That Summer

Posted by Barbanne on January 31, 2004 at 21:43:22:

THAT SUMMER.




I was twelve years old that summer.
The summer that Margie disappeared.
Margie was my good friend. Not my best friend. But my good, good friend.
Margie was fourteen and she was very tall and had dark, waist length hair and she was ultra beautiful and ultra smart. All of us littler kids looked up to Margie and idolised her, she was what we wanted to be and what we'd never achieve. She could play guitar and sing and she was just the best netball player and she topped her classes in just about everything. I had a super sized crush on Margie.
I had a crush on Leonardo Di Caprio too, and on Jason Sweet in the boys basketball team. But Margie was different, she was unattainable, and I just loved her so much in my mixed up, pre-teen way. I didn't know whether I wanted to be Margie or whether I wanted Margie to love me or whether I just loved Margie because she was the perfect girl. But I loved her.........painfully.
And then she disappeared.


He watched the young girl coming towards him.
She was beautiful.
Way too beautiful.
She was about fourteen years old he reckoned and quite tall. Her slender body was just starting to look womanly. Her hips were there, her ass was tight and neat in a teenager girl way but its soft roundness already said woman. Her breasts were budding and filled her tee shirt in an almost unbearably erotic way. She had long, long, dark hair down to her waist and it was swishy and soft and shiny, shiny black. Her face was angelic and fabulously pretty. She had make up on and her dark eyes and red lips screamed "sex" at him. She was wearing black shorts with white hoops around the cuffs and they were some shiny, wet look material and just showed off her little ass to perfection. She had on a white tee shirt and her budding breasts poked out of it. He doubted if she had a bra on. The tee shirt was short, and flat, lean, girl tummy showed between it and her waisband. White skin, a little indented belly button.............Oh Christ, he felt his erection growing. Her long shapely legs ended in little white sox and black and white trainers. She was walking a yappy little dog on a lead.
He walked up to her...........


Charlie, that was Margie's dog, came home. She'd been walking him. But she was not with him. Mister and Mrs Chapman, Margie's mum and dad, were real worried when Charlie arrived home and Margie didn't. They rushed around to all our houses to see if she was with one of us.
She wasn't and quickly a search formed. Everyone was out looking. Us kids, me and my brother Johnny were sent to look in all the places we could think of where kids went. Mummy came with us. Daddy and Margie's Dad got in Daddy's Bronco and drove around looking. The police were there and they formed people into search parties and everyone had somewhere to look.
By nine o'clock it was dark and no-one had found anything.
I was tired. I'm a skinny, small kid and I wear these round wire eyeglasses, have done for years. My eyes were tired and so was I. Mummy decided it was time for us to go home. I was really tired and worried about Margie and I just had to sleep. When I went to bed I zonked right out.
I had horrible dreams in which Margie was lost and alone and she was in a dark place and then she called out to me and I was frightened and I must have woken up crying.
Mummy came and sat with me and I went back to sleep.


This part was very important to him.
He arranged the child's naked body on her back and he crossed her arms over each other so that the right hand was cupping the left breast and the left hand was cupping the right breast. The classic funeral parlour pose. He took his knife and cut the letters into her forehead. She was dead and there was no bleeding. It was just like cutting into meat. He stretched her legs out together and splayed her feet. He cut into her vagina.
When he was finished she looked perfect, just like the others. The number carved above her eyes in the ruined flesh of her face said six.
She was the sixth.
He put her shorts and tee shirt into the plastic bag along with her panties and bra and shoes. She had been wearing a bra, one of those young girl ones. He stripped the plastic gloves from his hands and tossed them in too. The bag went onto the back seat. he climbed in behind the wheel and drove off.
It was perfect.


I woke up the next morning and ran down and asked about Margie. Before I'd even peed or anything. Mummy said no, she hadn't been found yet, but she would soon and I was not to worry. But I did worry.
I went to school and all the other kids were talking about Margie and the teachers told us everyone was looking for her and she'd be safe soon and us kids were not to go walking alone and were not to go near any strangers at all.
That night when I got home, Mummy and Daddy took me and Johnny into the living room and told us we weren't to talk to anyone strange and we were to only go out when someone was with us. Mummy took me on her lap, it was embarrassing, I was twelve years old after all, and she told me, Barbara you're to be specially careful. I said yes I would and what if Margie didn't come home. Mummy cried a bit when that happened and hugged me tight.
A couple of days went by and then one day when I came home, Mummy took me and Johnny in and sat us down and told us that Margie was dead. She had been found and she was dead. She wouldn't tell us what happened, except it was awful and we were told again that we had to be very careful who we talked to or anything.
About a week later Margie was buried and the whole town went to her funeral. Mrs Chapman cried and cried and had to be helped everywhere, and Mister Chapman looked stern and very sad. The police chief and two of his men were there and as well as talking to the people they looked at everyone who came. I thought it was sad and when we arrived, the coffin was open and Margie was lying there and we all had to walk past and look at her and she looked different because she had lots of stuff on her face and especially on her forehead and she didn't look like Margie at all. She was very white and she didn't look like she was asleep, although Mister Makins the minister said she was sleeping before she would awaken in heaven. I thought if Margie wakes in heaven and sees all that goop on her face she'll be real pinged at that. Then I thought Margie's dead and she looks like she's dead and then they closed the coffin and she went into the incinerator to be burned up and I hated it so much I cried. I didn't make a big scene and upset Mummy or anything but I cried and couldn't stop. All the way home I cried and Johnny put his arm around me and that made me feel heaps better but I couldn't stop crying.


