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» The Dark
In a dark, dark house in a dark, dark wood...
But seriously, after reading QOTW for ages I think it's about time that I shared a true story with you about some very serious events which occurred in my younger years.
So, on to the story proper: I was abducted when I was 4 years old and kept in small dark room. (Seriously, this is not a Mad Cann joke).
When I was 4 my mum had met a new man (Tom) and after 18 months of a long distance relationship we had all (me Mum, me brother and me) upped sticks and relocated to an idyllic little town close to Newton Abbot in Cornwall. Things were great! Having moved from Blackburn up north, the change of scenery and warm weather were a god send: You could play out until really late because it didn’t get dark for ages, you could play out in your shorts and T-shirt from dawn until dusk without getting cold, the sea was nearby, playing fields and countryside were abundant. Because it was a small community in which everyone knew everyone else, all was nice, peaceful, normal and safe. Life was good for our little crew for a change and even at 4 years old I could tell that Mum was happier than she had been for a long time.
Anywho, while playing in the local vicinity me and my brother made friends with all the other kids in the area including the brother and sister team of Tom, aged 7 and little Susie aged 3 or 4yrs. These were nice kids and we enjoyed hanging out and doing the things that kids growing up in the countryside will do. We would sometimes go to their house and watch videos or play with their legos or in the paddling pool they had out back of the house. They would come to our house and sometimes my mum would make us toys from cleverly folded and cut newspapers.
Tom and Susie’s dad was a little man. One of those little men that can’t control his temper very well and is apt to over react at quite the smallest thing. Generally, he was noticeably tense and often displayed outward signs of a nervous internal battle of some kind or stress perhaps (he was a bit loco, really).
Tom and Susie’s mum was a trophy wife with enormous breasts, revealing clothes and hideous breath. The sort of woman who you could imagine being beaten by her husband for some percieved misdemeanor, but who would then side with her husband and turn on the police or any other good samaritan who might have come to her aid.
One day, Tom and Susie had been out with their parents to a car boot sale and returned in the afternoon with a particularly poor selection of second hand toys. I don’t remember what Tom received but Susie had one of those push-me-pull-you-ride-along-trolley affairs with wooden bricks with letters and numbers painted on them. By this time me and my brother were well in to Thundercats and pirates so weren’t really interested in their new toys and so brother disappears to play down the street with someone other kids and leaves me with . The next bit is a bit of a blur but after a while Toms dad is screaming bloody murder because something has happened to Susies new toy - Its broken.
It must be about 7 or 8pm now (this was years ago before the days of blatant scare mongering in the media so it was not unusual for us to be playing out this late especially in summer) and my brother comes to look for me because it’s time for tea. He can’t find me, I’m not with Tom and Susie (who have been ordered to bed for being naughty, I’m not over at James’ house and I’m not down the road with Simon and Martin.
That’s because I’m in a dark cupboard under the basement stairs deep below the house where Tom and Susie live.
In his infinite wisdom and total ineptitude my friend’s Father had coerced me in to the house and then begun screaming at his kids because of the damage to their brand new toys. I was only little and screaming adults really shit me up when I was a little boy so I stayed schtum. I remained quiet as he sent the little ones off to bed with no dinner and and asked me if I was scared of the dark... I wasn’t but I couldn’t answer anyway because I was too scared of this screaming madman. He grabbed me roughly by the neck and dragged me down stairs “where I could sit and think about owning up to this heinous crime” before my mum got here (I didn’t do it by the way, it was probably already broken).
So in to this cupboard I go to await my parents to come and pick me up and give me a good hiding (for fuckskates, I was even more scared of my mum than this look so I just sat there in the dark and waited for my mum to come round and kick my arse all the way home. And I waited. And waited. . .
Meanwhile back at the ranch, our tea is going cold and my mum us having a bit of a freak out over the disappearance of one of her offspring.
After a bit of calming down, Mum and Tom (step dad) are canvassing the neighbourhood looking for me because “he can’t have gone far...” (They didn’t call the police at this stage as in those days parents took responsibility for their children and usually looked in the usual hangouts and phoned friends etc before calling the fuzz anddumping responsibility on them filing a missing persons report). Brother Shaun is waiting at home in case I return of my own accord.
