|
The Hidden Truth [m/f, teen]
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
THE HIDDEN TRUTH
By Austin
Looking up from the jumbled pile of intermingled clothes in the
grass, he scanned the surface of the pond, looking for his daughter. The
evening's shadows swept darkly across the pond, its still surface broken
only by the occasional splash
of a squirming fish or the ripple of a water bug. It was the close of
another warm,
magical July evening in the Midwest. A light breeze swept through the
rustling
trees like a whisper, tossing Frank's thinning blond and gray hair into
his face and
partly obscuring his cold blue/grey eyes. The air was humid and warm,
filled with
the faint scent of pine needles and dead fish.
The whine of the insects, seemingly oblivious to the troubles of
mankind yet
consumed with their own struggle for survival, drifted among the forest
like a tiny
symphony. The up and down... up and down, see-saw whine of the insects.
It was a tranquil, pleasant setting. Frank did not notice. His
thoughts were
elsewhere.
He caught a glimpse of her far across the pond, just behind an
outcropping
of marsh-like grass near the right shore. He was not surprised to see his
daughter
was naked. She had swam nude in the pond most of her life, since the time
she
was 5 or 6. Why should she stop now? He was glad she still felt
comfortable
enough with herself and her body to be so free and open. It reminded him
of his
own youth. A time that seemed so long ago...
She was kneeling, her knees bent springlike, her young ivory body
partly
hidden by an outcropping of marsh grass on the far shore. Frank decided
not to
call out. He did not want to startle her. She looked so happy, like a
child wading
in a baby pool under the watchful eye of a parent on the bank. Her hair
was pulled
up over her head where it was tied loosley into a swirl of blonde and
subtle reds.
As he watched, her slender white arms swept up above her lowering head and
she
sprung forward into the water, her penetration sending a circle of gentle
waves
across the lazy surface of the pond. The soft splashing sound reached out
toward
Frank, its arrival delayed slightly due to her distance across the pond.
The irony of the situation began to dawn on Frank. Was it not 17
years
earlier- a lifetime ago- that he and and Marilyn had swam nude in this
same pond
to celebrate the promise of their future together? Back when their
daughter now
out in the pond had been an embryo swimming inside her mother. When her
mother had been his and their dreams of the future had seemed guaranteed,
a
promise from some higher being.
How could things have gone so wrong?
Frank attempted to brush aside such sentimental thoughts. He had
come to
the pond for his daughter, not to feel sorry for himself. She had asked
him to meet
her at the pond, to tell him of the pain she was feeling over the divorce.
Dawn
hadn't told him that was the reason she wanted to talk, but he could tell
anyway.
He could always tell with her. They had always been that way, even when
she was
a little girl. The smallest change in voice tone, the slightest twist in
an otherwise
normal smile, the slight tilt of her head to the left while she giggled.
To others
such as Marilyn, these small changes would go unnoticed, and if noticed,
their
meaning would be lost. But not with Frank. He always saw the changes and
knew
exactly what they meant, without any words being spoken between the two.
The closeness between Dawn and him had seemed at times to anger
Marilyn, as if she was jealous she couldn't relate to their daughter like
he could.
He and Marilyn got in a fight over the subject once after Dawn had gone to
Frank
for advise about birth control. "That was a mother-daughter kind of
subject", she
had tearfully yelled to Frank when she learned of the discussion. Frank
apologized
to Marilyn at the time. He felt sorry for her and found himself sincerely
wishing
Marilyn and Dawn could become closer, for both of their sake. He wished
the two
could become friends, like he was with Dawn. But it just didn't seem it
was meant
to be..
Now it appeared his own relationship with Dawn was on the way to
becoming a shadow of what it had once been. Since the divorce had become
final,
he only saw Dawn on holidays or every other weekend. No more tucking her
into
bed each night with a kiss on the forehead. No more playing frisbee in
the old
front yard as the sun began to set over the tall, pointed fir trees that
lined the long
driveway. No more nightly home cooked dinners around the table, when
father
and daughter could swap stories of the days happenings and pass silent
smiles. No
more of any of this, unless of course it was a holiday or "his" weekend to
be with
his daughter. Dawn lived with her mother in the house where they had
always
lived together as a family. He rented a cramped apartment downtown, alone
and
disillusioned.
