almost dry and there were only a few small clouds left in the sky.

I was about to start home to relate my incredible experience to my family when a piercing scream shattered the air. I jerked around in the direction from which it was coming but could see nothing. I thought I had better find out what it was in case someone was hurt and needed help. That Boy Scout first aid training might come in handy yet.

As I drew closer to the park, I heard the sound of children’s voices laughing and shouting and then the scream again. I became angry believing that perhaps kids were torturing some poor animal. I had heard wild animals caught by others make the same horrible noise.

I began running towards the noise and twice more the cry rang out. However, I began to think that it sounded more like two people or animals screaming simultaneously. What was going on?

I rounded a clump of trees and, looking down from the top of a small knoll, my eyes widened in disbelief. Instead of the cruel leers and bloody animal I expected to find, I simply saw a peaceful game of sandlot baseball. Then I heard the screams again. They seemed to be coming from the batter but, as the ball whizzed over the field, the sound followed it. I watched as the boy ran to second base and another batter came up. Again the ball was pitched and the boy swung the bat. At the exact moment of contact of the bat with the ball, two shrieks once more pierced the air. And once again the higher pitched screaming followed the ball while the other cry died out where the bat lay thrown down by the youth as he ran to first base.

I slowly made my way down the hill, puzzled by what I was seeing and hearing. I thought that they must have special electronic equipment that made the noises. I hadn’t known anything like that existed so I decided to check it out. Reaching the field, I walked up to the group waiting to go to bat.

“Hi, kids,” I said. “What kind of bats and balls are you using there?”

They looked at me curiously and one ventured an answer, “Just the standard.”

“But that noise I heard,” I said. “Must be electronic, huh? To make that noise like that? Kinda weird!”

The boys stared at me and a couple even backed away. They looked puzzled and even a little nervous.

“Ummm, they aren’t making any noises, dude. What’s the matter with you?” replied the same boy who had spoken before.

“Can’t you hear it?” I asked in astonishment. “Every time you hit the ball with the bat they both make a noise like they’re screaming. You must have heard it!”

“Listen, dude. I don’t know what you’re smoking but the only noise they make is when we crack them a good one. Now beat it, you druggie!” and they pulled closer together glaring at me.

Bewildered, I looked from one face to another. They truly didn’t have any idea what I was talking about. I backed away and then turned and moved swiftly to the street. I reached it and, without looking back, I kept walking. I knew that, if I turned around, I would see the boys still standing there staring after me.

Hurrying along, I became aware of another strange phenomena. Every time I took a step a strange noise accompanied it. I slowed down and cautiously put my foot down. The pavement made a noise! It sounded most definitely like the street was saying, “Oh!”

I decided to keep walking but every time I put my foot down the pavement weakly protested. Frightened, I began to run, but that was even worse!

Stomp. OH! Stomp. OH! Stomp. OH!

“My God!” I thought. “I’m cracking up!”

Holding my hands over my ears, I ran as fast as I could. Soon my house was in view and, gasping with relief, I yanked open the door. A low moan emerged from the wood and I pulled my hand back as if it had touched hot coals. When the door slammed, it emitted a cry filled with pain. It was then that it hit me: I could hear inanimate objects! I reached out once more and gently opened it. This time only a soft sigh could be heard. I stepped into the house and shut the door just as quietly as I had opened it.

Walking through the kitchen I called out, “Mom? Are you here?”

“Peter! Oh, Peter, where were you? Do you know how late it is? I was getting worried what with the storm and all. Did you find a place to wait it out? Well, of course you must have! Why didn’t you call?” my mother said without waiting for answers. Then, “Peter! You’re as white as a ghost!” I couldn’t tell her that the floor had just shrieked as she came scurrying towards me.

I didn’t know what was going on even though I thought I had an explanation. I reasoned that it must have been that freak accident with the lightening. What could I tell my mother, though? That her son was cracking up and could hear the floor crying? So I just told her I had had a little accident and quickly related the lightening incident making it sound as if the a nearby tree had been struck rather than me.

She got all flustered, as I knew she would, and of course insisted I go right to bed while she called the doctor. I told her I was just fine and she did not need to call the doctor but she insisted. I agreed just to make her feel better and walked upstairs to my room. By now I was getting as used to the noise the floors made as I could possibly be with that sort of thing and I also made sure to close my door gently again. I wasn’t, however, prepared for the shrill scream the bed made when I sat down heavily upon it. I jumped up in a panic but, when I realized what it was, I calmed down. My hands shook, though, as I drew on my pajamas while they cried softly.

“Easy now,” I muttered as I let myself down on the bed again. I laughed a little with a hint of hysteria as I wondered whether I had meant that for me or for the bed. Both, I decided and closed my eyes.

You’ll never know what agony it is to try to sleep on a bed that way. I would start to drift off and then would turn and draw the blankets up. The protests the bed, pillow and blankets all made would immediately wake me up again. Frustration made me feel like crying because I was so exhausted from my ordeal.

