by Eddie Allen
“You!” The Head shouted, pointing with a ruler in his hand towards me.
I looked round and everyone was looking at me. Why were they all eyeballing me?
“You! Stand up!” he cried. I pointed to my chest, indicating whether he meant me or not.
He motioned his ruler up and down, so I stood up.
“I didn’t do anything,” I pleaded.
“Shut up, boy. What’s your name?” he blasted.
“Eddie Aaahhh…” I didn’t get a chance to finish my reply. Out of the blue, a teacher appeared, grabbed my ear and pulled me towards the corridor and along to the Head’s study.
“I didn’t do anything, sir. Honest!” I begged.
“Shut up and get in here, lad,” he demanded.
He flung open the door and threw me in by my ear, slamming the door shut. I stood in front of his desk without moving a muscle. “Empty your pockets, lad,” the teacher shouted.
“Why? I haven’t done anything.”
With that statement, he grabbed my jacket collar and pulled me over the desk. He started riffling in my pockets.
“What’s this?” he said in a sharp voice. Oh shit!! Condemned because I smoke. “Fags and a bloody lighter?” he shouted. “You know the rules, son,” he said, jerking me upright. “This will get you suspended.”
Every cloud has a silver lining, I thought. The study door opened and in walked Mr. Wilson.
“Well, Mr. Harris, What’s he got to say for himself?” he asked.
“He denies it, sir, but I found these in his possession.” He held aloft my fags and lighter.
“Right, leave him to me Mr. Harris, Your class is waiting.”
“OK,” he said, as he left the study.
I’m gonna get caned for something I haven’t even done and I’ve lost my fags and lighter. This is just so unfair.
“Right, lad, you are in serious trouble for that prank you pulled in assembly. Apart from the caning I am going to give you, the school will write to your parents and explain why you have been suspended, Do you understand me, boy?”
“Yes sir,” I sighed.
He walked over to his coat stand and pulled out a long stick made of bamboo. He held both ends and was testing its flexibility.
“This is going to hurt me more than you,” he reckoned.
I don’t bloody think so.
“Bend over and touch your toes,” he demanded.
He walked behind me and lifted my jacket tails up my back. I braced myself for the onslaught and gritted my teeth. There was a swift whooshing noise as the cane whacked my backside; the pain and stinging that immediately followed after contact cannot be described in any way, shape or form. I didn’t flinch, though. I was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had hurt me. Five more followed; each one harder than the last. I could sense his frustration as I refused to make even a murmur.
“Stand up, boy,” he insisted. “And put your hands out,” I stood there, my arms outstretched with my palms facing up. I couldn’t speak I was in so much pain. I just stared at him with hatred in my eyes. I had a sharp pain running down my leg and into my calf muscle. Now this is a different ball game, getting caned across your fingertips. This is going to kill me.
“Think you’re hard boy, do you?” he smirked. “Well, we will see about that, laddie.”
He lifted his arm to its highest point. I closed my eyes as the cane came thundering down at great speed and smashed across the fingertips on my left hand. He hit me with such force that the back of my hand collided with my knee; a sharp, searing pain, followed by aching numbness shooting up to my elbow and into my shoulder. My fingertips were throbbing and stinging; the pain was immense. As I raised my arms up ready for the next blow, my eyes were streaming with tears that ran down my cheeks. I still never made any sound; his face was distorted and red with rage. He let fly with the second attack. The bastard! Went for the same hand again. In his eagerness to get some sort of reaction from me, he missed my fingertips. There was a loud crack as his power struck and broke my thumb. I screamed so loud the whole school must have heard me. I fell to my knees with my thumb all bent and bleeding.
“You bloody idiot. You moved. I told you not to move!” he screamed in a panic. He rushed me to the first aid room. “Where is she?” he stormed.
“She’ll be back in minute,” said the cleaner.
“Sit there, boy, and wait for her,” he said quietly.