How did it all happen?
Standing in the shadow of a cluster of dark trees Frank felt
uncomfortable,
and this realization made him feel even more uncomfortable. As he watched
Dawn's progress across the water toward him, he felt distanced from her
not only
by the expanse of the pond but also by the pain the separation with her
mother had
caused Dawn. For the first time in his life the closeness he had always
shared with
Dawn was not there. He felt increasingly guilty and awkward in her
presence. In
her eyes where he had once seen and love and comfort he now saw contempt
and
uneasiness. It was as if she blamed him for all that had happened.
He couldn't blame her for feeling that way toward him under the
circumstances. After all, he was the one that had left the house so
abruptly, the
house he and Dawn and Marilyn had shared for the last 17 years. Without
any
insight into what had happened, it must look to Dawn like he had simply
abandoned his family... like he had given up for no good reason.
Frank knew better. He knew what had happened. But he couldn't
tell
Dawn. He just couldn't. Could he?
As Frank watched Dawn's white form approach nearer, like a white
fish in a
dark sea, he decided he would tell her the truth, that night. She- and
he- deserved
the truth be told. It just wasn't fair that he should have to watch the
comfort he and
Dawn had always shared crumble into dust under the weight of the truth
that was
being witheld. He had already lost Marilyn. He was not going to allow
Marilyn to
destroy what he had with Dawn. That was probably what she had wanted all
along. He must try to stop the damage before it was too late, before the
faded
black and white photos of little Dawn and him looked like make-believe
images in
some pretend photo album. He must try to preserve the reality of love and
joy
those pictures had captured back then, in the good old days.
But could he really go through with it? After all, Dawn did
still live with
her mother. And he had promised Marilyn he would never tell Dawn. They
had
decided together it was better she not find out about what had happened
that
fateful day. If Marilyn found out he told Dawn, what little warmth
between them
that still existed would be gone. But was there really any warmth left
worth saving
between him and Marilyn, or had that warmth chilled like a smile following
a bad
joke?
The desperate urge to mate and survive. Was life for him all that
different
than the struggle of the insects?
Dawn approached to within a few yards of the shore as Frank began
to
move forward out of the darkness of the tree lined bank. The chorus of
insects
rose and fell against the rising sound of the splashing water caused by
her arrival.
Frank's mouth opened to call out to her, but his voice did not respond.
He was
transfixed, caught in a trance of curiousity and awe that left him unable
to move,
much less speak.
Dawn had begun to walk up the shallow bank of the pond, her young
body
revealing itself slowly as she emerged from the glistening water. She was
beautiful. It was that simple, and that unavoidable. Frank quickly told
himself he
should not think such things, he shouldn't even think of thinking such
things. He
told himself he should turn his head and call out to her, tell her he was
coming, and
give her the chance to grab her towel and cover herself. But he did not
turn his
head, and he did not call out. He was unable to pull free of his trance,
like a
helplesss moth caught in the vast web of a lurking spider out in the
forest behind
him.
The long, toned torso with the slightly visable ribcage. The
thin yet
muscular arms and shapely, defined legs. Her firm, perky breasts, their
form
bouncing slightly as she strolled slowly forward. The last rays of the
day's sunlight
danced through the trees and splashed across her naked body, revealing
shiney
beads of shimmering water that streamed downward to reunite with the
pond. Her
hair struggled to break free, clumps of it's strawberry toned bouquet
falling
defiantly over her face. But the beauty of the face would not be hidden.
The
strong, proud cheek bones and the small pug-like nose nestled above full
lips.
