Chapter 1-page 4:The mysterious figure

The rainstorm disintegrated, and now everything was calm and peaceful as if the day is aware that in a little while, it will disappear and swallowed up by the rising night. It appears the city went into a slumber like Cinderella and that the prince will not show up and kiss even a frog jumping and croaking. The ominous black skies lit up again by sharp white lightning like the eye of the devil, and the tremendous deafening thunder infiltrated every house, causing its inhabitants to shrink in their places in terror because of the weather or maybe because of the news. At that same time, on the other side of the city. Benji Aronson sat with his eyes blindfolded with a black rag on a dirty mattress lying on an old rusty iron bed that creaked like the sound of an off-tune violin playing the shiver that went down his boyish shriveled body. He whimpered in a choked and terrified voice.

"Help! ...What is this place!!...Help…. I’m scared!!"

He is in a large dark and moldy room that looks like an old cellar or a hideaway. The room had no windows, but it had several tiny rusty air vents. Wooden creaky and moldy stairs that located on the side of the room disappeared in a dark nook and led to a trap door on the wooden floor that connected the house above it to the concealed room lit by a shaky oil lamp that spread a weak and frightening light that warped the shape of the room. Shadows inside emphasized grotesquely and surrealistically every object and detail contained in the terror chamber. The smell of rotting and mold felt everywhere, but surprisingly the objects in the room were in an ordered and organized manner on the old bookcase standing adjacent to the wall and facing the old bed. On the top shelf of the furniture were placed children’s clothes, boys, and girls between 5-10 years old (shorts, and pants, skirts and dresses, shirts, cotton sweats, and boys and girl’s underwear). On the bottom, the shelves were sandals, shoes, boots, and boys’ and girls’ socks. The walls that were filthy with soot, and different stains and weird graffiti decorated the walls, along with sayings from Psalms and drawings of little angles. Where the walls and ceiling met old and rust pipes could be seen that had a green shade used to heat the room in the past and perhaps even the present. An old tape placed on a ruined chair played hymns and masses where children’s choirs could continuously hear singing angelically. Benji, the boy that sat on the bed, suddenly stopped whimpering, and his eyes grew wild fear when he noticed a blurry male figure coming down the stairs into the room. The character is wearing a big black student’s coat, and the hood of the jacket conceals its face. The figure held a thick burning candle and placed it on the shelf by the wall as Benji retreated fearfully. An iron chain hooked on the one hand to the wall, and the other to his wrist prevented him from moving and obliterated any thought of escape. The man reached out to Benji and whispered.

"Come on! Come to daddy. Daddy wants to educate you!"

Benji retreated as far back as he could and protected his fragile shaking body with his hands. The man clung to Benji, tried to hug him softly, stroked his hair affectionately, and didn’t notice that he moved the rag on his eyes a bit. So Benji succeeded barely to see the details of the pervert…where he was trapped…and the pervert’s car where he later has taken. Benji screamed at him.

"Don’t touch me… don’t do the bad things you have done to me. I want home!! I want my mother!" Suddenly Benji kicked his leg, and the man screamed in pain, shocked and surprised.

"You are a bad boy son…this this the way to behave with daddy … Daddy should punish you!" 

He grabbed a thick rope lying on the floor and began hitting Benji vigorously and systematically on his back and chest. Benji screamed in suffer and pain.

"Stop it…it hurts"...sobbing hysterically "you are a bad man….you are a monster!"

The man stopped for a moment, looked at Benji in rage, and whispered.

"I’m a monster? Me? The father who loves and cares for you? You are a disgusting little undisciplined monster...it’s time to discipline you". Benji felt the worst was about to come. He feared the monster decided to kill him and cried out in fear.

"Don’t kill me. I’ll do whatever you want. I beg you, don’t kill me".

The man did not react to Benji’s pleas and seemed to be in a kind of trance as he joined the choir of children sounding from the tape on the crumbling shelf. The man was in ecstasy when Benji cries, scream from the pain, and loses consciousness. He continued weeping as he soaks a rag that didn’t look clean in the bowl of water by the bed and patiently and softly cleaned the blood spots on Benji as he worriedly checks the pulse in Benji’s wrist and neck.

"Are you OK? Thank god you’re alive.my beloved son has learned a valuable lesson, my dear son! I was so worried for you!" and he starts laughing loudly.

By the light of the candle near the water bowl, the man’s face now seems blurry. A beard and mustache covered his face; think feminine sunglasses hid his eyes. He stopped whimpering, walked up to a small closet by the other side of the room, and again looked at Benji, whose body began to move and seem like he began returning to consciousness. He opened the closet slowly. Inside the closed were hats of different kinds and colors, dark sunglasses in several types, beards, and mustaches apart and attached. He began removing the beard and mustache, and only his gleaming sweaty bald head seen from the back. A strong gust of wind blowing from the air vents extinguished the candle and hid the pervert’s identity. A pouring rain began again as the man disappeared up the nook. On the empty roads, police cars continuously seen like mice in a labyrinth.