The cops had been there at the funeral, looking. They probably thought the killer would show up and they might spot him.
He did.
Nobody knew though.
He'd wait a while before he did the next one. No-one would ever know. How could they. He was very careful. And he was in no rush.
He'd picked the next one already.
The skinny little kid with the glasses. She had cried at her friend's funeral. Stood there in her short, cotton frock, crying. Young, innocent and crying. Did she know how sexy she was? Damn them all. Young and sexy without knowing it.
Damn her.
But he could wait. Waiting, being careful.
That was how it had to be.


Summer holidays came and we went to swim and picnic by the river.
Nobody had forgotten Margie and Mrs Chapman didn't go out or anything and when she did she wore dark glasses and Johnny told me that was because she couldn't stop crying. There were new holiday movies we went to see and the carnival set up down at the bay and we just had heaps to do every day.
Mummy asked me to go to the shops and she gave me the money and a list and told me I could spend the change on myself. I went zooming down the street in my new runners that I had gotten for Christmas. When I turned into the next street, before where you went through the park to the shops, I saw Mister Makins under the trees and he called me over.


Here she was.
Dressed in a tiny skirt and a top that left her tummy exposed and with those silly high shoes that all these kids wore. So worried the whole town had been when the other little bitch had died. But he had known they would forget. They would relax, fall back into old ways. After this one he would have to move on, another town, more stupid little girls. Sexually depraved they flaunted themselves at him. They wanted it, they asked for it. He was not to blame.
Why did they do that?
"Hello Barbara."
"Hello Mister Makins."
"Look at this my dear."
She leant forward to see what he had and he pressed the chloroform soaked cloth over her face. She didn't last a minute, not even seconds. Her senseless body collapsed and slumped limply into his arms.


Mister Makins wasn't a strange man.
Mummy had told me not to stop or talk to any strange men.
But Mister Makins was all right. He wanted to show me something. I bent forward to see it and he pushed a smelly handkerchief over my face. I smelt sickly sweet stuff and then everything went away...........................


Johnny wondered why Mister Makins was helping Barbara into his car. Why, he wondered, did she seem to need so much help. Perhaps she'd hurt herself. Stupid girl. Anyway Mister Makins was alright and anyway he had to hurry, he was late for practice.


When I got back from practice mum just grabbed me as I walked in the door.
"Where's your sister?" She shouted at me.
"I dunno."
"Oh my God. Oh my God." she said.
I heard a car skidding to a stop and when I looked outside there were the police. Mister Copston, he was the chief, and Mary Whiteside, she was a constable and really cute. They pounded on the door and mum opened it.
"Judy", said Mister Copston, "is she home?"
"John, no, no, no, she's not."
"What happened?"
"I sent her to the shop, its less than a half a kilometre from here. That was an hour ago and she's still not home. I've looked and she's nowhere around and Mrs Gibbins at the shop says she hasn't seen her."
"Hey mum........" I said.
"OK Mary, get onto the station. We've got to get people out here and search."
"Hey mum......." I said.
"Oh John, after what happened to Margie......Oh God I'm frightened. If anything's happened to Barbara................"
"Hey mum............" I said.
"We'll have troopers here soon Judy and then we'll find her. Don't worry yourself, she's probably just lost track of time and gone somewhere else."
"I told her. After what happened to Margie, I told her. If she's gone somewhere I'll kill her."
"Hey mum........" I said.
There was a knock on the door and two detectives came in. Several uniformed police were in our yard. Mister Copston started talking to everyone.
"OK we'll get some of you here, some by the shop. Work toward each other. Check every house."
"Hey mum......." I said.
"What is it Johnny?" Said Miss Whiteside.
"I saw Barbara."
Everyone looked at me.
"........err, she got into a car with Mister Makins. She looked a bit sick."
The detectives looked at each other. "Those DNA tests. Makins."
Mister Copston shouted out.
"Makins house,.....................now!!!!!!!"