She was beautiful. There was no denying it. Young and healthy
and.... she
looked so much like Marilyn had when she was Dawn's age. So much so Frank
felt his stomach spin and his throat tighten as tears began to blanket the
coolness of
his blue eyes. It was like looking into the past, at a time when Marilyn
was still his
and Dawn was still theirs, not some visiter to be passed between them on
weekends and holidays.
How many times in days gone by had he seen Marilyn on this same
bank,
naked, as she walked toward him to seduce him and to stir the life inside
him... the
same life that had led to the creation of Dawn herself? How many times
had he
felt the fires within him flare as he and Marilyn had laid naked on the
cool mossy
bank of the pond, kissing and hugging and talking softly of the wonder the
future
held for them? The wonder of the future.
Marilyn and Frank had always believed Dawn had been conceived during
one
particular evening encounter, among the many hot, swirling encounters on
the
banks of their pond. It had been a hot, sticky night, when the humid
harshness of
the day hung in the air around them and relief was afforded only by the
coolness of
the pond's soothing water. The electricity between them had been
particularily
magical that night, an evening of passion and life. Marilyn's cries had
been long
and soulful as she peaked under the force of his love, her body had
thrashed and
kicked below him wild and loyal. He had cried out also, his voice
penetrating
across the forest like the call of a ferocious lion marking the boundry of
his
kingdom. A week later Marilyn discovered she was pregnant. The
announcement
caused the two young people to crush each other in hugs of wonder and
commitment. It had all made such sense. It was all as it was suppose to
be.
Years later, things began to change. Frank had thought it was his
imagination at first, but then he began to take careful notice, to keep
track of the
beginning of the end of their happiness together. First there was the
awkward
silence between he and Marilyn as they woke in the morning, where there
had
once been hugs and smiles and soft talk of the day ahead. Then came the
long
nights when the sound of the t.v. was unbroken, where previously its pull
had
always been overpowered by their desire to talk together, to share their
thoughts
and fears as they sat facing each other, their hands cupping warm mugs of
tea or
entwined together like the harmonious strands of a basket.
Finally the security and comfort of the two adults- the parents of
Dawn, an
infant who had become a young woman nearing her graduation from high
school-
began to fade into a wall of distance and scorn. Frank and Marilyn did
not visit the
pond together anymore. It was a place they tried to forget. Despite all
his efforts,
Marilyn would not tell him what was wrong. She denied anything was wrong,
yet
her denials hung in the air, false and cold.
Frank had been willing to call it quits during that sad time. He
was
surprised he could feel so empty about a person over which he once would
gladly
have sacrificed his life for. But there was only so much he could take.
There was
only so much he could endure. It seemed increasingly clear to Frank he
could not
salvage the lifetime of two persons together, all by himself. But he held
on, as
much for the benefit of Dawn as for the love he still held for Marilyn and
for the
future they had planned together. He did love her.
Then one day, like the promising sun that pushes out from behind
dark
storm clouds that have soaked the ground below, Marilyn began to become
her old
self again. Once again the mornings held the joy of gentle embraces and
whispering under the warmth of the covers. The T.V. was again turned down
low,
its murmerring a comforting backdrop to their resurging dialogue. Dawn
noticed
the difference. Her uneasiness over the strained relationship of her
parents was
replaced with the excitement of looking forward to having them attend her
graduation. They seemed to be the old family again. Three souls living
the dream
Frank and Marilyn had planned during those humid, erotic days laying on
the cool
banks of the pond.
Then, as quickly as the family's rebirth had occurred, it all came
crashing
down.
But all that was in the past now as Frank stood near the edge of
the pond
watching Dawn stroll into the shadows on the near bank. She had begun to
towel
herself off, slowly and deliberately. With one hand covering his eyes,
Frank stood
facing her, his free hand extended in front of him like the probing hand
of a
blindman.
"Dawn, dear, don't you think you better cover yourself before you
catch a
cold or something", he asked her as she shrieked and hastily covered
herself.
"Damn, Dad, you scared the pee out of me!... give me a minute, OK?
