We all want better for our children. We don’t want them to go through what we went through but they will go through something. In this life we will all be tested and our test are often very different. The first generation’s test may have been survival of poverty while their offspring may struggle with the riches they’ve been Blessed with. We can educate, provide for and emotionally support our children but we can’t protect them from life. We all have our own tests to pass.
On the verge of greatness. Just a few steps away from reaching that ultimate goal. You hear success calling then harkening in the distance. She wants to be with you. The only thing stopping her from being with you is you. Those last few steps you haven’t taken yet are quite possibly the most enjoyable part of this long difficult journey you’ve been on. Your star is ready, she’s shining just for you. Take your rightful place, the fruits of you labor await you.
Our bodies are our temples and we should treat them as such but remember they are just the housing for our souls. Some of us become obsessed with our housings and lose sight of what is the most valuable part of us, our souls. Vain human, you will leave this housing behind and it will turn back to dust when your time here is done but your soul will live on forever. It’s great to be in great shape but our bodies will never be the most important part of us. God saves souls, not just bodies.
Never blindly follow a leader with no vision; for the blind leading the blind leaves everyone behind. If the man in charge has no direction, why are you not breaking free to discover you own path and direction. Followers following followers leads to aimless wandering. Take the lead, find your purpose give the people a true leader to follow.
Her pain is your pain, two hearts beating as one; you’re one and the same. When they say love hurts this is what they’re speaking of. The one you love so is ill or in pain and you can to do nothing to alleviate it. Relegated to the role of a nursemaid; for your love for her is strong but you’re no savior. You pray to the healer, our Lord and Savior that he may show her mercy and grace. You wait. Gently you stroke her hand attempting to be as comforting as you can. Suddenly it breaks. That sickness is removed from her body or at least the symptoms go into remission. The sun of your love’s universe is shining bright once again. On your knees you thank the God for your heart has been healed along with her body. Because… her pain is your pain; when they say love hurts this is what they’re speaking of.
Non believer, I love you and respect your right to not believe. Why is it so important to you that I not express my love for my God? We have allowed this society to eliminate God from every walk of life. It seems that if you celebrate your faith, you come under attack. Jesus gives me freedom of choice and loves you the same as he loves me. My God wants you to chose him but will not force you to; so why are you trying to force me not to?
Dennis tried to follow the investigation into Joe’s murder but found information difficult to come by. There was nothing on the evening news, no article in the local newspapers, no mention on the radio or internet. It would seem as though it never happened. It was just another example of how undesirables were treated by the law. These things Dennis despised but would now use to his advantage. The same law enforcement that was listless in its investigation of the murders of three young boys was again showing minimal effort in another unsolved homicide.
In the weeks that followed Joe’s demise Dennis started living life as he always intended. He ate, slept, taught, made love and laughed. His new attitude did not go unnoticed by his grateful spouse.
“Jennifer, I can’t believe the change in Dennis. He is like a new man. I had him visit a therapist to kind of air things out about these nightmares he was having. It must have done the trick because he’s been sleeping, we’ve been going out and he’s a tiger in the bedroom again.”
The sisters shared a laugh, Sarah continued on.
“I don’t know what it is but I just hope it continues. Maybe I’ll finally have that baby mom’s always bugging me about. Even if I don’t, I’m going to have fun trying.”
Jennifer laughed with her younger sister once more before they said their goodbyes and hung up. Little did Sarah know, Dennis had more work to do. He would be this “fun Dennis” for quite some time to come. Kristopher and Chauncey would be avenged just as Treyvone was. Dennis now felt duty bound not only to the victims but also to himself to rid the world of these scum. It would seem that there would be more whispering in Dennis’ wonderland.
Coach Finedusky taught and coached children for over forty years. He had been molesting his students and players for the past thirty. All the trust and respect garnered from his position and his teams stellar records were used as currency to purchase his victims. Ashamed, guilty, embarrassed, sub-human, feelings silenced his victims. Who would believe a poor little kid over the prestigious Coach Finedusky? Many a damaged, wounded boy grew into a dysfunctional adult because of the horrors committed against them.