My stepdad checks at Tom and Susie’s first (last place I was seen) and “No Mr. M0rre, he hasn’t been here for more than an hour and a bit” says my kidnapper. (I actually hear this exchange but am too scared to call out fearing more trouble when I am finally caught).
They check the rest of our friend’s houses, then the swings, the park, the bottom of the long road where we lived (where we were expressly forbidden from going) and every other conceivable place they can think of. After a searching everywhere, twice, it’s almost time to call the police when one of our neighbours returns in his car and pipes up with:
“I’m sure that I saw Mr. Tom and Susie’s dad talking Aroe inside their house about dinner time, have you checked over there?”
Hmmmm, thinks mum (who is training to be a barrister at the time) and turns to confront my step-father... “I thought you had checked over there already – For fuckskates Tom (Step dad) what are you playing at?”
Tom replies with “I did and they told me.... Wait here”.
Mum: “No, you can get ta fuck – I’m going over there meself...” (Mum still had her strong northern accent then) So Mum trots over to the house in question and hammers on the door... My step dad is following closely behind.
Although I have scant memory of this next bit I have subsequently been filled in from my older brother, my stepdad, family members and my mum (less so my mum as she feels guilty ((she shouldn’t)) and doesn’t like to talk about it).
Mum: “Excuse me Mr. Tom & Susie’s Dad” but our good friend and neighbour has assured us that Aroe did not come home from your garden today but was seen entering your house less than 2 hours ago. With you. For the last time, is Aroe here?”
T&S DAD: “Do you know that I spent £100 today on toys for my kids and SOMEONE has broken them? I’m not made of money you know and I can’t be doing with. . . ).
Mum: “Broken what? What are you talking about? If my son is in your house, you will be in very serious trouble and I will ensure that....
T&S DAD: “Ensure what? Are you threatening me?”
My stepdad: “Mum, go home and wait for me there – I will be back shortly” (he doesn’t call my mum “mum” that would be weird, he calls her by her christian name but anyway, I’m not putting that down in writing here).
By this time I’m tired, hungry and really need a wee. The floor is cold and feels wet and my biggest fear, spiders, could be descending on me from above at any moment! A short time later I hear my name being called from upstairs and hey it’s my step dad Tom shouting out to me....
“Aroe, Aroe! Are you in there?”
I can tell I am not in trouble because if I was it would be mum calling my name and delivering the beats, not Tom.
“TOOOOOOOOOM! I’m down here!”
BANG BANG! “Get out of my AAARGH, FFFucccking let go of my arrrrrrgargle!”
Next thing I know the cupboard is unlocked and there’s Tom turning on the light!
Tom: Hello “Aroe, what are you doing down here, eh?”
Me: “Um, I dunno”
Tom: “You mean that you DON’T know – “dunno” is not a real word. Well never mind that, teas getting cold let’s get you home”.
And that’s it. We walk halfway back to our little house and there’s mum running down the path to greet us.
Mum: “Oh my god you found him!Where have you been?If you ever go anywhere ever again your in serious trouble melado!”
Tom: “I’m just off to have a quick word with Mr. Tom and Susies dad, back in a minute”.
And he was. Tom came back a while later all covered in blood and with a nasty set of bruises on his left hand. Mum put Toms blood stained shirt and jeans in the washing machine on a hot wash with lots of bleach and we sat down to have a nice meal of beef and red peppers with rice (or mash for me and my brother).
The police came around to question Tom about an apparent assault as we were finishing up our tea but they didn’t stay for long. They left after a quick chat with my parents and went over the road to talk to Tom and Susie’s mum about the welfare of her kids.
No one saw the evil man for a few days afterwards, the car didn’t move from the driveway and it looked like he wasn’t going to work anymore. He surfaced a few days later but wouldn’t hang around in the street for long. I remember he had a very lumpy face, was wearing sunglasses even though it was dark out. And his mouth was all funny looking like he was munching on cotton wool.
To my parent’s surprise, I wasn’t affected by the “ordeal” at all until many years later when my brother reminded me about it. I had very little memory of it but got the details from asking around and speaking to stepdad Tom. For a while I was tempted to go back and unleash an epic arse kicking of my own but found out that his wife had left him not long afterwards and he had suffered from alcoholism and depression so it just didn’t seem worth it.
