The Chainsaw Man

By Lama Milkweed L. Augustine

This is a lengthy, but exciting
novel of how a promising young boy becomes molded into a horrific
individual. It explains about the
persons life in such detail, that emotions literally explode into a wavering
array of uninterruptible events. class=GramE>Leading to endless scenes of inhumane atrocities.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Feeding on this
individuals frail and developing psyche.

ALLEN SHAW: The chainsaw man,
became what all people would come to fear the most.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Something out of our
darkest dreams. class=GramE>Driven solely by an incurable rage inflicted on him by a mixture of
influences. Taking
the reader directly into the mind of this gruesome monster of a man who carries
a chainsaw. Dwelling
in the famed BIG THICKET or Texasclass=GramE>. This novel will
take one literally back to a time in the 1960s 1970s; Its drastically
differed ways of thinking, and ways of life.
Where the great American landscapes were still fiercely ever in
tact. Its
values, and ways of conversing with all that is inside.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Its ways of being.

A literally
terrifying novel where one is chased forever in this thick tangle of
jungle-like Texasclass=GramE> land. A blood
encrusted warrior who does the unspeakable.
It will undoubtedly frighten, but it will equally reveal a heartfelt
pain that is very real among most of us.
The need to be loved and accepted.

This torture survivor remembers a
different place: a different time.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> It is told now in the long gone class=SpellE>genr of a good old fashioned horror/slash thriller that WE
of the 70s know and will fondly recall.
I take the reader by the hand and lead him into my world.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Where the realities that
men do onto unsuspecting others.
The horrific impact following. class=GramE>The literal mental state that thrives ever so fluently in the
collective unconscious of modern man.
Never forget that he is stalking you!

Dont go in the woods alone . .
. The CHAIN SAW MAN is coming!!

For the chain saw man will
forever live in infamy . . . In the back woods of us all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 20, 2004
• ISBN: 9781414057194

Lama Milkweed L. Augustine

      Ven. Lama Rimpoche, Milkweed L. Augustine, has written for many years as a poignant means of relaying vital information to the public, as both a leader of religion, and as a simple woman. Born in 1966, Miss Milkweed Augustine has triumphed over overwhelming odds that mostly spawned from congenital defects.      A powerful activist for the human rights for people from all over the world, as some even seek her personal assistance, especially on the Ivory Coast of Africa, as an individual wanted her to literally come to his country and stand by his side to proclaim their rightful place. Ven. Lama Rimpoche, Milkweed L. Augustine has consistently shown the integrity of the living spirit that shadows it’s Divine Creator. Surviving fatal neglect, and years of imprisonment with brutal torture, as well as famine with brainwashing, Milkweed Augustine will endlessly represent what she has thusly endured, but with a much equal respect, just what the literal miracle of having a boundless faith can really do.      Torn maliciously away from her family and home at the age of six, she now testifies to all peoples that t here exists no substitutions for ethics, love of our fellow man, but combined with a fervent following of religious practice and faith. Now a confirmed Roman Catholic, but fluent in Latin and many other foreign languages, Lama Milkweed L. Augustine upholds the glory of the truly Christina Church. A beautiful tapestry she painted to endlessly glorify our dear Lord and the Virgin Mary, our mother, is now hanging in a state of permanent display at Middleboro’s “Sacred Heart” Church, as she has given so much more to her Parish and to God, as people there, including the fellow people of the cloth, proclaim her as truly “gifted” from God. Her faithfulness and unceasing devotion has been an inspiration to them all here. Milkweed daily states the very same, “Before we go to the table, let us first call to mind our sins.”         A fervent preserver of the past, and a woman who never ceases to glorify the Lord God in any possible way she can. Lama Milkweed has also finally made the public media circuit of a New York newspaper, “Albany’s Times Union” ,but not only because of herself being a victim, but more so, due to the fact that she fiercely stands up to her enemies.      “Without the love and friendship of my God, Augustine says, I certainly would not contain the strength to do any of the things I’ve so far managed to do.. For with God in ones’ heart, one can achieve the greatest of potential, but moreover the greatest form of wisdom-a wisdom that knows no bounds-because it comes to us from our loving and forgiving Lord.”

