Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-32807959-20181213134809

My name is Johnny Zimmerman and I have a story to tell. I just turned 14 and I couldn’t be more happy with myself and my life.

It all started with the coming of my birthday, about 2 years ago. I was miserable. My father was cruel and a drunkard. Every birthday I had always seemed to be rushed because of the circumstances involving my father. Every now and then he would get me a gift or two. But it was just to shut me up. I didn’t know what his problem was, and I still don’t care. But he beat me and my mother constantly like it was a daily routine. He was a lazy bum who couldn’t keep a job for more than 2 weeks. They weren’t even big company type jobs. They were more like personal exchanges. Some even illegal.

I remember about 2 years ago, the night before my birthday, he almost burned the house down. He didn’t even consider the familiar consequences prior to his actions. I remember it started with him coming home drunk. Nothing unusual about that. He came home drunk every night 90% of the time. Not giving a shit what was going on or anything we had to say. We did our best to ignore him. We did so until we couldn’t. He was slouched on the couch telling us things we didn’t want to hear. He had a lot to say as well. Our family had issues.

I’m sure one of the things he was rambling about was the death of my grandparents and some conspiracy shit you’d expect a drunkard to go on about. Soon, we got fed up with it and asked him to leave. When he refused, my mother raised her voice and he socked her in the jaw. Not slapped, socked. Then he was on her covering her mouth before she could scream. I trembled in tears. Whenever I screamed and cried, he threatened to beat me the same way if I continued to do so. So that time I kept my mouth shut. He beat her black and blue, and as usual made me swear not to utter a word.

My grandparents are a very serious topic for me. Especially when the notion of their death is involved. They were killed in a car wreck near the exit of the highway. An eighteen wheeler apparently took them off course and a corvette behind them was part of a police car chase and slammed right into them. Nobody survived. It was a tragedy. I loved them very much. It felt like they were the only real family I had with minimal issues. They always found time to spend time with me. Read me stories, and always looked out for me. The closest I’ve ever gotten to true kindness.

They were lied back and relaxed. Sure they had qualities of their offspring but they were more tender spirit wise. At least they appeared to be so. They were also fond of me. They enjoyed and anticipated my actions with a calm sincerity. Whenever my mother announced a trip to visit them I became filled with excitement and joy, but strangely, mostly relief. They were my grandparents from my mothers side. They always welcomed him with open arms and were happy to see him. The average person would not see it as I understand now, but I certainly did.

My mother on the other hand, suffered from extreme stress and depression. A lot of that was because of my father. Truthfully, his influence rubbed off on her. She had her demons too, and coped with them drinking alcohol. I feel like the more she lost herself, the more our connection distanced Itself in our relationship. Soon she was too far. Everyone was away from me in my family household. The only ones I could rely on were my grandparents. I just hoped and waited for my mother to say we need to visit them. To get her mind off things, she went to her parents quite often. She wasn’t as fortunate as they were apparently.

I made good acquaintances in school. I was bullied every now and then but most of the students were sympathetic of my situation at home. Especially the girls. Not everyone shared my misfortune.

My first experience of what I believe played a part of my salvation was in the corn fields of my grandpas farm. He was showing me how to work the old fashioned mower. It was an old mower tractor type vehicle. It had chipped red paint all over it. A piece essential to the ignition had fallen off. It took my grandpa 8 minutes to realize he wasn’t mowing anything. He ordered me to search for it. In the tall grass I felt a presence. It was dark and cold. But all the more so relieving. It felt as if I should just leave everything behind and let go. The presence was so strong I could hear and understand it even though no real sounds were coming out. It felt as if something was watching me in the high grass. My grandpa called for me and it went away. I thought about the presence many weeks that followed. Soon I let it go as I haven’t felt it since then.

When I heard of their death, I felt it briefly. I went back to the corn field in the high grass to see if I could feel it for guidance. I encountered nothing.

My last birthday with my parents was not foreseen. But I’m glad it transpired. The night before that birthday, we received severe beatings from my drunkard father of mine. That night he was rambling about how inconvenient the placement of my grandparents graves were. They were buried at our church cemetery about 8 blocks away. This time my father said if she messed up again, he would kill her and sell her soul to the devil. He even marked her with a knife to prove it. I was absolutely horrified.

The next day was my party. Over 20 kids from my school were invited. Most of them came. I limped on and off that day cause of my father. My mood was the same. I enjoyed the company aside my personal life. When the time came to blow out the candles and make a wish, I felt the presence. Although it was different this time. It actually felt good and wasn’t as intense. My wish was for my grandparents to come back and take me away from my parents. And surely enough, they did.

Their decaying bodies rose from their graves and made their way to my party. I was so happy to see them. Even in their present state. As soon as the doorbell rang, my father went to answer it, drunk as usual. There were my grandparents at the door. My grandma stuck her bony dried out fingers Into his eye sockets and buried them deep in his head. I took joy in watching him suffer. Then my grandpa instantly tore my fathers abdomen open and his stomach tore up to his ribs and his intestines became visible. They flopped out as my grandpa tried to organize them. His other organs were visible as well. If happened so fast my father still stood. Once my grandmas fingers were sticking out the other side of his head she tore his head and skull open and his brain split into two pieces.

Everything became hectic. Everyone ran around and screamed. Although the doors seemed to be locked. I don’t remember anyone getting out. My grandma took a knife from the kitchen. She advanced to my mother with her dried out eyes. My grandma slit her open from groin to sternum. Then the lights went out. It was pitch black. I sat still. It felt so pleasant, I didn’t take much notice to the bloodcurdling screams of horror and dread around me. When the lights came on, the walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in human meat and organs. Pieces of all the guests lay everywhere. I gave my grandparents a hug and thanked them. We stated by re making the cake using my dads head and organs. We ate it together for celebration. Then we had my mom for desert.

This is the first time I’ve written this true story down. I’ve gone months without taking those events into account. I live with a foster family now. But every now and then it comes to calm me. To assure me it will all be ok. My grandparents had to go unfortunately. Probably back to their graves. However you put it, that birthday was the best birthday of my life. And the best day ever. 