Last summer, I attended my family reunion. One of my more privileged aunts was having us stay in her huge house over the weekend. My family doesn't really get along all that much so having this was a momentous occasion for us. I'm 30 and I don't ever remember having any kind of family gathering or barbecues. My mom doesn't like socializing with her sisters but does well with her brothers. For years, there was a distance within the family that I never understood when I was growing up; figured it was just how my family was. What I thought was resentment toward one another was actually an avoidance of an issue. Not until this last summer, I was completely oblivious to the fact that I had an uncle named Charlie that had been murdered when he was 12. Apparently, my mom's family never quite came to terms with that and blamed one another for his death for decades.
Maybe it was the dry heat of the summer night that made my uncle do it or perhaps it was the mundane conversations we were all having but as we were sitting around the dinner table my Uncle James decided to bring up Charlie. "I know I'm probably the least liked from our brothers but I'm glad we're all here again...together." He took a moment to himself before continuing, "I miss Charlie though. There isn't a day that goes by I don't and having us all here again just reminds me of him."
His eyes swelled up just a bit and at that moment, the room fell deathly silent and a collective morbid anxiety swept through everyone. I had no idea who Charlie was or why everyone took a slightly shocked look when he was mentioned. I felt the anxiety too even though I didn't understand the situation. I decided to ask who Charlie was as to alleviate the tension, and in the midst of the uncomfortable silence I sliced the silent air with, "So who's Charlie?" My uncle looked at me with endearing eyes and replied, "he's your uncle, Timothy and he would be fours younger than..." and he suddenly got interrupted by my Aunt Elizabeth's burst of tears as she said in a shaky voice, "that's enough, I don't want to talk about Charlie, we've all been down that road and have squandered years and years of blame on it. I don't want the evening ruined by that same blaming game we've done for so many years." Awkwardness rushed over everyone and you could hear the subtle ambiance of the room settle as we all avoided eye contact.
It wasn't until later that night when we had all gone to our small social circles that my uncle James came up to me and asked if I still wanted to know more about Charlie. I was obviously very curious but having seen my aunt burst into tears earlier at dinner made me apprehensive to say yes. I didn't really know what to say but before I could answer yes or no he started to tell me how Charlie had been murdered behind my grandma's house. I became instantly intrigued by this family secret as soon as he said murder. I had no idea about Charlie or his death and didn't know if I should continue but the reunion was becoming so boringly mundane that I had jumped at this opportunity to actually hear an interesting story.
He started by describing my grandma's house. I had never seen it since they had apparently moved away soon after Charlie's death. It was a white two story house that had a front porch and a gravel driveway. In the back, was a large yard that ended at a line of trees which led to a small forested area. He said beyond the backyard deep in that wooded area was a small shack where they had found Charlie. By this point in the story, we had furthered ourselves from the rest of the family as he continued so no one would hear us.
He continued the tale with every word seemingly relieving pressure from his soul. He said they found Charlie hung up upside down inside the shack gutted and chopped into pieces. He was missing both his arms and one of his legs. The top half of his head was also missing. They later identified his body with dental records since his lower jaw was still attached to his body. My grandpa was the one who found him when they went searching. My grandpa had became an alcoholic after this and died therein choking on his vomit as he sat in his car passed out and I understand now the reason for it.
My uncle had captured my morbid curiosity. I was completely engrossed with the story and somehow, since I didn't actually know Charlie, the tale didn't feel quite real to me and just sounded like a good scary story. Little did I know how real my fear would be or how much pain that cold shiver of horror would be that ran up my spine after I read the letter.
They never found out who did it. To this day its still a mystery to the family but the weirdest part my uncle said was the letter they found in the front mailbox by the road weeks later typed as if Charlie had written it. They don't know who sent it or where it came from it was simply signed "Sincerely, Joseph." The Police analyzed it but it was a dead end. The killer had taken some special care as to not leave any clues behind on that letter. I don't know how but my uncle had a copy of the letter that he gave to me. Upon grabbing it he held it for a second, clutching it and as I looked at his face I realized he blamed himself for Charlie's death. His eyes began to tear up and he confessed to me that on that particular day he had told Charlie to go play with what he thought was an imaginary friend named Joseph because he was too busy reading comics. The whole family knew of Joseph but all thought he was some imaginary friend. They never found out who Joseph was.