Book preview

Chapter One

A mad man. A cold blooded killer. How could anyone say this about my son?, a woman tearfully, but regrettedly said. Carolyne Shaw was this woman. She had grown somewhat old before her time.She stood there in a daze of utter bewilderment. She just couldn’t understand how it had been allowed to go this far. Carolyne was only fifty one years old. However, she appeared to have suffered years of untold grizzlieness and horror.

Carolyne was a tall woman. A height of five feet, eight inches. Her frame was wirey from being brought up in a harsh existence of country life. She was extremely strong willed and equally resourceful. However, she suddenly broke all of her defences. Her mental ability of constant denial concerning her son, had suddenly been shattered. Reality struck her hard across the face. Her son, Allan Shaw. He was labeled by authorities as the most diabolical epitomy of Satan himself. The most horrific person to ever breathe the air of mortal man. The man was so mentally insane, he barely ever knew where he was.

Carolyne never once had blamed her son for his behavior in the beginning. However, she was equally aware that he grew steadily worse in his mental instability. Carolyne herself, felt pretty much the same way towards her mate before their son killed him. The woman even tried to cover up the atrocious evidence of the boy’s act. But, should she dare to confess?

Chapter Two

Carolylne said she had been married to a man for some time. He was a physician, but did not take any liking to big city hospitals. Jerry Shaw, Ph.D. They lived in a rural area stretching for about 200 miles. The land where the Shaws dwelled, was located in the extreme part of Texas. It was a beautiful area, with it’s swamps and uncrowded highways. There were many acres of untouched woodland, due to being fiercly protected by both the local residents and that of the government. In fact, tourists very rarely set foot in this part. Other than a well known spot of equally protected land called the Big Thicket.

It was a beautiful place, but like all areas of serenity and beauty, there was also an ugly side. In the area where the Shaws lived, poverty was in abundance. Dirt roads painted red from the clay, meandered throughout this large radius. Run down trailer homes, regular homes, small farms and businesses were sparcely scattered. However, the ever present woods towered around these impoverished places of dwelling. Like that of a comforting blanket on a cold winter’s night.

In the dwelling of the Shaw family, it wasn’t really much different. They lived in a large trailer house nestled next to a wide spread of thick woodland. Part of it was also wetland. It was very beautiful to all the senses. About one hundred or so feet, stood a very large shed. It was a strongly built structure of wood and metal. It’s pitched roof was that of tin, but not put together in a sloppy hastened sense. Rather, it was laid out with care and professionalism. The builder must have known what he was doing. Inside of the structure, ther was a concrete floor with numerous cracks and old faded stains. A very long wooden counter was against one of the walls lengthwise to the shed. It was worn and splintered. It contained the stark evidence of butchery, due to knife marks and deep gouges made by cattle knives which are used to cut out the throats of the dead cows. The fiberous tissue is very tough, so these special cleavers are used . There were several meat hooks attached to the walls, while the rest were long removed. They looked fiercely sharp. For they must have been useful in their purpose in holding up the carcuses after slaughter, which had been this shed, a retired slaughter house. There were large bins used to place the discarded parts. Large, empty, eight gallon drums to store most of the blood were also scattered about. The windows were not may in number, only eight, but were equally filthy from years of neglect. Spiders, and various insects made their home in this once place of death. A large drain in the center of the dirty concrete floor was cracked and nicked up quite a bit. There were even four personal meat freezers, but had not been in use for some time before the Shaws purchased the trailer. There was an electrical hookup to a main line so the lights and freezer could run. The main switch had been off for some time. Who ever owned the shed had obviously taken good care of it, but time had taken over on the decision of the structure’s state of erosion.

The wide trailer home of the Shaw family also had been around for some time. The outside of the place was well weathered and faded. The color of the trailer was dark brown or a rust with white painted trim. Inside of the home was equally humble with it’s exterior. A large wide living room with paneled walls and an old matted down wall-to-wall carpet. The years of neglect and dampness had emerged from beneath the foundation, and had seeped through the floors. This caused the carpeting to be moldy and peeling back in various places. The floor had to be continuously fixed in places, due to the boards sagging. This caused numerous dips in the floor, and unsteady footing. During the rainy season was considered the worst for them. Mainly, due to the flimsy tiles making up the interior ceiling. They soaked up the moisture from the heavy rains, and had caused leaky deposits of rainwater to fall. Severe stains covered much of this tiled ceiling, and like the floor below, there was much buckling and sagging going on.