And
how long have you been standing there?"
"Not too long, but long enough to know I better cover my eyes. I
didn't
mean to startle you... it looks like I did anyway".
"Understatement of the year, daddy!". Then an awkward pause.
"Isn't it
beautiful tonight, Dad? Mom wanted to come with me, but I told her you
were
going to meet me here so she wouldn't come."
"Honey, its ok if she wanted to come here with you. I know you
and her
like it here, and we haven't all been here together for such a long time."
Frank felt
relieved Marilyn had not come. He could not bear the thought of seeing
her here
again, under the circumstances.
"Oh, I know that dad. I just wanted to talk to you alone.
Actually, mom and
I have been spending a lot of time together recently. I feel like I know
her better
now than I ever did... before. Its like she feels more comfortable around
me now
that... now that you're gone. I think I needed that. I really do. I
always wished she
and I could be closer... Anyway, I just couldn't resist a quick dip and I
forgot to
bring my swim suit. I'll just be a minute, OK".
As Frank mulled over Dawn's words he began to feel a bittersweet
kind of
joy build within him. He had always wanted Dawn and Marilyn to become
closer,
and somehow he had always known that would never happen as long as he was
around. Now it had been allowed to happen.
"Take your time getting dressed, Dawn. I'll just wait here with
my eyes
closed and my arms flailing helpless in front of me like your friend Joey.
I just
hope its chocolate cake this time!"
The comment sent Dawn into a fit of giggles as she pulled on her
white
cotton t-shirt and fastened her jean shorts. Frank had been referring to
an incident
that always sent Dawn into childlike giggles. It had occurred on her 13th
birthday.
Dawn and her young friends, including Joey, had been playing the blindfold
game
pin the tail on the donkey at the party her father had thrown for her.
Joey was a
thin, dark haired boy who always seemed to be struggling to stay upright
even
when he had the full use of his eyesight. He had become horribly
disoriented
moments after the blindfold was placed over his eyes and he zig-zagged
wildly off
course and tripped over a chair, falling head face-first into Dawn's white
birthday
cake which sat on a nearby table. To the delight of the laughing children
Joey then
squirmed upright and began to run around the room with one hand
outstretched
before him, his face a messy blob of cake and icing.
Every since the incident, whenever Frank held a hand over his eyes
and
held the other in front of him, it was in a parody of the comical
performance of
Joey, "the cake diving boy".
It lifted Frank's heart to hear Dawn giggle as they recalled the
incident.
Maybe everything would be OK after all...
While waiting with his eyes closed for the "all clear" sign from
Dawn
indicating she was fully dressed, Frank heard a different sound. The
sound had
started as a soft, choking sound that sprung almost undetected from her
giggling.
With a start, Frank realized Dawn was crying, softly, from deep within her
chest.
By the time Frank reached her side to hold and cradle her the sobs had
become a
gut wrenching wail that rang in his ears. Hot tears streamed down her
flushed
face, its contours crinkled and contorted into an image of agony and pain.
"What's wrong honey, baby, what's wrong? It'll be OK, Dawn honey,
it'll be
OK""
"...No it won't daddy, no it won't!", Dawn blurted out between
strained sobs
that caused her chest to heave violently beneath his hold. "I miss you so
much and
it hurts so bad to think of when we were all together, like when Joey fell
into the
cake.... it hurts sooooo baaaddd.....how could you leeeeaave like that...
how could
you?!... Dawn's crying had become an emotional, high pitched wail.
"Please don't
touch me, daddy, I'm so mad at you, don't even touch me,
pleeeaassssseeee?".
The words hung in Frank's ears. She had never said such a thing
to him or
sounded so angry at him before. Not since her childhood tantrums at
least.
Awkwardly, Frank removed his grasp and held his stiff hands outstretched
just
above Dawn's trembling shoulders. Beneath him the girl continued to cry
violently. The sound was erie in the growing darkness of the forest.