Only the weakest, most eager to please was chosen to receive coach’s special attention. Finedusky had always viewed himself as a good judge of character; he knew how to pick ’em. He came across a thin dark skinned boy name Chauncey that held ideas of becoming a great basketball player. Anxious was the lad to have private basketball lessons with the larger than life coach of his older cousins’ AAU team. Put up a fight Chauncey did when Coach got a little tricky with him. A struggle ensued and threats were made by the boy to tell his thug uncles. Finedusky didn’t want those problems so he instead chose to snuff the little boy’s life out. Strangled and smothered was young Chauncey until his little lungs held breath no more; the cowardly fifty-five year old lay on the boy’s chest with all his weight crushing his ribcage. Right hand around a thin windpipe, left forearm pressed down on a gym towel that was covering Chauncey’s mouth. Chauncey’s soul traveled home before his limp body cooled. Still warm was lifeless Chauncey, still aroused was Finedusky. The boy’s dead body was violated then dumped never to be identified once found. Finedusky being the last to see the boy should have been the primary suspect but very few questions were asked of or answered by the great coach. Chauncey became just another missing Black kid that no one gave a second thought to. No Amber alert or massive man hunt, just a few flyers and his mama crying on the eleven o’clock news. The case quickly turned cold and coach continued on living his life of depravity. Dennis heard rumors about what happened to the boy from very credible sources. As years passed more evidence came to light but not much action was taken. Dennis was now prepared to take that action.
Unfortunately for Dennis the coach’s notoriety would ensure that there would be a thorough investigation if Finedusky were to be murdered or come up missing. Dennis figured that he might have to make it look like an accident. Finedusky was old, not in the greatest health due to his alcoholism and on several medications that could cause drowsiness. He loved to visit his local watering hole; Finedusky stayed thirsty. Dennis figured he’d join coach in a few drinks one day and chat him up a little. Finedusky could never pass up a free drink.
“This seat taken Coach?”
Finedusky looked Dennis over then offered the seat to him.
“Naw, the seat’s all yours. Do we know each other friend?”
“Well coach everyone in this town knows you; you’re a legend. Dan Jennings, class of ‘99”
Dennis extended his hand and the coach shook it with a firm grip.
“I’ve seen many a game you’ve coached, we always wondered why you didn’t leave us. You know, we always thought that you would move on to bigger and better things. It took me some time but now I understand; it’s your dedication to this community. Men like you don’t do it for the fame or the money. You do it to make a difference! And I thank you for it. Bartender can I have two of what Coach is drinking here?”
When the bartender came back with two glasses of Wild Turkey and Coke Dennis called for a toast. Several other men joined in as Dennis flattered the old man after dosing him with GHB. The date rape drug took hold quick, Dennis ordered the third round then paid the check with cash. He had taken a cab to the bar because he knew that he wouldn’t be driving himself home. His car was stashed near where he would leave the pedophile. To the other patrons it seemed that coach had just had a few too many (as he often did) when Dennis carried him out, one of coach’s arms draped around his neck and his arm around the old man’s waist to steady him.
“I’ll drive the coach home so that he can sleep it off. You boys take it easy; don’t do nothing I wouldn’t do.”
A few of the guys chuckled as the door closed behind Dennis and his new friend. Dennis placed Finedusky behind the wheel; propped a stick on the gas pedal and stirred from the passenger seat. Dennis pushed the gas peddle hard with the stick, the car accelerated and Dennis steered carefully. A mile from where Dennis had his car parked there was a wicked curve above a huge body of water. As they approached he whispered in the ear of the evil doer.
“How ya feeling coach? Feeling no pain huh? Just you wait a few minutes. Why do you do it, rape little boys? It’s easy as taking candy from a baby right. I’m sure usually they don’t put up much of a fight do they? But one did though right, didn’t he you old sick fuck. Chauncey is dead and he will be avenged. I would like to say you’re going to join him but young Chauncey is in Heaven with our Father. But you’re going to hell to spend eternity with the master you serve. You sick son of a…”
Dennis couldn’t finish his sentence, rage took over as he punched and slashed at the old man’s face with his pocket knife. The drugs and alcohol were beginning to wear off as Finedusky screamed in pain from his beating and stabbing. Before he could say anything coherent, Dennis snatched the wheel to the right and dove from the car after snatching up his acceleration stick. The car smashed through the guard rail and plummeted into the cool waters below. As Dennis came out of his roll and stood up he could hear the old man screaming once the car got airborne then fell rapidly. The large lake held many gators and to remove more evidence Dennis figured he’d put the gators to work. The short jog was made to his car and he drove pack to the scene of the accident where he poured a bucket of blood into the water surrounding the wrecked car.
