Abraham Lincoln Must Die by Morris James

Author:Morris, James [Morris, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2015-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

Author’s Note: All that has been reported here

came from anecdotes and collected tellings from

pubs and in certain cases, lunatic asylums.

Initiation

Night had barely fallen when two hikers spotted a young boy running naked through the woods. He thrashed wildly, tumbling down the trails of Griffith Park, all limbs and urgency. Moments later, the angry spotlight of a police chopper circled the area until the teen fell in its crosshairs. He wasn’t more than twelve or thirteen, the hair around his sex a mere shadow of what it would become. The teen cut right, then left, trying to evade the light, but it was no use. Instead, he lost his footing and plunged down the hill, falling headfirst and rolling like the agony of defeat until he landed near a rotting stump. Scraped and dazed, the boy stood up only to find himself bathed in light from two squad cars.

He shivered like a frightened animal as flashlights blinded him from two silhouetted figures. They asked him questions he had trouble understanding. The boy refused to give his name, age or location of his parents. Not because he was streetwise and trying to stay out of trouble—just the opposite. The boy simply didn’t know his own name. Or more exactly, couldn’t remember. But the boy’s obstinacy frustrated the officers and they ribbed him about his acne, lanky frame and exposed manhood, such as it was.

At the Wilcox police station, they shoved a small tube in his mouth and told him to blow on it. The Breathalyzer came up negative. One officer figured the kid had mental problems. Kids today were like monsters, running amok, their scheduled play dates and coddling coming home to roost once they crossed into double-digits. Spending the night in the pen might scare him straight.

The officer took the boy’s finger and rubbed it in ink, but his finger left no imprint. He repeated the procedure with the same result. On closer inspection, the officer saw that the boy’s fingers were as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Milky white and empty.

The officer approached the bars of the cell. “You on any medication, son?”

The boy looked up, now clothed in a jumpsuit too large for his size. The pant bottoms touched the floor. His eyes like saucers. The words people spoke started to make sense. “No, sir.”

At least the kid had some manners. The officer continued, “What were you running from out there?”

“Some kinda animals. They were chasing me. Like they were trying to trap me.”

“What kind of animals?”

“It was dark. They were growling. I didn’t get a good look.” The boy seemed genuinely scared. Maybe the officer had pegged him wrong.

“If they were chasing you, why didn’t you stop for the police?”

“I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to get away.”

“Why were you running in your birthday suit?” The officer snickered. “Or did they eat your clothes?”

“Wish I knew.” He’d never been more embarrassed in his life. Puberty was a minefield of confusion, drop-of-a-hat erections, and strange mating rituals to comprehend, but to share his privates in front of God and everyone? It was almost criminal.

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