HYPERSPACE

A Day in the Asylum:

A Day on Planet Earth

 

Walking rightward on the grassy lane amidst the purple flowers and green verdure towards the smooth-boled trees Jason is inhaling deeply the summer air with the soft breeze spreading its warmth around him.  0    "This is like that other planet I imagined about six months ago when I met my Star Friend . . ."  Whisperingly: "Star Friend."  0  "For sure!"  0  "I remember!  We were in this spot last night!  This was the park last night!"  Feeling relief from the familiar setting which a second before appeared to be a beautiful but strange place . . .  0   ". . . like the girl . . . alone . . . looking for a friend.  I should have played with her."  "HEY!  LOOK AT THAT!"  A loud booming voice is breaking into the midst of Jason's brooding.  Jason, trying to discern from which direction it is coming . . .   "IT'S THE BLOND PUSSY!  NOW WE CAN GET HIM!"  Turning rightwards Jason is seeing coming out of the trees and bushes several boys of about his age and a little older.  Instantly he is recognizing the one in the turned backward black baseball cap.  Beneath the cap he is viewing a chubby, mean, angry looking face and with him are two of his friends.  "Yeah," another one of them is saying in a deeper matter-of-fact voice.  "It's the pussy blond jerkoff alright!" He is taller than the black-capped one and is thin, his mouth a twisted snarl, Jason is observing.  "Hey jerkoff," another is yelling, Jason turning his head, seeing that the new voice is coming from another kid, also thin but shorter than the previous speaker.  "Let's see you run blondy!"  Ready to take off Jason is looking down the lane in the direction of the park's entrance but is seeing a fifth kid blocking his way.  This one is the same height as the last and muscular with a nasty look on his darkly tanned face, his slick black hair combed straight back.  "Come on blond pussy prick!" the tan muscular one is snarling.  "Let's see you run!"  The speaker crouches opening his arms as if to catch prey while Jason is looking about realizing that they have fanned around him leaving no unblocked route.  "C'mon," the chubby one in the backward baseball cap is saying.  "Let's punch the fuck outa him!"  Instantly they are rushing Jason, the tan muscular one being the first to reach him and, grabbing him by the shirt, jerking him towards him with one hand, punching him in the left eye with the other clenched tightly into a fist. Seeing before him the one with the black baseball cap turned backward he is suddenly watching a rising leg, his stomach taking a powerful kick, he falling down in pain and breathlessness, the force of the kick and his dropping causing the tan muscular one to lose his grip.  Jason is no longer seeing, it seeming as if all of them together are jumping him, beating him with their clenched fists on the head, all the while uninhibitedly without pause spewing at him chains of expletives.  A hand grabbing his hair is pulling up his head and banging it down on the grassy lane, his head cracking with pain, he wondering if he is bleeding.  Once more he is feeling his head being raised by the pulling of hair.   "Listen," he is hearing one of them saying while his head is being held by pulled hair.  "Let's drag this asshole out of here where there's cement.  Then we can watch him bleed while we're smashing his head!"