Finedusky certainly couldn’t have survived the fall in his condition but police didn’t need to see fresh knife wounds and bruises on his old face when they recovered the body. There wouldn’t be much to find. Two-fifteen Am and not a car in sight. Dennis headed home a little scraped up but relaxed and in the mood to pleasure the wife. Pleasured well Sarah was, longer and stronger than ever before.
A day later Dennis sat proudly watching the evening news; reminiscing on the events of the night before. Finedusky thought it to be just another night of reveling but instead it became a night of destiny. He was always destined to pay for his crimes; unknown to him that it would be in the form of a most violent death.
“Whatcha watchin’ Hun?”
“Oh just watching the news. Sad thing, local legendary basketball coach Finedusky drove off the road and into a lake.”
“Oh that’s awful. Was he drinking?”
“Apparently he was on his way home from his favorite bar.”
“What a shame, I’ll pray for his family.”
“Pray for his victims.”
Dennis thought to himself as he rose from his seat and embraced his wife. A gentle kiss was placed on her lips and then her slight buttocks grabbed firmly as she was pulled to him. More passionate kissing and heavy petting ensued. Dennis wondered silently to himself about his new found sexual prowess and its connection to the “work” he was doing as he carried his wife to their marital bed. Strong love was made, Mrs. Reynolds found slumber, Mr. Reynolds took to the shower. His wheels were once again turning, plotting the third part of his mission while monitoring the progress of the investigation into what he had already accomplished.
For days Dennis watched every report and read every article about the death of the Great Coach Finedusky. The patrons at the bar spoke of another gentleman who may have left with the coach but in the same breath they spoke of a stubborn old man who wouldn’t listen to anyone. The authorities assumed that the old man refused a ride home and drove himself over an embankment and into the lake below. That was the only conclusion that made any sense. Surely the other man didn’t drug him then drive him over the side while diving out of a moving vehicle. The case was quickly closed and officially reported as an accident.
When a young Kristopher Shumphert went missing from Pine Hills Elementary there was an outcry from the community to find the lost boy. An article appeared in the back page of the local newspaper, it was run only one day. A few concerned citizens put together search parties but their efforts yielded nothing, not even a clue. There was no Amber Alert put out for the boy thus the case went cold in less than a month. To Dennis the case never went cold, he never forgot the little boy with kind eyes behind thick glasses. Kristopher oldest of three siblings was an inquisitive athletic young boy full of promise. Many a prayer said and tear shed by his loving single mother over the disappearance of her special little lad.
Dennis started his own investigation and even tried to share information with the police. His insights fell on death ears. The police were on to the next case or simply passed him on to the next officer who was just as unwilling to assist him or even hear him out. Every employee of the school’s background was looked into by Dennis before he started investigating parents and locals. Something didn’t sit right with Dennis about one man in particular a janitor named Bob Robinson.
Bob Robinson seemed to have been employed at several elementary schools across the country were apparently children had gone missing. The majority of them were inner city schools with mostly underprivileged students. When children with parents who have less money, education and social standing go missing there is less attention paid. No one loses much sleep or gives much attention. Bob Robinson knew and prayed upon this. A professional janitor you might call him since he had been employed as one for over twenty-five years. There was no better place for a pedophile to spend his days than around an abundance of prey. The more Dennis investigated, the more he learned about his new target. Mr. Bob Robinson was not only a pedophile but potentially a serial killer as well. Dennis just couldn’t understand how he could so easily obtain information on the primary suspect of this heinous crime but law enforcement couldn’t find the first clue. The conclusion was made in Dennis’ mind that young Kristopher had died in a most horrible way at the hands of this sadistic old man. Again, the boy would be avenged.
