My Children
by Ron Bruno
‘Oh my god’ I thought to myself. ‘What is that
noise coming from outside? Who or what is out there?’ I hear
voices and footsteps all around me. ‘Go away’ I started
screaming. What was it that I did that was so wrong? I was worried
about them startling my children. Thankfully were able to sleep through
this terrible noise. It’s not like I’m some sort of
monster. I’m just your average typical guy. I started thinking of
all the things I may have done to anger someone, but it sounds like
more than one person out there. What should I do? I’m too afraid
to open the door and try to reason with them. Now I hear them yelling
from the streets and my yard. ‘Murderer, killer, you sick
bastard, come out’ they yelled. All of a sudden I heard police
sirens coming closer. ‘Great’ I thought. ‘The police
are here and they would make that mob go away’ I finally managed
a smile. ‘Come on out Eddie, we know your in there’ I heard
the police call out. ‘What the hell is going on?’ I asked
aloud, as if someone could answer me. Let me think about this. Should I
just go outside to the police? This must be some sort of mistake and I
can explain whatever it is they need explained. But my children, what
about my children? Should I just leave them in here alone? I may as
well, at least if I go outside the crowd would finally, hopefully
settle down and I can show them I’m probably not the person they
are looking for. ‘I’m coming out’ I hollered. As soon
as I opened the door I was charged by the police and thrown to the
floor. ‘Where are they?” one of the officers asked.
‘Where are who? I questioned right back. ‘The children,
tell me where they are right now’ he demanded. ‘What
children? The only children I know anything about are my own children
that are still sleeping in the house’ I replied. I was lifted off
the ground; thankfully, I was in so much pain from being thrown on the
ground, that I think they actually broke my nose. Yes they did, as I
felt blood trickle from my nose onto my lips. Two officers, one for
each of my arms, escorted me back into my house. ‘Tell us where
they are’ they asked more angrily than before. ‘If your
talking about my children they are right upstairs sleeping, which by
thy way, I’m surprised they haven’t been woken up by all
this nonsense. We headed up the stairs and went in to my
children’s room. ‘Oh my god’ one officer said,
another officer started to vomit as if he just had eaten some bad food.
The other officers just stared upon my children in what looked like
utter horror. ‘You see’ I said, ‘these are the only
children I know about. My children, my lovely children.' I kept their
heads perfectly near their bodies so I can always tell which one is
which. I always got them confused with one another. ‘I’m so
sorry officers, this place is such a mess, I told them over and over to
clean up this room. You know how kids are though’. Next thing I
knew I was carried off and thrown into the back of a police car. Once
we got down to the station, they kept asking me questions about the
children. Why did I kill them, why did I take them from their families?
‘But they are and always were my children’ I told them over
and over again. ‘If they were your children, why did you murder
them?’ the detective asked. ‘Murder’ I chuckled.
‘I didn’t murder my children; I just had to discipline
them, that’s all. Children are supposed to listen to their
parents’ I remarked. Well it turns out that the judge and just
about everyone else did not agree with my version of discipline. So now
I’m sitting in this cell for the rest of my life or until they
allow the death penalty. Which to be honest with you, I don’t
mind it so much at all. I just miss my children. My lovely children.
© 2005 Ron Bruno
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