Even the
insects seemed to quiet for a moment, as if recognizing and sympathizing
with her
pain.
"Honey", Frank stammered, his face reflecting the pain of her
rejection,
"please don't be mad.... please... you don't understand... please."
Dawn looked up at her dad, her face streaked with tears, hazel
eyes
bloodshot and red, her breath hot in his face.
"What is there to understand, dad? It's all very clear... you
and mom are
over and you live in that crappy joke of an apartment all by yourself.
Why didn't
you try to get back with mom??... why did you leave her and me all
alone!!"
A sudden gust of wind released a tuft of hair free from atop
Dawn's head
sending the whispy strands across her wet face. The hair clung tightly to
her moist
skin. One tear hung precariously from her chin, clinging desperately to
hold on.
Dawn waited for his response.
As he looked into the eyes of his daughter, Frank began to recall
the events
of that May afternoon, two months before, when it had all happened.
Dawn had sprained her knee in a fall during an after school
cheerleading
practice. The sprain was bad, serious enough to require that she visit
the
emergency room. When called and told of the accident, Frank frantically
rushed to
the gym where Marilyn was working out. He could still recall the tangy
scent of
sweat, metal and perfume that slammed into his face as he entered the gym,
in
sharp contrast to the fresh and promising air he had left behind in the
world
outside.
The next few moments were seared into Frank's consciousness like
the
freshly applied branding on a calf's hide, never to be removed or
forgotten.
First there was the look of uneasy concern on the face of the man at the
front desk
at Marilyn's gym. He had nodded toward a closed door in response to
Frank's
inquiry as to where Marilyn was. Frank had told the man he was looking
for
Marilyn Nelson- his wife. At the time he thought the man's expression
reflected
the sense of urgency in his voice, a voice filled with the anxiety over
Dawn's
injury. He was soon to understand the true reason for the man's
uneasiness.
As he approached the closed door, his stomach began to tighten.
Why was
Marilyn sealed behind a closed door and not out with all the other
huffing, puffing,
patrons? Why wasn't she riding an exercise bike or climbing some stair
machine?
Sure... she could be in some type of conference with the manager about
some
business issue. Maybe she wasn't even behind the door... the man at the
desk must
have misunderstood his question... But his gut told him otherwise.
With a jerk Frank placed his hand on the doors shiney aluminum
knob. It
felt smooth and cold... comforting. Turning the knob and swinging the
door slowly
open, he revealed a dark, seemingly empty room. Then Frank heard the
natural,
instinctive sounds of sex; the sounds of moaning, of raspy breathing, of
supportive
whisperings. A thin band of sweat swept across Frank's palms as he let go
of the
doorknob, its coolness only a memory. His eyes swept the dark room,
struggling to
adjust from the contrasting light of the world outside. Then he saw her
from the
back, the mother of his daughter... the daughter who was at that moment
undergoing surgery to repair her damaged knee.
At first he had thought it couldn't be her, that it must be
someone else that
just looked like Marilyn. But then he heard the moan, a moan he had heard
for
nearly 20 years; in their bed, in the backseat of their old Escort
stationwagon, on
the shore of their little pond.
She was atop some strange man he had never seen before. Her body
was
moving in the secert, rythmic dance he had seen so often over the years.
Frank felt
his head begin to spin as a crushing wave of despair rose up within him.
With
growing unsteadiness he awkwardly groped the open door for support, his
motion
causing the door to emit a rusty creak that tore through the dark room.
Marilyn
heard the noise and turned toward Frank. Her eyes reflected a faraway
world of
excitiment and passion- then her expression jolted into that of a little
girl caught in
her parent's room playing with matches. The change was so quick and
dramatic it
looked comical to Frank, although the humor was brief, and sad.
Frank painfully watched the head of the strange man came slowly
into view
below Marilyn, his alien face tanned and sculptured, the face of a man who
was
born to break the heart of a man like Frank.