There was an old time electric refrigerator in the kitchen which was adjoining the wide living room. It was dirty on the outside with years of fingerprints and dribbles from spilled food. It was really a disgusting appliance. It would quickly deter someone from wanting to eat anything. The double sink was next to it with many cabinets to store pots, pans, and canned goods. These too were dusty and somewhat unkept, but they were definately not like that of the refrigerator next to them. On the one window above the double sink, a small potted plant of a miniature rose. It was well taken care of by it’s owner, Carolyne Shaw. This rose was her only reminder of the presence of the All Mighty. For in her life, God’s light could not find a way in. A life of tragedy, abuse and fear.

When she fell in love with Jerry Shaw, he was a kind man. However, he was someone one better dare not to cross in any way. She had always sensed this whenever she dated Jerry, but she still managed to overshadow her nervousness concerning this sensation. He had never raised a hand to her. Even all through their marriage. But, it were pertaining to his mind games, and that of snide remarks, and his extreme sense of ego. He hated what was different, which had been why he refused to ever leave the harsh life of the deep country. What had always been equally strange to Carolyne, was that he was a physician, and he hated the sick. That was pertaining to those whom he just couldn’t treat or help. The nearest big hospital stood over forty miles away. A small two floor medical facility was the place where Jerry had been working all those years. Still, he did not bring home a very big paycheck compared to the city doctors. There was always a varying epidemic of malnutrion out here. Jerry hardly ever helped these people. There were those whom had lost children to total starvation. None of them would have died, if Dr. Jerry Shaw PhD., had called the mail hospital nearby and prepared tham for admission for sickly, starving children. He never did, but only on rare occasions. One woman had threatened the doctor’s life with a handgun if her daughter did not receive life saving medical aid. She was a walking skeleton weighing forty-nine pounds and lay on the doctor’s table in a shriveled, heap. She was only fifteen. It had been found at the big hospital, the girl only had days to live.

The man’s domineering spirit continued in the home. Due to this, the in-laws on both sides never came to visit. HE grew intensely hardened and often took out his inner grief on his wife as well as his patients. He forbade them to speak without permission. However, Carolyne never submissed to this one command. He was definately a God fearing man, but he did not fear Him out of respect or love. Rather he just feared him. Carolyne, as said, was a strong willed woman. She grew up harshly, but not without that throbbing presence of a loving family. They were all church goers, but the love was always inspired, and there was no cause for fear. She did a lot of hard chores both before and after their marriage. She did everything from chopping wood, to cleaning house to changing her Grandpa’s diapers. They never had a lawn mower growing up, so she used a large cythe.. Carolyne loved her life, because she had her family with its closeness and its setbacks. The area of the country in which she lived also had a great effect on her. Her spirit was nutured with the seeds of faith and the fruits of hard labor. But, it had all been in the name of the family.

Jerry had never really told much concerning his side. Other than that fear of God. Hard work, the law, and order was all that appeared to exist. Inhibitions to the extreme were induced by his father all his life. Depression, repressed anger, and hidden hate were all that Jerry had felt growing up. However, if he did not adhere strictly to these rules, then he was severly reprimanded. Corporal punishment, hard work, and forced starvation were always the answer to his slacking. This is probably why Jerry hated the malnourished. He had told Carolyne at one time, that he hated these patients just because they were sick. If one’s skin color differed than that of white, then forget about being seen at all. However, he was the only physician who had been doing this.

The home of the Shaws was indeed kept up by Carolyne’s standards, but not that of her mate. Carolyne had a spark of inner strength that had been thoroughly nurtured a long time ago, and it had always come to her aid whenever she called upon it. Jerry would often demand she do things around the house in a certain way. She would not be compelled by him. Rather, she stood up for herself and fought for her rights as both a human being and as a woman. As what had been said, Jerry never put a hand to her, but he often threatened her with things like food deprivation. Or, being led into the deep woods around the property to be left for the ‘gators to eat her. Despite all this, she never left him.

