“I won’t stop!” the boy yelled as he slammed the door on his way out of the house. He was crying, but he wouldn’t let his father see that. At thirteen years old, Piet was the youngest of eight children. The others had all moved away from home as soon as they could, so he didn’t really know them.
His family originally came from Holland, Michigan, and were members of the Reformed Church, which tended towards a strict, Calvinist understanding of Christianity. His mother was of Dutch descent and named her last boy Piet. When his parents had moved from Michigan, they had continued in their strict conservative ways.
His father had fought in the Korean War and suffered from what is now known as PTSD. While always strict, once he was unable to work due to a construction accident, he became sullen, went on welfare, and began drinking. By evening, he was usually thoroughly drunk, and Piet tried to stay away from him.
The man believed in strict discipline, so Piet got spanked frequently, but that seemed to have no effect on him. If anything, it made him defiant. The spankings had started out gently, but by the time he was ten, they were so hard they could easily be described as child abuse.
Other punishments included being shut in his room with no supper, not leaving the house, and no presents on birthdays or Christmas.
Piet’s mother loved him, but she often admitted to herself that there were times she didn’t like him, and she occasionally described him as a demon.
When he turned thirteen, his mother gave him a puppy, thinking that perhaps having some responsibilities might cure his defiance. He loved the dog, which he named Alex for some reason he could not explain. He and Alex became inseparable, so removing Alex from the house was soon another punishment. Once his father threatened to shoot Alex. That scared Piet but he didn’t believe that, and it didn’t change him.
The day when he stormed out of the house was nothing new, and his mother didn’t even try to stop him. His father had ordered him to keep the dog out of the house, and he refused, saying there were creatures outside which might harm him in the night. The man grabbed hold of Piet’s arm. The boy twisted away from his father, announced that he wouldn’t leave Alex outside, and ran from the house.
As he sat in the nearby woods, crying, he heard a loud gunshot. “NO!” he yelled as he raced around the corner of the house. He stopped, frozen in place, when he saw his father holding a shotgun and Alex lying on the ground, bloody and clearly dead.
“You bastard!” Piet exclaimed. His father was silent. Piet picked up the dog and sobbing, took him to the woods. He mourned all that day and refused to go into the house, although both parents called him from time to time. At dusk, his mother came out to find him.
“Piet, your father told you he would shoot Alex if you didn’t change your behavior,” she said.
“What I said and did was my fault. Why kill Alex? He was just an innocent, loving dog. Dad’s a bastard!”
“Don’t use that language around me,” she said, standing. She had brought a blanket with her which she wrapped around her son. Returning to the house, she looked at her husband and shrugged her shoulders.
Piet remained all night with the blanket around his shoulders. He heard some sounds in the woods which he had never heard before. At one point, a fox came up and sniffed at Alex, looked at Piet, and whimpered before fading once again into the trees.
In the morning, Piet went to the toolshed and returned to Alex with a shovel and a pick. He dug for a long time, before wrapping the dog in the blanket and placing it in the hole.
“Goodbye, my dear friend,” he said with tears running down his face. He filled in the hole, stood a moment saying a silent prayer, and returned the shovel and pick to the shed before going into the house.
He walked through the living room, where both of his parents were sitting, but he never said a word. Going to the refrigerator, he took a bottle of milk and some bread before he went to his bedroom. He didn’t exit the room at all that day except to use the bathroom. It being summer, he didn’t have to worry about missing school. At night, he lay on his bed, but he didn’t sleep. All he thought about was revenge.
Towards morning, he became aware that someone or something was in his room with him. He turned on the light and saw, standing before him, the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. Piet was stunned. The boy was slender and completely naked. He seemed to be about Piet’s age. He had long, shiny, reddish-brown hair. His skin was flawless; his face was radiant and gave off a soft glow. Piet could feel a gentle warmth emanating from the boy, and somehow he found that comforting.
“Who are you?” he asked, “and how did you get into my room?”
“You can call me Marcus,” said the boy. “I came because I sensed that you were in great pain. I felt your anger and yes, your fear.”
“I’m not afraid,” protested Piet.
“Yes, you are. You’re afraid your father will do to you what he did to Alex.”
Piet thought a moment and realized that Marcus was right. “Okay,” he said, “but you didn’t tell me how you got into my room or how you know the name of my dog.”
“I can’t tell you, except to say that walls are no obstacle to me.”
“Are you magic?”
“Perhaps some would say that.”
“What else can you do?”
“I’d rather not talk about it. Suffice it to say I’m here to help you, but I can’t unless you want me to.”
“I don’t need any help,” retorted Piet.
“Very well. I shall leave. But if you ever need me, just call my name in your mind. It doesn’t even need to be aloud. Rest assured I will come.” And to Piet’s astonishment, just as Marcus had appeared he vanished.
Piet remained in his bed until morning, but he got little sleep.
As light showed through his window, he got up, dressed, and went into the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast. His mother was there, cooking. His father was still in bed. Probably sleeping off his latest drunk, Piet thought.