Marilyn clutched her hands over her breasts like a frightened
child as she
jumped to the floor, her hair falling loosly into her sweaty face. The
alien man
murmered "oh shit" and clamored for his clothes. Frank stood quietly and
watched, his motivation and will seeping from his body into the ground
below.
They were over; he knew that. And he knew they were not the only thing
that was
over. The comfort Dawn had in knowing her parent's slept just down the
hall from
her was over as well. The wonderous dream of the future he and Marilyn
had
woven together on the banks of their little pond in the shade of the cool
trees... that
was over too.
Turning to leave the scene and Marilyn behind, Frank caught the
sound of
her sobs as she choked out "I tried... I really did ... I just don't love
you anymore,
Frank!". The words bounced off of Frank, weak and meaningless. He felt
immune to feeling, immune to joy or hurt, love or hate. He had been
transformed
into a detached observer, the patron of a dark theater whose giant,
flickering
screen was revealing to him the scenes from someone else's life. Sticks
and stones
may break my bones but words.....
Later, when the passing of the days had allowed the shock of that
day to
wear off, pangs of emotion swept over Frank like angry waves crashing onto
a
rocky shore. How many times in the two months since that moment had those
words echoed in his mind? "... I just don't love you anymore..." How
many
mornings had he sat up in bed covered in sweat to hear those words... I
just don't
love you anymore..." How could it be? He had still loved her. He had
seen the
hope and promise of a fresh start in the weeks preceeding the crushing
encounter
at the gym. Hadn't she? Had it all been just an act?
The strained sound of Dawn's voice in the darkening evening pulled
Frank
from his painful recollection. The tear had fallen from Dawn's chin to
splash upon
an ant that was now scurring away from them on the ground below, its small
legs
leaving fine lines in the dirt as it struggled to escape.
"Why daddy... why? I get so mad when I think of you leaving mom
and
me!... How could you give up when things were going so well again?!!"
Her voice
was searching, filled with confusion and desperation. Her face was
muddled and
distorted in the thick darkness that had arrived.
Frank told himself how the time had arrived to tell Dawn the
truth; the
reason it had all ended. Why he had moved into that crappy downtown
apartment,
why he had left his sweet daughter behind with her mother... why he had
seemingly given up. He felt a wave of relief rise within him. Once he
told Dawn
what had happened that day in the gym she would understand it all, she
would
forgive him, and they would be close again, as they had always been. And
her
anger at him would be re-directed... toward Marilyn.
Then he recalled Dawn's words... of how she and Marilyn were
finally
getting to know each other... how they were finally becoming close. He
recalled
how much Dawn had looked like Marilyn as she had strolled from the pond
moments before. Mother and daughter, coming together after the many years
of
distance.
"Honey, I just couldn't go on anymore", Frank heard himself say,
as if they
were spoken by someone else. "Your mother and I just couldn't go on
anymore,
things changed, it wasn't anyone's fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt
you so much. I
miss you, too. I love you, Dawn... I'm sorry."
The words felt dry and forced in his throat.
Dawn's sobs swelled again, her cries shrill and harsh, as Frank
bent to hug
her and kiss her face. The salt of her hot tears stung his dry lips.
Frank's
explaination had not been enough to excuse his disappearance from her
life, from
their life at the home they had all shared together.
Pushing roughly away from his hold, Dawn ran wildly into the
darkness,
calling to him not to follow. Her white hair bobbed earily into the
distance, her
cries growing softer until they blended into the sounds of the forest
around him.
Frank stood motionless, stiff, the salt taste still bitter on his lips.
He felt old and
alone, yet good in a strange sort of way. The muffled sound of Dawn's car
door
slamming shut drifted through the forest. A cool breeze rustled through
the dark
trees. Then the sound of her car coming to life, its tires squealing as
she raced out
onto the gravel road that led away from the pond, back toward the house
where the
tall, pointed fir trees lined the driveway... the house where her mother
waited for
her.
Then there was silence, except for the insects. The up and down,
up and
down, see-saw whine of the insects. On and on...
|
|