My mother came up a little later and told me the doctor thought it would be a good idea for me to be seen. That trip, in a nutshell, was sheer agony. Getting dressed, walking on the floor, opening doors and every other action all caused noises you normally only hear in a slasher film.

I decided on the way over to the office to level with the doctor in case there was a medical explanation. Kind of a ringing in the ear sorta thing maybe.

I’ll bypass all the medical jargon he gave me and summarize it by saying it was aftereffect which gave me the auditory equivalent of hallucinations. I was to see him if the hearing problem didn’t clear up within the week.

Well, I could drag this out but I am sure it would prove boring. It only takes a quick rundown to cover the last three months.

The noises continued and grew worse and worse. I went back to the doctor but he really didn’t know what to do and suggested perhaps a good friend of his, Dr. Stoane, could help me. Stoane happens to be a psychiatrist so I put that off for awhile until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I guess I felt that going to a shrink automatically made me a nut case. Common perception but my need overcame my prejudices.

I went to see him and he really did try everything from psychotherapy to meds to hypnosis. Nothing helped, though, and more specialists were called in.

I felt kind of guilty, I guess, as my parents aren’t rich by any means and it must have been tough on Dad shelling out all that dough for things the insurance didn’t cover like copays and deductibles. He and Mom never complained, though, and I have done my best to show them that I appreciated everything even though none of it helped. No, not one of the doctors helped make the slightest improvement. I didn’t have hearing problems, I didn’t have a brain tumor, I wasn’t nuts – there just were no answers.

And the sounds kept getting louder and louder as time passed until I could hear the whole house crying, the whole city moaning and, then, the entire world, no, universe, screaming.

That brings me to the present. I haven’t gotten enough sleep in who knows how long. Last time I looked in the mirror I couldn’t believe it was me. My eyes are all surrounded by heavy dark shadows and I’ve lost so much weight that I look like a starvation victim. Who the hell can eat when the fork shrieks if you bite down on it?

I’m scared, too. I can’t go on like this. Old friends, doctors and even my parents and the sibs all look at me strangely now. They figure it is psychological since nothing physical shows up. My parents, especially, are so quiet around me that I know they think I am totally nuts. I also know Dr. Stoane has mentioned committing me. They have even dropped some hints in the past few days about some “nice quiet place where you can rest and take it easy for awhile.”

My God! I couldn’t take it! I’m only eighteen years old and I don’t want to spend fifty years in a crazy house! But I can’t stand the noise either. I only wish for quiet once more. I can’t even remember what silence is like anymore.

I know what I have to do. Unless I do it I really will go crazy. After all, what is worse: death or a living hell?

My dad always keeps a gun in a box in their closet. I took it out yesterday when everyone was busy. Everyone is going out tonight. My mom doesn’t think she should leave me alone but I told her that I really do feel better and think maybe the new med Stoane gave me might be working. I also said that maybe it would be a good idea to go someplace where I can get some peace and quiet. You see, I can be quite convincing when I put my mind to it. She decided that it might not hurt to go out for just a couple of hours.

Later tonight, when they are gone and I am done writing this and a few notes to family and friends, I will take the gun out of its hiding place. I will read this over one more time and wonder if whoever reads it will believe my story of take it for that of a madman. But maybe some poor devil will read it who has had the same freak misfortune fall on him. At least the fact that he is not alone might help. I know, if only someone understood and believed me, it would help so much. It would give me renewed hope and maybe it wouldn’t have to end this way. But they don’t and so, after reading my account, I will lay it down and take up the gun. I will raise it to my head and I will heard a low moan escape from it as I begin to squeeze the trigger. The last thing I will hear is the panic-stricken shriek of the bullet as it pierces my flesh.

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Teacher’s Pet

For the fourth day in a row, Alan tried to engage Samantha in an after-school discussion. He tried all the usual questions: how was school today? Was that boy in math class still picking his nose? How did she do on the science quiz? But Samantha just shrugged and quietly went to her room. No after-school hug for ol’ Dad, no after-school snacks, no after-school giggly phone calls to her girlfriends.

Two years of single parenting a school age child had taught Alan fast. The red flag was up and waving: something was wrong. Not only was his little girl uncharacteristically uncommunicative but she was also terribly pale and wan. Her normally rosy cheeks had been replaced with a white, waxy look. Dark circles appeared, not just below her eyes but completely around them. Normally she spent what seemed to be hours on her thick, curly hair. In place of the gleaming brown curtain were stringy, greasy uncombed tendrils.

Now came the tricky part – how to extract the necessary information from an unwilling adolescent female.

A couple of quick phone conversations over lunch hour at work with friends who were also parents, some more advice from co-workers hastily given during a coffee break, and a perusal of the latest parenting magazines gave him the confidence to approach the subject the next day.