The woods on their land, had also run into the land that was unclaimed. Most of this woodland was not considered wetland, but it rambled into a wide swamp. Vines covered everthing over there concealing small rivers one could hop across. The main highway passed right along side of this swampy area. In fact, if one followed the woods from the highway to the right, an invisible arch would take one directly to the Shaw trailer. The length of distance was about one and a half miles. Many alligators and other creatures of the night would hunt and wander all through here. But rarely, would they wander into the other wooded area. It was less damp and further away from any water. This made it difficult for alligators to healthily sustain themselves, making it almost virtually safe.

They owned a fairly large amount of land, but most of it was wide open spaces. However, the many trees served as a protective barrier against strong hurricane winds. They also served as a constant sense of mental security and solitude which Carolyne liked. When the wind blew just right, the sounds of the many motor vehicles could be heard. In normal circumstances, one could not hear them due to being far enough away from the highway.

What Carolyne mostly loved about this area of land, was that there were many lovely sounds of nature all around. Particularly the crickets. All of her life she’s loved this one special sound of the natural world. Next came the birds, and the sounds of the frogs singing all around the wet land or after a rain. She had a special spirit within her that was able to take in all God’s creations. To Carolyne, each day and everything in it was sacred. Through all of this tragedy and mental anguish since her married life, these circumstances of the negative could not disfigure or extinguish this fraigle, but strong flower of life within. Depression and grieving for her very sanity at times had overtaken her, but she still managed to get through those events of mental battles.

The open field that had mostly been their land, was mostly tall grass. Jerry was sort of a junk man outside of his profession. Around the backside of the slaughter house, large piles of neatly stacked articles of junk stood. However, he never really sold anything. Right near the trailer home, was a long tall stack of wood. For them to use on cold nights during the winter months. Even in this particular part of the country, the nights do feel quite a nip of old man winter. Jerry often used his one and only chain saw to cut up the wood. Saw dust was always evident in this large area. The dust was so thick in spots, the grass could not grow. In other spots it was less. The grass would come sprouting up through the thin layer of saw dust. Most of the area around the trailer was all dirt or sand. It had all been worn away by rain, but also from their son playing. Yes their son. Mr. Allen Shaw.

Chapter Three

Allen Shaw, the diabolical epitomy of Stan himself. He was born thirty four years ago in the very trailer that Carolyne and Jerry had been living in. He was a small boy for his age, because of a fatal lung disease called Cystic Fibrosis. It also interferes with absorption of vital elements from foods. A sticky coating secreted over the exterior surface of the pancreas gland stops most of the digestive enzymes from being difused into the duodenum below the upper half of the stomach. The duodenum is really a continuation of the stomach and the beginning of the lower gastrointestinal tract. This also causes a lot of intestinal problems. Greasyfoul smelling stools, due to mucus and malabsorbed nutrients.

This disease caused the child to be very thin with a constantly runny nose. It usually causes a ravenous appetite, due to the body never really getting enough. In Allen’s case, he was totally the opposite. He had no appetite. However, the child’s disease was not as bad as it could be. His father treated the child in the first three years of his life. Allen did have numerous episodes where it was a terrible thing. This caused the child to be very sickly, and unable to ward off the slightest infection. A lot of food allegies he also possesed.

Jerry and Carolyne did their best to both rear and care for his medical needs. It wasn’t at all easy caring for him in the beginning, because of the trailer’s terrible condition. The dampness bothered the child immensely. He wheezed and coughed up phlem all the time during the first six years of his life. During all of this, the father had equally been cruel and sadistic towards his small son.

He often became very angry with Allen, because of his total disinterest in food. He would slap his mouth and force him to eat. Carolyne had always intervened. She screamed at her mate for the terrible things he was doing. He often labeled little Allen as being annorexic. Which was something the little one had no idea as to his label’s meaning. Still, he hated the word. The older he got, the more he hated it. He used to spit at his father in an angry, but childish gesture in response to this. The boy also had a flair for speaking. He was extremely extroverted, which was something Jerry himself had never been allowed to be while growing up. This was considered to be a very bad thing that was looked upon with shame.