The janitor’s closet was a dark dank place full of chemicals and abuse. Outside the door lay a thick maroon rug that sometimes got caught in the door causing it not to close fully. Dennis knew this and actually used adhesive to position the rug so that it would leave the door partially ajar every time it was closed. Dennis on his day off was on school grounds and stalking his prey. On this day once again Bob was himself preying, preying upon a kindergartener whom he’d lured into his lair of debauchery. Behind himself and the little boy he closed the door then readied himself to do his little dirty business. As soon as the door was closed Dennis removed his ski mask from his backpack and slid it over his head. As the bell rang for class and the hallways emptied Dennis abruptly pushed his way into the spacious double door closet. In his hand he held a homemade weapon consisting of a metal pipe wrapped in duck tape. Bob stood with his hand on the boy’s shoulder pushing him to his knees. Exposed and erect was Bob’s genitalia anxious to destroy yet another young life. Upon seeing the masked man wielding a weapon Bob lost his concentration. Before he could utter a syllable his testicle were beaten with the pipe. Dennis struck the evil man between his legs with an uppercut motion then ordered the young boy out of the room. He pulled the rug from the door allowing it to shut flush. Bob lay on the ground in the fetal position with his hands between his legs cursing and writhing in pain.
“Son of a bitch! What the hell are you doing?”
Dennis quickly retorted.
“What the hell are you doing?! What kind of hell have you been bringing into the lives of all of these children you’ve raped and murdered? I’m here to make things right Bobby and that’s exactly what I am going to do!”
With that being said Dennis beat the man in his knee caps with his metal pipe. Before the screaming got too loud Dennis soaked a rag with ammonia and shoved it into the man’s mouth then taped it shut as he beat Bob around the head and neck. The dull dingy room was suddenly brightened up with splatters of color on the walls, ceiling and floor. The remainder of the bottle on ammonia he poured into a metal bucket as he kneeled down next to Bob so that he could whisper in his ear.
“Today in your demise you will feel the pain you’ve inflicted upon so many families. Today I am your judge, jury and executioner and I must tell you; I take great pride in my work. Enjoy hell my sick demented little friend.”
Bob was almost about to pass out so Dennis snatched the duck tape and rag from his mouth then crushed both his ankle bones with his trusty pipe. The man let out a slight yelp as he tried to catch his breath. Bob’s shallow breathing turned heavy as Dennis poured bleach into the bucket of ammonia sending toxic fumes billowing from the bucket up into the air. All over the room Dennis scattered articles, notes and pictures of Bob’s past alleged crimes. He didn’t want this man to receive sympathy from anyone who may find his corpse. Dennis smiled as he took off his gloves and mask then eased from the room with his back pack over his shoulder. Bob lay in the smoke filled room lungs and eyes burning as he gasped his last few breaths unable to walk or even crawl to freedom. Dennis exited the building to the bright daylight of the Florida afternoon refreshed and relieved his job was done. Into his luxury coup he climbed and drove off back to his lovely home in Windermere. Several minutes later the toxic fumes would be discovered and the school evacuated. Eventually Bob’s body was found and an investigation into his death ensued. Not only did the authorities investigate the murder of Bob Robinson but also the materials they found in his tomb of sorts. Once they realized that they were dealing with a murdered pedophile who had been preying on and maybe even murdering children for decades the investigation cooled. A vigilante it would seem was behind this but instead of pursuing the offender the police were more inclined to give him a metal and a key to the city.
Later that night again Mrs. Reynolds got her world rocked and Dennis slept like a baby. Repent he did for his sins being a “Good Christian” but shamefully Dennis felt so justified in his actions that he half heartedly asked for God’s forgiveness. Nonetheless being a believer and lover of Christ, he was forgiven and given a new purpose. Dennis opened a grief center that specialized in the investigation of abuse of all types. He worked hand in hand with law enforcement never again crossing the line into vigilantism. Eventually the Reynolds were blessed with their own child and Dennis continued to work tirelessly as an advocate for the victims of the world giving his life a higher purpose. His victims still burn in hell, this day and forever.
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Whispers in Wonderland
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Writings of Rascoe 