“Are you all right, son? Your hand looks a mess. What happened?” the cleaner asked. I was just about to tell her when the first aid lady appeared.
“What have we here, then?” I held my hand up.
“Oh my! That’s nasty, boy. Come on; let’s have a look at it. How did this happen?” she asked, as she was cleaning the cut with antiseptic.
“Mr. Wilson caned me.”
“Been a naughty boy, have we?” she said sarcastically.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” I couldn’t be bothered to plead my innocence. No one would listen anyway. Funny thing, accusations; all my life I’ve been accused and blamed for stuff I never did. She put splints and a bandage on my thumb. My bum was stinging as I sat there.
“Is it broken?” I asked.
“No, just dislocated, you’ll be fine in a few days.”
Thank God for that. I’ve got work on Saturday.
“Right, go up and see Mr. Wilson. I’ve finished with you now.”
I trudged along the corridor to his study, holding my hand up and feeling sorry for myself. I knocked on his door.
“Sit and wait a minute,” he shouted.
I sat down waiting, my bum still sore from his assault. I started to get emotional and tears slowly trickled down my face. What had I done to deserve this horrible existence? Everybody is against me. Why? What have I done? If Nan was right, where was my guardian angel when I needed help? Why did my angel let me get punished for something I never did?
Mr. Harris opened the study door. “Ah Eddie, you OK, son?” he said, with what appeared to be genuine concern. “Come in, Mr. Wilson wishes to speak to you.”
Mr. Harris sat on a chair next to Wilson’s desk twiddling his fingers; their attitude had completely changed.
“Eddie, it takes a big man to admit he’s made a mistake. I am truly sorry for the punishment I dealt you. I was completely wrong in my accusations against you. The real culprit was caught fifteen minutes ago by a senior prefect in the toilets. He had a pocket full of bangers and was attempting to light one when apprehended,” he revealed. He handed me back my lighter and fags. “Don’t bring these into school again, OK?” I shook my head in agreement. “How’s your hand, son?”
“Very sore, sir,” I sighed.
“Shall we forget about the whole incident today?”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” I said, thinking I’d like to throttle the wanker.
“Good! You can have the rest of the week off to recuperate, then!”
“What shall I tell my parents?”
“That you had a fall in the gym during P.E. I will confirm that fact if she calls the school. Is that OK?”
“Yeah, fine,” I said. Well, I had no choice really, did I?
“Once again, son, I am truly sorry about this incident,” he said.
I walked out of the school gates and headed up the high street. The freezing cold wind went through me like a sharp blade, cutting me to the bone. It was cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. It was nearly December and by the time I go back to school next week, it’ll be three weeks till Christmas. Yeah! I approached the jeweller’s and peered through the glass pane, so many to choose from and quite a few in my price range. I bent down, retrieving my two-pound notes from inside my sock and walked into the shop.
“Can I help you, young man?” came the pleasant voice from behind the counter. An old grey-haired man with tiny spectacles resting on his nose was speaking.
“Yes please. I’m looking for a watch,” I said excitedly.
I explai
ned I had two pounds to spend.
“Really?” he smiled. He peered over the top of his spectacles “Present, or for yourself?” he asked, pulling a tray from under the counter.
“For me, sir.”
“Have a look at these ones, son, tell me which one catches your eye.”
I was scanning the tray, picking up watches and checking them out when he asked me how I hurt my hand. I told him what had happened at school. Why I told him is beyond me; I just felt compelled to tell him. In any case, he was a nice old fella.
“I like this one. How much?” I asked curiously.
“It’s your lucky day, son,” he reckoned. Blimey! If this is a lucky day, you can shove it, I thought.
“Why is that?”
“It’s in the sale. Half price, in fact,” he said. “Just one pound to you son.”
“I’ll take it, sir,” I said, feeling chuffed. I handed him a pound, asking him if he would be so kind as to put the watch on my wrist for me. Due to my current incapacity with regards to my hands, he duly obliged and I thanked him for his kindness.