During the first four years of Allen’s life, the boy was literally made into a total mute. Every time Allen spoke or laughed too loudly while playing, his abusive guardian would either slap him hard across the face, or, he would point his index finger at the child’s eyes and would angrily bounce it up and down repeatedly. He would say, Don’t you dare talk. You talk too much, do ya hear me?! If you say anything more without my permission, you can get yourself a new family. This caused Allen to shriek and scream only without words. However, his eyes spoke for the child. They would become cold and black, as they stared up at this tall thin man staring down at him. Finger pointing in his face. His soul throbbed with such a deep feeling of hate towards this one man. Allen knew it was his parent, his caregiver. However, in Allen’s eyes he was neither one of these.

Carolyne would forever come between the two. She knew that Allen’s childhood was fiercely being destroyed. Jerry would not bend to his wife’s pleas. She had been accidentally smacked around herself because she tried to shield Allen from his constant hitting. The boy could do nothing, and nothing right in his father’s eyes. By the time Allen grew to the age of six, he no longer spoke at all. He had been terribly molded into someone afraid of his own shadow. The model prisoner. Or, was he?

Allen was no longer even a child, though he was in body and age. Within, he was twisted with pain and throbbing resentment. Hate and nothing but the wish to avenge himself. Forever wrenched, the very fibers of his spirit. Even his mother had not noticed anything yet. For his mother was the only positive force within his life. She cared for him, but about him as well. Carolyne was always there to comfort him, and cradle him. For Allen had never received any physical contact but from that of his mother. Because of this, Allen respected and idolized her. He made a promise to himself, even at age six, that he would never cause harm to his mother. In Allen’s eyes, she was everything. She cried a lot herself during those times when Jerry was away at the small hospital, or when she thought she was alone.

Carolyne spent a lot of time outside anyway due to her deep love of the natural world. She felt mostly at peace whenever she would cry outwardly. The large wood pile was a spot where she would sit. Not just to shed tears, but to reflect. Carolyne couldn’t really grasp onto her objectiveness concerning her husband’s atrocious behavior anymore. Her heart broke every time she thought of the things he had done and caused. Now Allen does not speak, or cry. He only cries within. Whenever he should fail or get hurt at play or accident, silent tears fell from the child’s little face. He’s been alone all of his short life. The next home was only an eighth of a mile away, but it too was nestled in the woods. To a little child, it was an eternity. To Carolyne it was equally as far. She dared not venture far into those thick woods because of the threat of alligators. She always kept a wary eye on her son. She saw that Allen also loved the woods and nature. Her greatest fear concerning this, was that Allen may venture into them and would get lost never finding his way out again. Jerry never once worried about him once he turned three. She just could not understand. Her heart begged God to help her find this elusive answer.

Allen started school when he was in his sixth year anyway. He was not frightened or bewildered like nearly all other childre concerning this partial separation from homelife. He was driven out to the school by his mother for the first week. The following week he waited for the bus. It was a three mile drive from the boy’s house. As said, Allen no longer spoke. He never even uttered a sound. This caused the boy to become even more withdrawn. He was a painfully lonely boy forced to dwell in a world of silence and an invisible prison of isolation.

From the time Allen aged three years, he had already become old with depression and guilt. It was continuously being programmed within his psyche that he was no good, just because he was sick. Also since then, the boy walked with his head down. His black hair parted at the middle of his head and fell over his ears. But in this nearly constant stance, that dark hair fell into his eyes. Just like now on his way to school. A child filled with the unshakable weight of his anger, pain resentment, and guilt. Guilt for just being made.

Not many children were drawn to Allen Shaw, because of his muteness. He loved to play. To run mostly. Probably to rid himself of the years of repressed enegy. However, it was certainly no riddle to unravel concerning his teachers, that he was a victim. Still, despite the stark evidence of the boy’s withdrawn behavior and the bruises on his face, hands, and arms, no one went to Allen’s defence. Other than his mother, no one seemed to care about Allen Shaw.

The mental abuse never subsided, but by the time he aged seven the phsyical abuse suddenly ceased. Both mother and son were equally glad of this. Still, however, when it came time to eat it was nearly always a horror show. Allen was painfully thin, tho the episodes of flare-ups of his diseas were much less now. Still, he would always have the illness. He tried very much to get enough into him. He often gave in to the rageful outbursts of his father’s wishes. He was actually forced fed.