"Hi mom,
You remember my best friend named Joseph right? We used to play in the woods together. Playing together makes the cold days go by a little easier and Joseph's the greatest. He's so cool and always knows the right things to say. I was a tender fat little kid and Joseph showed me that I didn't need any other friends beside him. I used to always want to play 'war' using sticks for guns but Joseph never wanted to play that, said that was a kids game and he was too old to play that. He always wanted to hang around that shed deep in the woods. No one else knew where it was beside us. I never went in it because Joseph didn't let me.
One autumn day though, Joseph decided it was time for him to share his secrets with me but to do that we needed to become blood brothers. At first I was scared because I didn't know what it meant or how to do it but he explained it to me. He always knew everything. We had to cut our hands and let the blood exchange as we put pressure on it by clasping them together. I didn't like the idea of hurting myself but the blood didn't bother me. So we did it.
Joseph felt like now he could show me his secrets. I was thrilled because now I was Joseph's blood brother and I was allowed to enter the shed and learn his secrets. We walked deep into the woods, crunching on the leaves with our foot steps as we delved further into the orange autumn day of the woods. I was excited to see what secrets he would show me.
When we got to the shed Joseph had to unlock a huge heavy lock he kept on the door. The door was heavy and creaked a lot when he opened it. The shed was really dark. Joseph turned on a gas lamp he kept inside and as my eyes adjusted I could see blood smeared on the wooden walls. There were jars with tinted yellow liquid and body parts in them resting on the shelves. Heavy hooks were hanging from the ceiling and on the work table there were fingers separated from hands. The far wall had pieces of arms and legs nailed to it.
I felt lucky to be seeing this. I asked Joseph what was in the small jars with the body parts and he said vinegar. He was soaking the meat in vinegar for flavor and tenderness he said. I looked around curiously and felt proud of myself to be here with Joseph. I considered this a great privilege. I was Joseph's blood brother and I did whatever he wanted.
Once he started gutting me at my neck to my belly I felt as if I had been released and given freedom. He thrust the knife into my neck at a perfect downward 45 degree angle and sliced down my belly. He then hung me upside down on one those heavy hooks hanging from the ceiling to bleed me out. Then started scraping a thin layer of my skin off to remove most of the small hair and boiled my head to soften the hard tufts of hair on my scalp so he could cut it off easier.
I bled out quickly for Joseph and didn't give him any sour meat. He removed my internal organs, my fat and my head. He cut off my head first to allow any residual blood to drain. He first made a cut all the way across the back of my neck, right at the backbone's initial joint. Then he severed my windpipe so that my head could drop forward for easy removal. He continued cutting around my ears, to my eyes, and to my jawbone, he cut me like that so my head could come free but leave my jowls on my body.
Next he stuck his knife deep into my front neck wound with its point against my backbone and cut upward, using the blade to split my breastbone and divide the rib cage. He opened me up and cut through the wall of my belly letting my innards fall forward. They were still attached however by muscle and stomach lining. He cut it away and started to cut into my lean meat and fat. The best parts of me. I was looking very delicious for Joseph. I had plenty of good tender meat on my fat little body and I did not disappoint.
He cut me into pieces and slices of prime cut and wrapped them all in butcher paper. After he finished collecting his meat, Joseph locked up his shed and went back to his van and headed to his apartment where he put me in a pan with potatoes, carrots, chicken broth and other vegetables. He used the tougher cuts of my meat and slow cooked it over low heat. The lower heat melts the tough connections between muscle fibers leaving him with tender meat that flaked at his fork. I was every bit delicious as Joseph had hoped. He prepared me as a dinner for royalty, I felt so honored. He ate me on his best dinner plate under a candle lit table and had a glass of '87 pinot noir. After he finished eating me he saved the rest for the week. Joseph ate extravagantly for a few weeks with the meat I provided. He left the rest of my body for the family.
Sincerely, Joseph."
No comments:
Post a Comment