“Don’t worry, son, everything will come to you in time. Just be patient, you’ve got a long hard slog ahead, but just stay focused. You will see the light, maybe not for many years to come, but believe me son you will. Take care of yourself.” he said smiling, as if he knew something I didn’t.
I left the shop confused. What did he mean, a long hard slog? A bit cryptic for my liking. I looked at my watch it was eleven forty-five. I felt hungry and there was no school dinner today. I couldn’t go home, there was no one in and I was never allowed a key to the house. I did ask once but that request fell on deaf ears. Right, Wimpy it is then. I walked up the high street towards the Wimpy. Most of the shops had Christmas decorations hanging in their windows. I stood at the pedestrian crossing waiting for the lights to turn red and as I glanced across the road, I noticed Ann coming out of Blueberry’s gift shop hand in hand with this blonde guy. They were laughing and joking together; my heart sank and I felt physically sick. I stood and watched them disappear into the crowd of shoppers who were marching up the high street. As the lights changed to red, I forced myself to cross the road, feeling very stressed and angry. Why did she hold my hand? She kissed me so gently and beautifully. Is this some sort of game girls play? Maybe it’s a power thing. Maybe Ann does this all the time. I felt betrayed, hurt and totally confused. I entered the Wimpy bar and sat down. My mind was still buzzing. The thought of Ann kissing him was unthinkable. Maybe he was just a friend or a relative and the thought filled me with hope. Of course! I’ve held hands with Karen and Lyn before now and we’re just mates. I convinced myself that was the case. I ordered a brunch and a bottle of Fanta. My backside was still sore and my thumb and fingers were throbbing like mad. The waiter plonked my plate and Fanta down in front of me.
“Here you are, sir. Enjoy your brunch,” he said in broken English.
“Thanks, mate,” I replied.
The food didn’t even touch the sides; I was ravenous. After I had drunk my Fanta, I gave a loud burp and left the Wimpy. I started to walk down the high street and glanced at my watch. Half past twelve; I should get to Rose’s by one, I thought to myself.
I opened the gate and walked up the pathway to Rose’s front door and twisted the doorbell. I waited a few seconds, gazing at the stained glass window as I waited. I noticed a shadow approach and open the door. Ashen-faced and looking distraught, Rose just gestured me inside. I followed her silently into the lounge. She plonked herself down on the sofa with a big sigh.
“What happened to your hand?” she asked, looking concerned. She motioned me to sit down. “Tell me what happened, Eddie?”
“It happened at school,” I explained. I decided to tell Rose the whole story, including what the old man in the jeweller’s said to me.
“Well, Eddie, you sure are going through a rough patch at the moment,” she sighed.
“He keeps following me, Rose, and last night he nearly got me during the night. What can I do?” I asked, feeling despondent.
“What? He came last night? The bloody liar told me that he would leave you alone for a while,” Rose said angrily.
“You spoke to him?” I gasped.
“Yes, last night,” Rose stormed. “His spirit is alarmingly strong. He was a very powerful and evil man when he was on our physical plane. He has had many life times on Earth and refuses to accept the universal law. That’s why he’s in limbo at present. He is being tormented and punished for the acts he committed while on Earth. He roams the deep void, searching for souls who get lost when they astral travel. He’s not the only one either; there are many demons in the deep void, Eddie. He uses susceptible children and teenagers to come through. The fact that he can manifest himself through you when you are awake is utterly fascinating. You’re his magnet from the deep void. Why do you let him in, Eddie?”
“I don’t, and even if I did, I have no recollection of it.” I answered, all confused.
“I don’t understand how he’s manifesting himself through you. Your home life is happy isn’t it, Eddie? I mean, you have a loving family, don’t you?”
I’d never told Rose about my family. I had a feeling that was all about to change.
“Well,” I sighed, “it’s like this; it started when I was ten and gradually he became more and more violent to the point were he’s nearly killed me before.” I continued telling Rose all about my father and what he had done to me, both physically and mentally. Rose looked at me in horror and was visibly shaken by my statement.