His father grabbed Allen while at the table from behind. Jerry would force his arm around the boy’s head , putting his thimb into his mouth to hold his jaw open. He shoved food forcefully into the boy’s tiny mouth. He nearly suffocated his son several times, by blocking the airway with so much food. Each time this was done to Allen, something snapped in his mind. He became disassociated and was no longer aware of his surroundings or his situation. Only one thought would ever creep into his mind. I will KILL him someday, when I get big and strong.

Allen’s mind was rapidly changing. He would dream about piercing his father with a knife, or slashing him up with his father’s chain saw as he lay helpless on the floor of their trailer. He was secretly obsessed with the thoughts of murder and annihilation of his one enemy. His heart would race as he anticipated the following years when he grew older. He wanted to become physically powerful so he could end the horror that forever pierced his heart and mind every hour of his life. Even the gift of slumber could no longer serve as a temporary respite from this man’s abuse.

He often watched intently as his father cut wood with his chain saw. Allen always had an acute sense of drawn fascination with this marvelous cutting machine. As a younger child, he would always ask his mother if she could open the prefabicared shed his father erected some years earlier. He wanted to look at the chain saw. She always obliged , because she wanted to make the little one happy. Though what he wanted to see was only a tool, it did make the child smile. He would touch it and run his tiny hands over the housing of the motor. But, almost in an affectionate way. The cutting chain he would touch equally in this manner. Carolyne often thought this was a strange fascination, but like an objective and loving parent, she figured it would pass in time.

Sadly, Carolyne was mistaken. Although he no longer asked his mother to open the shed for a look, he still continued to think of this powerful cutting tool that his father posessed. His bedroom, though quite small, was rapidly becoming disarrayed like that of the boy’s mind. It was full of cut-out pictures of monsters and even chain saws from store advertisements. He cut them out and pasted them onto cardboard cuttings from boxes that housed some of the junk belonging to his father. Allen had always noticed that his father never once minded giving away his discarded items to him. In the boy’s mind, his father thought of him as nothing but dicarded debris. Which in fact was only a small reality.

As just mentioned, Allen’s bedroom was rapidly representing the changing world inside of his head. His rollaway cot which was his bed, had no longer been made. His loving mother understood, so she allowed the boy to slack on his bedroom chores for a while. His old wooden bureau was as said, covered with strange pictures of monsters from horror films and advertisements of chain saws. The many drawers in the bureau were never closed anymore as the clothes hung out of them. He did not own many things, but they were slathered all about. Even under the cot his dirty clothes lay in a large heap. The wall-to-wall carpet was the worst in Allen’s bedroom, due to his father not cutting it. It was very moldy and his mother often opened the one window to let the air inside, and the odor out. However, the air in this room was usually not dry, but highly humid and warm. Like the ceiling tiles in the rest of the trailer, they were equally as bad here. They buckled and bulged , as they revealed numerous dark brown water stains. The stains continued their path down two of the walls in the boy’ bedroom. They gave off the appearance of steamy watery dribbles running down the length of the paneled walls. Mold often crept up due to the forever present moisture behind the paneling. As well as from the condensation of the metal exterior of the trailer. Carolyne would arduously try every few days to clean it up with disinfectant to kill the mold spores. Allen breathed this in his lungs every night of his life, which had contributed to numerous infections and even near asphyxiation in his infant years. The one window was always dirty with spattered mud, but again Carolyne would do her best to clean thing sup for the sake of her son’s health. There was one corner in Allen’s room near the window that was so moist and warm, it would all but totally give way whenever one should put the slightest among of weigh on it. So Allen would not get hurt, Carolyne merely peeled down the area of beaten down carpet so he would be able to see the weakness in the boards. It was a disgusting sight. The wide wooden floor boards were splintered and green with mold. Brown patches of God knows what splattered through out this exposed area. The peeled back piece of carpet was literally scraped away to replace. The elusive odor resembled human urine, but Allen never urinated anywhere but in the toilet. Either way, it was a constant risk to the family’s health living here.