Until we moved away to live in in London, I wasn’t scared of playing out and I still hung around with Tom & Susie whenever I wanted. Their dad never looked at me let alone spoke another word to me again.
Surprisingly I am not and was never afraid of the dark. Spiders still shit me up though.
The End.
(Please don’t feel sorry for me, I have always been fine with this and came to no harm whatsoever. Writing this has caused a tear or two but only for my dear Mum who I love very much. Over all it’s been very cathartic. Maybe next week I will write a story about losing someone you love in a car crash or something equally maudlin but until then, keep smiling people).
/Length.
/Line breaks
(Mon 27th Jul 2009, 17:38, More)
In a dark, dark house in a dark, dark wood...
But seriously, after reading QOTW for ages I think it's about time that I shared a true story with you about some very serious events which occurred in my younger years.
So, on to the story proper: I was abducted when I was 4 years old and kept in small dark room. (Seriously, this is not a Mad Cann joke).
When I was 4 my mum had met a new man (Tom) and after 18 months of a long distance relationship we had all (me Mum, me brother and me) upped sticks and relocated to an idyllic little town close to Newton Abbot in Cornwall. Things were great! Having moved from Blackburn up north, the change of scenery and warm weather were a god send: You could play out until really late because it didn’t get dark for ages, you could play out in your shorts and T-shirt from dawn until dusk without getting cold, the sea was nearby, playing fields and countryside were abundant. Because it was a small community in which everyone knew everyone else, all was nice, peaceful, normal and safe. Life was good for our little crew for a change and even at 4 years old I could tell that Mum was happier than she had been for a long time.
Anywho, while playing in the local vicinity me and my brother made friends with all the other kids in the area including the brother and sister team of Tom, aged 7 and little Susie aged 3 or 4yrs. These were nice kids and we enjoyed hanging out and doing the things that kids growing up in the countryside will do. We would sometimes go to their house and watch videos or play with their legos or in the paddling pool they had out back of the house. They would come to our house and sometimes my mum would make us toys from cleverly folded and cut newspapers.
Tom and Susie’s dad was a little man. One of those little men that can’t control his temper very well and is apt to over react at quite the smallest thing. Generally, he was noticeably tense and often displayed outward signs of a nervous internal battle of some kind or stress perhaps (he was a bit loco, really).
Tom and Susie’s mum was a trophy wife with enormous breasts, revealing clothes and hideous breath. The sort of woman who you could imagine being beaten by her husband for some percieved misdemeanor, but who would then side with her husband and turn on the police or any other good samaritan who might have come to her aid.
One day, Tom and Susie had been out with their parents to a car boot sale and returned in the afternoon with a particularly poor selection of second hand toys. I don’t remember what Tom received but Susie had one of those push-me-pull-you-ride-along-trolley affairs with wooden bricks with letters and numbers painted on them. By this time me and my brother were well in to Thundercats and pirates so weren’t really interested in their new toys and so brother disappears to play down the street with someone other kids and leaves me with . The next bit is a bit of a blur but after a while Toms dad is screaming bloody murder because something has happened to Susies new toy - Its broken.
It must be about 7 or 8pm now (this was years ago before the days of blatant scare mongering in the media so it was not unusual for us to be playing out this late especially in summer) and my brother comes to look for me because it’s time for tea. He can’t find me, I’m not with Tom and Susie (who have been ordered to bed for being naughty, I’m not over at James’ house and I’m not down the road with Simon and Martin.
That’s because I’m in a dark cupboard under the basement stairs deep below the house where Tom and Susie live.
In his infinite wisdom and total ineptitude my friend’s Father had coerced me in to the house and then begun screaming at his kids because of the damage to their brand new toys. I was only little and screaming adults really shit me up when I was a little boy so I stayed schtum. I remained quiet as he sent the little ones off to bed with no dinner and and asked me if I was scared of the dark... I wasn’t but I couldn’t answer anyway because I was too scared of this screaming madman. He grabbed me roughly by the neck and dragged me down stairs “where I could sit and think about owning up to this heinous crime” before my mum got here (I didn’t do it by the way, it was probably already broken).