In the landfill that borders on route 38 and its scents that known to all those who pass by, José, a 40-year-old homeless Mexican, cleaned his humble abode located in the shaky and cracked shed just a few steps away from the famous landfill. The walls of the shed and its roof made of tin and old trees; the hut is miserable and shaky, its creaking walls doing the samba at the tone of the wind. Inside the shed are two old tables joined together and five different chairs scattered around the table and a scruffy velvet sofa with various colored cushions. A radio stands on the table, creaking out the news reports. The massive garbage trucks enter the site loudly and unload their load noisily and then left empty. José hummed a melancholic garbage song that revealed his continuous sensation that life sucks and everybody stinks as he sweeps the floor of the shed and laying a wrinkled and filthy tablecloth on the table…"Brrr… it’s so cold "….frustratingly "in the winter at home there are a lot of chicks; here at home, I have a lot of garbage! Brrr…it’s so Cold"

José mumbled as his teeth chatter like a couple of castanets of an excited flamenco dancer. The miserable creature wore out from the burden of life, which did not smile at him. He lay on the antic velvet sofa. José is curled up and shaking like a drugged porcupine inside his old patchy blankets, which helped in this cold like aspirin to a dead man. His hand is turning blue from the cold. He is wearing a soft wool glove that stretches towards the old radio that lays by his head and switches the radio on. His fingers are shaking like those Parkinson’s patient flip on the switch, and a squeaky voice heard from the speaker announcing the start of the newscast.

"Good afternoon to our listeners. The time is 5 pm and here is the main news by Jack Morris…seven-year-old Benjamin Aronson of Queens disappeared at noon on his way back from school on Jamaica Ave. To his home on Shaker St. after it was made clear that he was not with his classmates or neighborhood friends. He is 1.20m, chubby, has long shoulder-length hair, the color of honey, and green eyes. The police suspect the boy was apprehended by the mysterious criminal called "the singing pervert" and anyone with information or seen anything suspicious on Jamaica Ave. between 12 and 2 pm is requested to arrive at the nearest police station or call"

José switched off the radio, cursing loudly and vehemently." Perverts!! The best thing is to put a bullet in his head …no trial needed."

the rain continued pouring mercilessly, swallowed into the earth that hungry for water and insatiable. The bright sign of the McDonald’s on Jamaica Ave revealed in all its glory. Looking like the eighth wonder of the world in the stormy weather. Surprisingly, there were five hungry diners inside. A six-year-old girl walked up to the entrance carrying a school bag on her shoulder and wearing layers of warm clothes looking like an Eskimo. She looked hungrily at the giant picture of a bun with a hamburger inside it that Gulliver ate in Lilliput and almost swallowed her tongue. Facing the entrance, in a dark and concealed corner of the building stood a man wearing a wide hat and a long raincoat. The tall and thin stranger peered at the girl and moved back into the darkness as the girl turned her head fearfully in his direction. The girl entered the restaurant and ordered a hamburger while the stranger observing her from his hideaway seemed to be brewing dark schemes sent towards the innocent girl like the tentacles of a giant octopus and increased the cold, fear, and anxiety brewing at the dark heart of the gloomy weather. The stranger walked slowly and stealthily to the glass window of the restaurant and watched the girl picking up the bag and walking towards the exit with a big smile of hamburger delight. The stranger moved quickly back to his dark, concealed corner. The girl slowly walked towards the bus station near the restaurant, waited, and imagined the hamburger sliding down her throat with a sigh of satisfaction as the stranger looked at her this time determinedly and began walking towards her like a starved panther seeing his prey. The scared and worried look on her face expresses the fear of the unknown. Like a mouse in a trap and the feeling that something terrifying is about to occur. As she notices the profile of the intimidating stranger. The darkness closed around her like horrible spider webs paralyzing her without being able to say a word to the smile of the angel of death smiling at her meekly and spreading his hands out welcomingly, whispering without a voice.

"Come to me! you are mine now!... come now!!!"

Suddenly a luxurious car appears and stops by the girl as the stranger forced again to hide quickly. Out of the car steps, an impressive man hugging the girl warmly. The girl hugs him back and reacts in fear, mingled with happiness.

"Hi daddy, I’m so glad you came…it is so scary here."

"Sorry …I’m so sorry I’m late. Come in the car, sweetie. Mommy and I were worried about you. Let’s go home".

The car disappears quickly and screeching, splashing dirty water and mud on the stranger following them like the look of the eagle in the sky whose prey taken from him. He bangs his right hand on the wall and begins straightening his appearance and his wet hair as he looks at his watch. Suddenly out of nowhere appears a police car stops in front of the stranger and blocks his way. If he wanted to, maybe he could have escaped in the blink of an eye, but surprisingly he didn’t, and it seems that the appearance of the police causes him to sigh impatiently. The driver of the squad car remains behind the wheel as two uniformed officers at the rank of deputy chief jump out quickly approach the stranger and face him in a way that cannot be mistaken. Suddenly the stranger hugs the two. It was Chief Michael Holmes! N.Y. police chief of Westchester County.

"Everything is OK! The girl left with her father. This girl was lucky!" Roger, one of the deputies, a brute with an impressive belly asks him disgruntled

"Well, Mike? The "singing pervert" continues to evade us… is there a new plan of action?" Wally- the second deputy storms

"When are we going to get him…I’ll do anything to get my hands on him!"

I continued hugging them affectionately, led them towards the squad car, and waved the driver, Steve, waiting patiently while the motor keeps running and sighed. Cynically

"What did you think? That he would walk up to us and turn himself in? ... Sadly, his identity is still a mystery! But we continue to use our informants and the line of questioning, continue to check, and search any lead that might bring progress in this investigation! Come on; let’s go back to the station! We’ll go over his file and see if we haven’t missed anything important".

The police car disappeared quickly with a typical squeal of the tires.