Carefully using the suggested non-threatening, non-demanding tone of voice and choice of words, Alan pointed out to Samantha that he had noticed her change in attitude and understood the message that something was wrong. Speaking slowly so he wouldn’t screw up this all-important moment and alienate her from the conversation, he indicated that he was getting the feeling that the problem had to do with school. However, if he was wrong and the problem was a home-based situation, he wanted to understand so he could work with Samantha and solve this problem together.

When he finished his spiel he sat back very pleased with himself. Approaching this armed with plenty of forewarning and advice had definitely been the right way to go. Now, if Samantha would just react the way she was supposed to . . .

But, no, of course not. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy! Taking one quick, frantic look in his general direction she leaped off her chair, burst into tears and went flying down the hallway to her bedroom where the door was slammed and . . . wait . . . yes, locked. It took him almost an hour sans advice and reading material to convince her to open it again and talk to him.

Twenty minutes later he emerged pale and distraught. Samantha had delivered a tale of molestation of some kind. Granted she was incoherent enough to make understanding what was happening at the school difficult, but he was confident that he had a clear picture of the situation. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to hear male teachers’ names coupled with words and phrases like “better grades”, “not tell anyone”, “force”, and “suck” to put two and two together.

It took every bit of his willpower to keep calm while he phoned the neighbors to ask if Samantha could wait over there while he went over to the school. When she heard he was going to speak to the staff at the school she became agitated and frantically begged him not to do so. Because of her extreme distress she wasn’t making much sense with her words but Alan was sure she was afraid of repercussions stemming from her accusations. He attempted to reassure her and she calmed down although it seemed to be as much from exhaustion as a belief that he would handle things with no problem.

When that was done he called the school and left a message with the office secretary that he was coming over but needed to speak with Mr. Culaard, the principal, in reference to an urgent matter immediately. The secretary, used to fending off overexcited parents, seemed to comprehend that this request was different and patched him through to the principals’ line without argument.

Carefully choosing his words, Alan explained his concern about Samantha and how he had initiated a conversation to attempt to discover what was bothering her. Trying to phrase the problem in such a way that it would not be perceived as a verbal attack, he quickly briefed the principal. He ended with a request for an immediate meeting with the accused teachers and the principal. Mr. Culaard agreed that the matter needed to be dealt with right away and assured Alan that everyone would be there waiting for him.

He found he needed to apply the same effort to keep calm driving as he had talking. Although the school was just a short distance from their home he couldn’t get there fast enough to suit his mood. Although he tried not to think about it his mind was full of horrific pictures of his daughter with her male teachers being forced into unspeakable sexual acts. The anger raging through him made his hands shake and he gripped the steering wheel tightly as he guided the car down the road. Impatiently he honked his horn and then whipped out and around the slower vehicle. Finally he reached the large brick building and parked in front not bothering to see if it was a legal place for him to leave his car.

He bounded up the school steps taking two at a time and practically ran down the hall towards the principal’s office. Entering and slamming the door behind him he stood panting and shaking while the secretary looked up in surprise. Smiling calmly at him despite his obvious distress she explained that the Mr. Culaard and the two teachers in question were waiting to meet with him in the science classroom. Her friendly yet professional voice grated on his nerves as though he expected her to be as overpowered emotionally as he felt. He knew that was ridiculous, she couldn’t possibly be aware of the situation, so he did his best to answer in a voice calm and civil while he asked for directions to the room.

As he made his way back down the hall and up the stairs to the science classroom Alan used the time to take some deep breaths and attempted to compose himself. He knew using an aggressive approach would only foster hostility which would not help the situation at all. He wondered now if he should have contacted the police department instead of confronting the teachers. He was beginning to regret his hasty phone call and trip to the school. But, as long as he was here, he decided to go ahead with the meeting and, taking one last deep breath, reached out to open the door to the classroom….

Samantha sat alone in the darkening room not bothering to turn on any lights. Her father had left a message with the neighbors that he was on his way home after his meeting at the school and that she should go home, too.

The headlights from his car momentarily lit up the room and then she was left in the dark again as he switched them off. She sat watching the door listening as he slammed the car door and walked towards the house. There was his key in the lock and then he was entering the room. He reached out to flip a switch near the door and the small light near the entry came on.

“What are you doing sitting here in the dark, my dear?” he asked in a tone completely different than he had used when before he had left. The wild look in his eyes was now gone and he was even smiling as if nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. He slowly moved towards her still smiling.

“I had such a nice talk with your teachers and Mr. Culaard. We were able to get everything straightened out and I understand completely their side of the situation.”

Samantha just sat watching him not appearing at all surprised at his complete change in attitude. When he reached finally reached her and leaned down close to give her a quick hug her eyes dropped down to his neck. Just as she expected, there were two round neat holes pierced through the skin with a faint trickle of blood oozing down from each…..

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