So in to this cupboard I go to await my parents to come and pick me up and give me a good hiding (for fuckskates, I was even more scared of my mum than this look so I just sat there in the dark and waited for my mum to come round and kick my arse all the way home. And I waited. And waited. . .
Meanwhile back at the ranch, our tea is going cold and my mum us having a bit of a freak out over the disappearance of one of her offspring.
After a bit of calming down, Mum and Tom (step dad) are canvassing the neighbourhood looking for me because “he can’t have gone far...” (They didn’t call the police at this stage as in those days parents took responsibility for their children and usually looked in the usual hangouts and phoned friends etc before calling the fuzz and
My stepdad checks at Tom and Susie’s first (last place I was seen) and “No Mr. M0rre, he hasn’t been here for more than an hour and a bit” says my kidnapper. (I actually hear this exchange but am too scared to call out fearing more trouble when I am finally caught).
They check the rest of our friend’s houses, then the swings, the park, the bottom of the long road where we lived (where we were expressly forbidden from going) and every other conceivable place they can think of. After a searching everywhere, twice, it’s almost time to call the police when one of our neighbours returns in his car and pipes up with:
“I’m sure that I saw Mr. Tom and Susie’s dad talking Aroe inside their house about dinner time, have you checked over there?”
Hmmmm, thinks mum (who is training to be a barrister at the time) and turns to confront my step-father... “I thought you had checked over there already – For fuckskates Tom (Step dad) what are you playing at?”
Tom replies with “I did and they told me.... Wait here”.
Mum: “No, you can get ta fuck – I’m going over there meself...” (Mum still had her strong northern accent then) So Mum trots over to the house in question and hammers on the door... My step dad is following closely behind.
Although I have scant memory of this next bit I have subsequently been filled in from my older brother, my stepdad, family members and my mum (less so my mum as she feels guilty ((she shouldn’t)) and doesn’t like to talk about it).
Mum: “Excuse me Mr. Tom & Susie’s Dad” but our good friend and neighbour has assured us that Aroe did not come home from your garden today but was seen entering your house less than 2 hours ago. With you. For the last time, is Aroe here?”
T&S DAD: “Do you know that I spent £100 today on toys for my kids and SOMEONE has broken them? I’m not made of money you know and I can’t be doing with. . . ).
Mum: “Broken what? What are you talking about? If my son is in your house, you will be in very serious trouble and I will ensure that....
T&S DAD: “Ensure what? Are you threatening me?”
My stepdad: “Mum, go home and wait for me there – I will be back shortly” (he doesn’t call my mum “mum” that would be weird, he calls her by her christian name but anyway, I’m not putting that down in writing here).
By this time I’m tired, hungry and really need a wee. The floor is cold and feels wet and my biggest fear, spiders, could be descending on me from above at any moment! A short time later I hear my name being called from upstairs and hey it’s my step dad Tom shouting out to me....
“Aroe, Aroe! Are you in there?”
I can tell I am not in trouble because if I was it would be mum calling my name and delivering the beats, not Tom.
“TOOOOOOOOOM! I’m down here!”
BANG BANG! “Get out of my AAARGH, FFFucccking let go of my arrrrrrgargle!”
Next thing I know the cupboard is unlocked and there’s Tom turning on the light!
Tom: Hello “Aroe, what are you doing down here, eh?”
Me: “Um, I dunno”
Tom: “You mean that you DON’T know – “dunno” is not a real word. Well never mind that, teas getting cold let’s get you home”.
And that’s it. We walk halfway back to our little house and there’s mum running down the path to greet us.
Mum: “Oh my god you found him!Where have you been?If you ever go anywhere ever again your in serious trouble melado!”
Tom: “I’m just off to have a quick word with Mr. Tom and Susies dad, back in a minute”.
And he was. Tom came back a while later all covered in blood and with a nasty set of bruises on his left hand. Mum put Toms blood stained shirt and jeans in the washing machine on a hot wash with lots of bleach and we sat down to have a nice meal of beef and red peppers with rice (or mash for me and my brother).
The police came around to question Tom about an apparent assault as we were finishing up our tea but they didn’t stay for long. They left after a quick chat with my parents and went over the road to talk to Tom and Susie’s mum about the welfare of her kids.