He looked down at her.
He had filled her with sedatives as soon as the chloroform wore off, enough to knock her out for a while. She wouldn't stir again until he'd finished.
Her clothes lay in a little pile where he had stacked them.
She was sprawled out, still and quiet, her thin white body lying on her back, open to his gaze. He looked at her pretty face. Ringed by the halo of her hair, eyes closed, lips just parted as she snored softly in her drug induced coma. Her little girl's body. Just a child really. Small buds that would become breasts topped with large pink nipples. They were all the same. Damned little witches. They took a man's brains and scrambled them, made him do stupid things, feel strange, dirty and highly arousing thoughts.
Bitches!
He looked at her skinny arms and legs, her small, smooth slit, nestling between her thighs, a clear break, a visible gap. He could turn his hand sideways and pass it through the gap between her inner thighs. A gap that existed because of those small pink folds that were the emerging gateway to her sex. Soft, downy hair sprouted from her groin above that slit. Damn her. Damn all of them. Child witches.
He ran his hand down her silky young flesh. Touched her small breasts, ran them down, feeling her ribs, her tummy. He felt the smooth satin of her inner thighs and touched the crepe of her vagina. He was very excited.
He undressed and arranged his stuff. The clear plastic gloves, the knife with which he'd inscribe her number. Number seven. The knife with which he'd cut her, destroy her sex so that no other could be tempted. He groaned and buried his head in his hands. "You damned witch!" he cried at her. She couldn't hear him, just lay still, drugged and silent.
First he must deflower her, despoil her.
It was his right.
He was God's hammer to destroy these girl women, these sirens, Lolita's, temptresses. He would have sex with her and then she'd die. Like the others. Like that other damned Jezebel from this very town.
He looked down. He was erect, very erect. Huge. Glistening. Tumescent. Clear ejaculate dripped from his cock and landed on her body. Crawled down her leg. He positioned himself above her. Poised, his cock at the lips of her sheath.
"Makins!...........STOP! Stay where you are."
The damned cop bitch had burst through the door. Her gun was drawn. In her hand. It was over but the witch must die. He grabbed the knife, plunged it at the small unprotected chest.
BANG!
The damned woman fired.
The bullet took his hand off and the knife with it. He gazed in surprise at the stump. Wrist bones, white and splintered stuck out. Bloody meat hung around them. The witch must die.
"Makins."
He grasped the girl's neck with his good hand and twisted and choked.
BANG!
The woman fired again and the second bullet smashed into the bridge of his nose. His face disappeared in a mist of red spray and his naked body was thrown backwards.
The others crowded in.
The woman rushed forward and cradled the naked child.
"Barbara, Barbara, my baby, my baby."


I puked all over Mummy.
And me.
I must have passed out again. I'm always passing out. "Oh no," Johnny says, "here she goes again." and my eyes cross and roll up and over and out I go.
I looked down. Someone must have taken my specs and I saw everything in a blur. I wasn't sure what I was looking at.
Oh heck, I was naked!!!!
And the room was full of people. I wailed and buried my face in my hands. And I blushed so hard my hair roots went red and so did my toes.
I vomited again. All over Mummy. She didn't seem to mind. Just rocked me and hugged me and cried a lot. I felt like puking some more and hawked and gagged. Mummy hugged me tighter still. Everyone else stepped back a bit. I was so embarrassed and whispered "Mummy...........mummy, I'm naked. Then I wailed again. Officer Whiteside, she's nice, gave me a blanket and wrapped it around me. I pulled it tight.
I looked around.
Mister Copston was there and Officer Whiteside and some young cops I'd seen around. They'd seen me naked! Oh gee! I blushed so hard I could feel myself going red inside my nostrils. There were others I didn't know. Someone was lying to one side. All covered in red, like tomato sauce. I peered but couldn't say who it was. I know some of my faints are pretty spectacular but this seemed ridiculous. And why did I undress and get naked before passing out. I gave up and squeezed Mummy hard as hard as I could.
Mister Copston said "Judy, why don't you get Barbara out of here and you other guys lets get soco in here. OK."
Mummy carried me out and Daddy was there and he took me home in his Bronco.


All of this was a long time ago.
I know what happened now. I know how lucky I was and am to be alive. Mister Makins killed Margie and five other girls in other towns. I don't think anyone really understood why. I mean he was a preacher and all. And he had a wife. And kids of his own. I'll never understand it.
I know I'm really glad I was out cold all the time because it was just a mystery to me. I get very frightened when I think of it. But it happened while I was unconscious and when I came to it was all over.
I didn't do anything.
Its just that young girls are quite unknowingly and unintentionally sexy at times and for some men that causes a real problem. I know I dress like a dag nowadays and don't try to be the least bit enticing. But, when you're young its the way you walk, the way you look, lots of things.
Its a dangerous time.
Yeah. That summer. Its a long time ago now.