“My God! You poor boy, that’s how he comes through. He uses your pain and sorrow and most of all your feeling of unworthiness. Oh, Eddie! I’m so sorry.” She stood up and gave me a big hug; a small teardrop rolled down my cheek.
“You’ve got to get away,” she said. “As soon as possible.”
I knew what Rose had said was right. I had to escape somehow. She put her arm around my shoulders and guided me into the kitchen.
“Come on. Let’s have a cup of tea,” she said in a soft, caring voice. She put the kettle on the stove and lit the gas.
“I tell you what, Eddie, let’s be naughty, shall we?” she laughed, obviously trying to cheer me up. She bent down to the cupboard and brought out this gorgeous-looking chocolate cake. My face lit up.
“That looks lovely,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“I was saving it for Christmas, but what the heck! I’ll get another one,” she laughed.
While Rose made the tea, I put the cake and plates on the lounge table.
“Come and get this knife for the cake, Eddie, while I bring in the tea,” Rose asked politely.
We sat there in total silence drinking our tea and eating this unbelievably delicious chocolate sponge cake. Rose was so kind and caring. I wished with all my heart that my parents could be like her, but I knew that was impossible. It would never ever happen. After tea, I offered to wash up as a token of my thanks. Rose duly agreed, saying with a grin that she’d dry the dishes. When we finished the washing up, we sat back down in the lounge.
“When’s your birthday, Eddie?” Rose asked.
“Fifteenth of February.”
“Ah, an Aquarian, That explains a lot about you.”
“Really? In what way, Rose?” I asked.
“Well, they say the Age of Aquarius will soon be upon us.”
“What does that mean, Rose?”
“It’s when most Aquarians receive enlightenment and spirituality. They are the way forward for the human race, the saviours of the planet! Most are caring, kind, friendly, non-aggressive, sensitive humanitarians who derive great pleasure from helping others. It’s said that Aquarians are artistic and a bit eccentric, however, they are way ahead of their time. A lot of great leaders, physic mediums, inventers and philosophers were Aquarians. I don’t think I’ve ever read of an Aquarian warmonger.”
Interesting.
“Do you know about birth signs, Eddie’? she ask
ed.
“No, not really. Why do you ask?”
“There are certain groups of humans who believe our souls return to the physical plane twelve times to gain knowledge and wisdom. The Greeks believed that the stars surrounding our planet held all the mysteries of the universe; that the stars are an integral part of our existence, Aries being the first-born and Pisces the last.”
Rose was the most fascinating person I had ever met. Her beliefs mirror exactly how I feel today, although I think mine may go a little deeper. I think Rose missed out on quite a lot, in my opinion but, nevertheless, she was absolutely on the right path and a top class medium.
“Do you believe in God, Eddie?” she asked, with a twinkle in her eyes.
That question was like asking me how long a piece of string was or which came first the chicken or the egg?
“Not sure, Rose. I know there’s something out there but I couldn’t categorically say what it is. I mean, if there is a God, why does He let me have all the grief and heartache in my life?” I asked, looking pensive.
“It’s not God’s fault, Eddie. You chose the life you’ve got now, even if you made a mistake! There’s a reason why you made the wrong choice; maybe there’s something you have to learn in this life, Eddie. But that won’t unfold for many years to come yet. Even then, there’s no guarantee that you’ll learn. I have a feeling you will, though. You’re a young man, Eddie, with an old head on your shoulders. Do you ever feel different from the others?” Rose asked.
“Yes, I do all the time. Sometimes I feel totally alone even when my friends surround me. They’re just not on the same wavelength as me, but I never say anything. I just go with the flow, blocking it out of my mind.”
“Who gave you the Cross and St. Christopher hanging around your neck, Eddie?” Rose asked.
“My nan, She said it would protect me through my life and on my travels, but only if I truly believed in my heart.”