On the subject of health. Lately, Allen refused to bathe himself much anymore. Most boys go through this kind of thing more than girls anyway. However, with Allen it was totally different. It was both a childish and primitive way of rebelling. He even portrayed some primitive behavior, like chewing violently on his bed pillow. Allen would furiously bite down into the folds of the pillowcase and the pillow inside. He would crinkle his brow and squint his black eyes as they suddenly went into a cold wild gaze. The heartwrenching agony he forever felt pulsating inside him would suddenly shut itself off, as if like a tap. Taking its place, was a primal rage that only the very few had ever experienced in the minds of modern man. His spirit became engulfed with the repressed desire to destroy his enemy. But now without warning, he just wanted to destroy. Destroy and put an end to anything that erupted into his way. Whether it be a living or nonliving thing. Allen would then rapidly thrash his head from side to side. Never letting up on his fierce grip of the bed pillow. It felt good to him to bite with his teeth. It was a way of releasing his unbridled rage that literally twisted and gorged at every fiber of his being, and every breath of his spirit. Still despite all this, Allen had so far never uttered a singe word since he was turned age four.

Allen drew a lot of things as well…only he kept them in his small bedroom. They were ghastly drawings of blood and murder. There was one picture the boy hung up above his rollaway cot. It was a stark drawing of a doctor bathed in a sea of bright red blood. He bore hard with the red crayon. He even drew a bad rendition of his father’s chain saw cutting through the man’s head. The way he taped it up above the cot, signified that Allen was proud of this drawing. More proud of it against all the others. It was his trophy signifying a triumph of both the inner and outer life of little Allen Shaw.

Chapter Four

Carolyne was naturally concerned for her child’s mental and physical welfare. She tried hard to fill the void in her son in which her mate had long created. The woman, as said, was very strong spirited and had carried a deep faith in the All Mighty. Lately, she had been wearing a silver crucifix around her brawny neck for a sense of comfort, and to derive strength. Which is something she had always done. As for her husband, well that’s another subject.

She certainly had reached her limit concerning her husband, Jerry. Her objectiveness rapidly crumbled lately. She couldn’t stand it anymore. Especially the way he labels the boy with that stupid and totally uncalled for name. An annorexic. Oh, man!, Carolyne thought. She was more than exasperated concerning her child’s eating habits. The child was born with a lung disease and it causes numerous other problems. Particularly with absorption and the proper metabolizing of foods. Carolyne loved Allen very dearly. The woman was so damn tired of everything concerning the man. Carolyne often toyed with the idea of leaving him, but she figured it would be too hard on Allen. Still, she was not a stupid woman. Carolyne was all too well aware of the child’s supressed hatefulness towards his father. Only she had no idea of the depth of the child’s disapproval.

In school, Allen managed to learn to write, despite his forced muteness. So no one would know, Carolyne had written on his school registration form that he could not speak. However, Allen was perfectly capable of learning things. He appeared to be too smart for his own good. Meaning he was able to be more aware of self expression. Also, he appeared to posess great mechanical abilities, which would prove themselves very useful later on in his life. Still however, he was not well liked in the public school. Despite his great sense of anger, Allen never revealed anything outwardly. He wanted so desperately to speak and become once again, that happy extroverted child he was meant to be. However, Allen continued to experience that feeling continuously enforced by his father, that talking is not a good thing. The cinstant masterminding over him was literally tearing the boy apart. He hated feeling that way, but in a most intense manner. His mind was constantly writhing in a silent stirring pain that few children his age ever feel. Allen was literally stagnating within. He felt that he could not grow any further. Allen’s once flowing individualism had slowly been uprooted. Uprooted to the point it could never grow back.

Allen’s lonliness and feelings of helplessness were driving the boy to the breaking point. He had always walked around the outer perimeter of the vast woodland around their property. One afternoon, his mother had gone out with her one girlfriend she’s had since high-school. They drove off in Carolyne’s old Chevy down the narrow clay dirt road that meandered into town.

The boy had become quite accustomed to being on his own. He preferred it anyway. The sun was up high in the sky and gave off some pretty intense heat. Allen wore a white T-shirt with his badly torn blue jeans. Allen preferred to wear his wide selection of button down shirts. Most things he owned were ripped because of his harsh playing, but it was his loving mother who had always taken time to mend his garments. His little work boots he loved to wear regardless of the weather. One really needs a lot of foot protection out here. Especially where there are snakes, fireants, and such.