“Good morning, Piet,” she said. “I thought you might be hungry. I’ve just finished the bacon and I’m scrambling some eggs. Then I’ll make a few pancakes.”
Hmmm, Piet wondered. Is she trying to comfort me because of Alex?
As she put a plate full of bacon and eggs before him, his mother said, “I’m sorry about Alex. You were right. He didn’t deserve the fate he had. But at least you know he didn’t suffer.”
That’s Mom, Piet thought, always trying to find the bright side of everything and excusing whatever her husband did.
Piet didn’t respond, but he devoured the bacon and eggs and then ate two large pancakes, quite a meal even for a thirteen-year-old.
When he finished breakfast, he put his dishes in the sink and went outside. Without really thinking about it he walked to Alex’s grave and sat beside it.
As he thought, he talked aloud, as though Alex could hear him. “I’m so sorry, Alex. Just like Mom said, you didn’t deserve to die. You were my only friend, and I already miss you.” He was silent for a time before he stood and said, “You were a good, loving dog so I’m sure you’re in doggie heaven. I hope you’re happy there, but I miss you a lot. I love you, Alex.” He stood a little longer, tears in his eyes. Then turned and walked into the woods.
As a young child, Piet had been afraid of the woods. He knew the stories like Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding Hood, but he had finally decided they were just stories meant to frighten children. He knew there were no fierce animals such as wolves or bears in the woods, and his greatest fear was encountering a skunk and getting sprayed with that horrible smell.
He never got lost in the woods. There were no trails, and he purposely took different routes each time so that he wouldn’t accidentally create one. He loved walking on the cushion of pine needles. Somehow, he always knew how to get home when he wanted to. The tall, dark trees seemed to continue on forever. He liked the feeling of being alone. There was a small clearing in the woods where he sat and thought about Alex, who used to scamper about as Piet walked. Alex never got very far away, and Piet hadn’t ever feared the dog would run off. In the woods that day, as he remembered Alex walking with him, it seemed to him that the dog was right nearby, enjoying all the scents he had explored in the past.
As he sat, he wondered how he could avenge Alex’s murder. He thought of shooting his father, but he knew he couldn’t get hold of the shotgun, which was always locked away securely. He thought and thought but never came up with an idea. The problem was that he was a kid, and his father had all the power. There wasn’t anything he could do.
Piet skipped lunch, but he’d had a large breakfast and wasn’t really feeling hungry. Besides, if he went back for lunch his father would be there, and he had no desire to talk with his father.
Piet’s siblings numbered four brothers and three sisters. They were all much older than he was. His youngest sib, a brother, was nearly 20 and had moved out of the house a couple of years earlier. Most of his siblings were married and raising families of their own, so Piet was an uncle many times over, but he never saw either his nieces and nephews or his brothers and sisters. He knew that the reason for that was his father.
Piet had been born when his father was 47 and his mother was 46. They had thought that his mother was no longer able to produce children, and with seven children already, it never occurred to them that she could still become pregnant. Obviously, she could, and Piet was the result.
One day he told his mother that he wanted another dog. “Wouldn’t the same thing happen to it that happened to Alex?” she asked.
“I’ve thought about that,” he replied. “Maybe I can stop being so defiant.”
“Well, prove to me that you can stop, and I’ll get you another dog.”
He tried. He really tried. But somehow, almost anything his father said made him angry. Too often he talked back. Late in the summer, his father slapped his face twice, hard.
Piet swore at him and ran from the house.
Sitting beside Alex’s grave, Piet finally thought, Marcus, I need you.
Immediately, Marcus was sitting beside him, naked as before, and holding his hand. As they sat side by side, Piet felt his penis growing hard. While this was not a new sensation to him ─ his penis had always hardened from time to time for no clear reason ─ this time he experienced a new feeling as his heart began to beat faster and he grew warm at Marcus’s touch. What was going on? he wondered.
“Talk to me,” Marcus said quietly.
“He slapped me, hard!” replied Piet.
“Yes. What do you want to do about it?”
“Sometimes I want to kill him, but I know I never will. I either want to run away or kill myself.”
“Suicide isn’t really a solution, you know.”
“Why? If I did that, he’d be sorry and all my pain would be gone.”
“Perhaps, but you don’t know what the afterlife would be for you. Besides, you have much life to live yet, and it can be a good life.”
“How?”
“You’ll never know unless you live it. Tell me…you talked about running away. Where might you go?”
Piet was silent for a bit. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “Perhaps to one of my siblings.”
“Do you have a favorite sibling to go to?”
“Not really. They’re all so much older than me. I don’t know any of them very well.”
Marcus thought for a moment before asking, “What about your oldest sibling, Conrad?”
“How did you know his name?”
“Oh, I know a lot about you.”
Puzzled, Piet said, “I’ve never met Conrad.”
“Well, perhaps now’s the time.”
Marcus rose and took Piet’s hand. Before Piet could even think, he was standing with Marcus in front of a nicely tended home in what appeared to be a suburb with a metropolitan area rising to the east.