No one saw the evil man for a few days afterwards, the car didn’t move from the driveway and it looked like he wasn’t going to work anymore. He surfaced a few days later but wouldn’t hang around in the street for long. I remember he had a very lumpy face, was wearing sunglasses even though it was dark out. And his mouth was all funny looking like he was munching on cotton wool.
To my parent’s surprise, I wasn’t affected by the “ordeal” at all until many years later when my brother reminded me about it. I had very little memory of it but got the details from asking around and speaking to stepdad Tom. For a while I was tempted to go back and unleash an epic arse kicking of my own but found out that his wife had left him not long afterwards and he had suffered from alcoholism and depression so it just didn’t seem worth it.
Until we moved away to live in in London, I wasn’t scared of playing out and I still hung around with Tom & Susie whenever I wanted. Their dad never looked at me let alone spoke another word to me again.
Surprisingly I am not and was never afraid of the dark. Spiders still shit me up though.
The End.
(Please don’t feel sorry for me, I have always been fine with this and came to no harm whatsoever. Writing this has caused a tear or two but only for my dear Mum who I love very much. Over all it’s been very cathartic. Maybe next week I will write a story about losing someone you love in a car crash or something equally maudlin but until then, keep smiling people).
/Length.
/Line breaks
(Mon 27th Jul 2009, 17:38, More)
» Body Mods
I met a scary Scotish bloke on a train to Preston once
Who was wearing a Rangers football shirt and drinking purple tinnies (Tennants Super).
I noticed that across the knuckles on his left hand he had the letters "G E R S" - I assumed that his other hand had "R A N" across the knuckles to spell Rangers...
Alas no. When he took a swig from his beer a little later I saw that the tattoo across his knuckles spelt the word "FINGERS".
(Fri 1st Dec 2006, 15:20, More)
I met a scary Scotish bloke on a train to Preston once
Who was wearing a Rangers football shirt and drinking purple tinnies (Tennants Super).
I noticed that across the knuckles on his left hand he had the letters "G E R S" - I assumed that his other hand had "R A N" across the knuckles to spell Rangers...
Alas no. When he took a swig from his beer a little later I saw that the tattoo across his knuckles spelt the word "FINGERS".
(Fri 1st Dec 2006, 15:20, More)
» Dumb things you've done
I got a new DRILL!!!!
I got a new drill a few weeks ago and was planning on doing some drilling!!!!
I plugged it in and I was ready to GO DRILL SOME STUFF!!!
All I need to do now is open the plastic bag which contains the screws.... I know, I'll USE THE DRILL!!!
As the cutting impliments are in the next room I used the drill as a primitive scissoring device which promptly wound the whole bag of screws and some of my finger up in to the drill bit causing blood, girlish screams and a shower of sharp screws...
End result: I have to do all my drilling and screwing (fnarrr!) with a poorly hand and niggling feelings of self-loathing as a result of my blatant foolishness which sort of ruined the whole drill experience...
Until I remembered you can do the robot dance with drill noise sound effects!!
YAY!!! Drill drill drill....
(Thu 27th Dec 2007, 17:07, More)
I got a new DRILL!!!!
I got a new drill a few weeks ago and was planning on doing some drilling!!!!
I plugged it in and I was ready to GO DRILL SOME STUFF!!!
All I need to do now is open the plastic bag which contains the screws.... I know, I'll USE THE DRILL!!!
As the cutting impliments are in the next room I used the drill as a primitive scissoring device which promptly wound the whole bag of screws and some of my finger up in to the drill bit causing blood, girlish screams and a shower of sharp screws...
End result: I have to do all my drilling and screwing (fnarrr!) with a poorly hand and niggling feelings of self-loathing as a result of my blatant foolishness which sort of ruined the whole drill experience...
Until I remembered you can do the robot dance with drill noise sound effects!!
YAY!!! Drill drill drill....
(Thu 27th Dec 2007, 17:07, More)
» Siblings
Bad Sex
In our small terraced house in the mid eighties, me and my brother were often subjected to the sounds of our randy step-dad defiling my mum at ridiculous volumes and at all times of day or night (jesus fucking christ this still makes me shudder when I remember bringing friends home to watch a video and my mum was at it so loudly with the step dad that we had to leave and go sit outside).
