Whisper Down the Lane: A Novel by Clay Chapman

Author:Clay Chapman [Chapman, Clay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B085BT8G7K
Publisher: Quirk Books
Published: 2021-04-05T23:00:00+00:00

DAMNED IF YOU DON’T

 RICHARD: 2013

“Tamara?”

“…yeah?” she manages, her eyelids fluttering open. “Don’t forget to…” she starts, but she’s already gone. Tamara never has any problems passing out. I envy her ability to turn off at night. We’ll lie on our backs and chat for the last few breaths before sleep takes her away.

Now I’m on my own. In bed. Alone.

Liar.

An arched window looks out onto the backyard where the tree swing had been. Our bedroom is a triangular converted attic space with sloping ceilings. It’s like living in the tip of a pyramid. I’ve knocked my head on the wooden beams plenty of times. There’s not much room for furniture up here. We’ve had to make do with a shared dresser that juts out a few inches from the wall, thanks to the slant of the eaves. There are only a handful of picture frames perched on top. A photo from our wedding. Another of her family. I don’t have any photos.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” My voice is barely above a whisper. Tamara doesn’t answer. “I need to come clean.”

Isn’t that what Miss Kinderman always said?

Don’t you want to be clean?

Imagine a fib you told as a child. A little white lie. Now imagine that lie taking on a life of its own. Imagine having no control over it. If you ever did. Imagine it spreading. Growing. Imagine the consequences of that lie affecting everyone in your life. Imagine it consuming everything around you—your teachers, friends, family—until there’s nobody left.

No one to love you. Imagine that lie haunting you for the rest of your life, following you no matter how far you run away from it.

Sean Crenshaw was five when he told his mother his kindergarten teacher abused him. She told the authorities, who roped in more adults. All these unfamiliar faces surrounding Sean wanted, needed his story to be true. Remember, this was 1983. Think about the country back then. Think of the Russians infiltrating our water systems. Think of the white van without windows rolling down the street at night, trawling for kids. Think about Dungeons & Dragons and the witchcraft it possessed. Think about the incantations backtracked on your Black Sabbath album. Think about the direct line to the devil and the new slew of 1-900 numbers kids could dial up. Think about The Smurfs and the other animated incubuses sneaking into your home through the cathode portal of your TV screen. Think of the wave of paranoia sweeping the nation, riding a tide of Coca-Cola and holy crusaders sobbing on the airwaves.

Everybody felt it. The lies. The deception of our pastors, our politicians. There was always this sense that someone you knew, or thought you knew, wasn’t who they said they were.

Sean was never alone now. He had an audience. He had believers, followers hanging on his every word. He became a star witness. As more adults asked him different versions of the exact same question, feeding him key details, the boy repeated whatever he thought these adults wanted to hear.

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