He decided to take advantage of no one around for a time. Allen merely made his way to the deep woods on his own. Even his sense of love for nature was slowly disappearing, because of his father’s mental cruelty. Allen sloughed through another area of the woods he had never seen. Though Allen did not take in the beauty of the wild scenery, it truely was a beautiful landscape. Towering tall Oaks and Pines were allaround as they reached up to the sky. They appeared to reach up to eternity with their straightness. In fact, the amount of trees was staggering to the eye. One really had to take the time to pace themselves and recognize various landmarks. It would be extremely easy to get lost in wilderness like this.

Vines and creepers covered nearly everything as well as the trees. The beautiful heart shaped leaves of the stangulating vines were highly visible due to them being so large and growing in the wild. The ground was equally vine covered, but patches of unclaimed area were scattered about. The dirt was moist and revealed all kinds of plants making up the ecosystem of the forest. He was not yet near the swamp area, but he hoped to make it there when he became bigger. He knew from his parents that it was quite a ways away. In Allen’s mind, he partially thought that by making it to the far distant swamp, his father would perhaps become proud of him. But at the very same time, he could really care less. Obviously the child was fiercely torn at both directions, but with equal strength. After going through the now unfamiliar woods a while, he stopped to gain his mental bearings. The sounds of the crickets in her were very loud. Mole crickets, especially. That was one sound that this hardening and bitter boy truely loved. An occasional bird would sing or fly about the canopy of near tropical zone of the state. A rustle in the leaves and the underbrush also grasped onto his acute senses. An other one. And an other, but soon quiet regained itself. Allen stood in awe in that was all about him. Every inch of his beaten spirit seemed to leap and cry out for a means of escaping into this wild land. To be one with it. But again, the other side of Allen angrily silenced this ambitious child’s unselfish desires. He slowly spun around in a circle and stared now blankly, at this beautiful and unspoiled world around him. His eyes became shrouded in darkness that was reminiscent of a cold and bleak wintery landscape. Devoid of warmth and life. The little one was very deeply confused and was becoming further twisted into a knot of bleakness and painful solitude. Despite all this, Allen was suddenly realizing he was feeling safe while here. He realized that he couldn’t be detected here. Especially from his father. A tiny glimmer of fearlessness and confidence overtook his mind. His once hanging head and pain filled eyes, miraculously changed into a boy filled with desire. However, the terrible evidence of the irreversible damage done to him by his father, could not be reckoned with. Even at this superficial level. That’s just what it had been. A vaneer only. The child’s way of compensating himself against all of the atrocities his one parent had done.

He eventually turned around to make his way back home. The boy was not at all frightened at the thought of losing his way. Allen somehow lavished on the thoughts of misfortune and suffering. Only not on himself. He slowly, but confidently, trampled his return journey back towards the trailer. A large carpet of dry, fallen leaves had been one of his recalled landmarks.l They crinkled beneath his feet, while some of them slid upwards and landed on the top of his work boots. Another rustle in the leaves near by caught his ear, but he was not fazed at all. Obviously, this child was rarely swayed by fear. Particularly of the unknown. After a time the woods began to thin themselves out revealing the wide open grassy field serving as their land. He made it back. The trailer rapidly came into view the further he approached the end of the tree line. He wasn’t even soiled, due to his not falling down or wanting to play. Rather, it was the very refuge he had been looking for all his life, other than through the arms of his mother. Still though he was experiencing this sense, his tragic programming would not permit him to emerge from that coldness that had already taken a firm grip on the boy. He was in the process of perishing mentally. He was starving for affection from his father, but sadly he would never get it. The yearnfulness with the boy was staggering. His mind and spirit we equally as impoverished as his lively hood was. The boy now wished to go back into those vast untouched woods again and again. He so much wanted to know them. Maybe even live in them. Like a cool woodsman, Allen thought excitedly.

He walked back to the trailer which was still empty. The sun was now making its way to the other side of the sky. Some fair weather clouds were now rolling in. He was hot and thirsty, so he opened the old nasty refrigerator. He got himself a cold drink. It tasted good as it trickled down his hot and dusty throat. Aaahh, Allen gasped in a joyous response to the cooling treat. The first sound he made from his mouth since aged four years.

Allen would sometimes converse on paper the things he wanted to say, but only with his mother. As said, Allen truely adored his mother and silently vowed to himself that he would never harm her. He had nothing but respect and a feeling of deep love for her. He had written to his mother that he had ventured deeper into the woods to check things out. However, he never revealed that he had recently experienced emotions of some