Anyway, on one such occasion it was early morning one saturday and the strange sounds had started in the adjacent bedroom and we were woken up again to the sound of my mother being tortured in such a horrid way... So my older brother Shaun tells me to go in to the next room "and tell mum and Tom to stop shagging". So obviously at 4 years old there was only one thing I could do which was to walk in to the next room and say"
"Muuuuuum..... Shaun says you should stop shagging"...
Fair to say that they did stop shagging and my brother got a bollocking forteaching his younger brother rude words For interrupting their sexy time...
(Thu 1st Jan 2009, 17:42, More)
Bad Sex
In our small terraced house in the mid eighties, me and my brother were often subjected to the sounds of our randy step-dad defiling my mum at ridiculous volumes and at all times of day or night (jesus fucking christ this still makes me shudder when I remember bringing friends home to watch a video and my mum was at it so loudly with the step dad that we had to leave and go sit outside).
Anyway, on one such occasion it was early morning one saturday and the strange sounds had started in the adjacent bedroom and we were woken up again to the sound of my mother being tortured in such a horrid way... So my older brother Shaun tells me to go in to the next room "and tell mum and Tom to stop shagging". So obviously at 4 years old there was only one thing I could do which was to walk in to the next room and say"
"Muuuuuum..... Shaun says you should stop shagging"...
Fair to say that they did stop shagging and my brother got a bollocking for
(Thu 1st Jan 2009, 17:42, More)
» Cringe!
New Years Eve 2003
A long day of excessive drinking and smoking (ah, remember smoking in pubs?) general debauchery and drug taking had eventually led to a small group of survivors sloppily watching the fireworks on the bank of the Thames at midnight 31st December 2003. We're about to welcome a New Year of 2004, I should be happy. CELEBRATE! But with no one to kiss as the bell rings, too drunk and melancholy, feeling a little sorry for myself and spiraling out of control. things couldn't get any worse when suddenly I'm roused as I catch the eye of an attractive young woman, about my age, walking towards me. Dark haired and beautiful and no doubt about it, she is nodding her head and smiling, looking at me! Oh Lord oh lucky day, this year is going to be a good one! So her arms are outstretched and she's walking towards me and I do the natural thing and spread my arms to welcome her sweet embrace and I'm almost laughing and smiling like an idiot when I notice her facial expression change slightly at the last moment and I realise that she's actually holding out a camera and orchestrating a funny photo of her friends just over my shoulder!! Fan-fucking-tastic. And its too late to stop now because I'm right in her face and grab her round the waist and breathe drunkenly at her and she turns away and half shouts "Arghhhh..... GET OFF ME YOU MORON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
cnut cnut cnut cnut cnut......... New year is shit.... cnut cnut cnut cnut cnut.... shame shame shame shame
(Thu 27th Nov 2008, 21:24, More)
New Years Eve 2003
A long day of excessive drinking and smoking (ah, remember smoking in pubs?) general debauchery and drug taking had eventually led to a small group of survivors sloppily watching the fireworks on the bank of the Thames at midnight 31st December 2003. We're about to welcome a New Year of 2004, I should be happy. CELEBRATE! But with no one to kiss as the bell rings, too drunk and melancholy, feeling a little sorry for myself and spiraling out of control. things couldn't get any worse when suddenly I'm roused as I catch the eye of an attractive young woman, about my age, walking towards me. Dark haired and beautiful and no doubt about it, she is nodding her head and smiling, looking at me! Oh Lord oh lucky day, this year is going to be a good one! So her arms are outstretched and she's walking towards me and I do the natural thing and spread my arms to welcome her sweet embrace and I'm almost laughing and smiling like an idiot when I notice her facial expression change slightly at the last moment and I realise that she's actually holding out a camera and orchestrating a funny photo of her friends just over my shoulder!! Fan-fucking-tastic. And its too late to stop now because I'm right in her face and grab her round the waist and breathe drunkenly at her and she turns away and half shouts "Arghhhh..... GET OFF ME YOU MORON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
cnut cnut cnut cnut cnut......... New year is shit.... cnut cnut cnut cnut cnut.... shame shame shame shame
(Thu 27th Nov 2008, 21:24, More)