"Great idea!" opines another.  Feeling hands tightly gripping his ankles and himself being dragged along the ground, Jason is opening his eyes watching two of them dragging him while wondering where the other three are.  Passing by him speedily in his vision are grass, trees, bushes, flowers as he is being dragged forward across the ground.  Raising his head slightly he is viewing a wall of bushes up front and then suddenly colored stars and circles in the midst of blackness as he is feeling a forceful bang on his head.  "Hey, piece of shit!  Don't raise that girly blond head again, little prick, goddamn little jerkoff, or I'll kick it off!" the muscular tan one is saying while walking behind him with one of the others.  Feeling his body being dragged over a hard surface, flat stones–visibly distinguished by dividing cracks from cementing–are whizzing past his eyes, while a statue of a young boy is passing to his left, he recognizing the park's entrance that he had seen from the street.  "Ok!" the chubby one in the black baseball cap turned backwards is yelling while dropping Jason's left foot.  The tall thin one is dropping his right foot following the other's lead.  "Now I'm going to put this little cocksucking prick out of his misery!"  He is walking to a point adjacent to Jason's head resting on a stone.  Bending down he is grabbing Jason by the hair yanking his head up with sharp jerking motion.  "Wait!  I want to make the asshole suffer a little more," the tan muscular one is saying, "before you crack that beautiful blond  head open."  Drawing back his right leg and kicking it forward with all of the force he can muster he is kicking Jason in the right side.  Repeating this action several times as if in an extreme uncontrollable fit of temper the chubby one is suddenly beginning speaking, still holding Jason's head by his hair while jerking it slightly higher.  "Ok . . ."   "HEY!  GET AWAY FROM THAT BOY!"  A deep booming voice is vibrating in Jason's ears.  Instantly the chubby one is loosening his grip allowing Jason's head to drop, it striking  the stone.  "GET AWAY FROM THAT BOY!" the roaring voice is commanding.  Feeling pain in his head and in his side as he is barely glimpsing his tormentors fleeing, wondering again if he is bleeding, Jason is suddenly feeling a cool hand brushing over his forehead.  Opening his eyes a large black face with full black beard sprinkled with gray hovering over him–tufts of gray-sprinkled black hair popping out from under his cap, deep black eyes staring into him with corner skin crinkles, a larger than usual neck-worn wooden cross dangling on a thick brown leather chord from his upper chest, the top three buttons of his shirt being open–is entering Jason's vision along with an awe inspiring feeling of power and goodness permeating his being that he could not quite define.  Seeming to be studying Jason, the latter is hearing the man speaking.  "Here son," the deep resonating voice that has rescued him is saying.  "Let me help you up."  Wanting to thank him Jason cannot find his voice; wanting to cry he cannot or else his enemies will have won a victory over him.  Jason is watching the large man bending above him supporting himself on one knee; is feeling a hand under his head slowly raising it; is watching the man's other hand going towards his head while the first hand is withdrawing.  "You're bleeding a little, son.  Here, let me help you up and take you home.  Do you live far from here?"  Soft and soothing are the deep sounds of the man's kind voice.  Struggling, Jason is squeezing back the urge to cry.  "No sir," he is forcing out the words.  Feeling the man's hands under his arms slowly raising him, not letting him go even when standing, it is seeming to him that they are remaining in that position for a long time.  "I want to be sure you can stand without my holding you up," the kind deep voice vibrating in his ears is saying.  The hands slipping from under his arms Jason is feeling slightly wobbly.  "Take one step," his friend  behind him is kindly suggesting, he then taking a step and feeling his knees shaking.  "You can do it," the sounds are resonating in his ears, the voice's power giving him strength.  "I'm telling you,  you can!"  the voice is commanding, the kindliness always present, always being felt; its goodness penetrating him to his deepest self.  Taking another step . . .  <i can do it0  "If I walk home on my own it will be a victory over my enemies!"  

"Yes son.  But it will be even more.  It will be an overcoming within yourself."

Walking shakily towards the park's entrance, feeling the power of his rescuer behind him, the entrance is appearing close in his sight.  0    "I can do this alone."  Walking up to him, stopping by his side, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, Jason is turning his head      towards him and, looking up, is viewing his face with full gray sprinkled beard, shiny black eyes staring down at him smiling at him with their corner wrinkles; is feeling his concern, his love, his strength.  "You have decided to take the journey home yourself"–the deep sounds soothing and supporting him– "and I respect your decision and view it with awe because I think you sense what I have learned from a long life, that each man must carry his own cross.  Yet, when we see someone in need we must help."  Continuing staring into his face Jason, watching his free hand rising and descending, is feeling it smoothing his hair around his injury.  "Go home son, and your folks will care for you."  Walking on, passing through the park's opening onto the street, turning left on the way towards his house, Jason is feeling the deep concern for him of the Man, tears welling in his eyes, moistening his face.  Closing his eyes as hard as he can, pushing back the tears, refusing to cry . . .  <my victory0    Seeing a somewhat familiar figure a short distance away . . .  ? . . . don't know . . .0    "Hey kid!"  a rough crackly voice is saying.  "What in blazes happened t' yer?"  0    Approaching him, stopping,  bending down, head with black brimmed sailor's cap tilting leftwards; placing his right hand on Jason's head turning it slightly to Jason's right while holding on to his cane with his other hand, he is guiding Jason's head back, thumb on chin, fingers along cheek.  Gently pressing down his head, viewing his back-of-head wound . . .  "What scum did this t' yer, kid?" speaking threateningly. 

"I don't know them.  I'm new here."  <proud . . . speak calm . . . no crying . . .0   

"Goddamn scum!"  Growling: "If I'da saw 'em do it I'da cracked their goddamned heads open!"  Continuing holding Jason: "When yer older, look up Captain Danny.  Sail with him for a year or two, that's all.  Just a year or two and no one will ever touch ya'!"  Gently releasing Jason's head his gritty voice is once more sounding.  "Go home kid.  Ya' need tending.  I'll watch ya' walkin'."   Beginning walking, thinking about the old man and Captain Danny . . .  0  ". . .  how would that help?"  Wondering if the old man had    sailed with Captain Danny, thinking that the captain must be a fierce character, visualizing a huge man at a ship's wheel with a full black-bearded face grimacing, he is hearing him in his mind loudly barking commands.    "Neither Captain Danny or the old man would ever cry!" he is remarking when realizing that the captain's voice is sounding like the old man's.  on beach would cry0  "She would feel hurt at my being beat up the way I felt hurt at her being alone."  Dwelling on this while walking, his house is appearing suddenly in his gaze.  and pa home?0    Like an electric bolt the thought is shooting through his body.  maybe . . . not two yet . . . closer to one . . . around midday0    Green hedges–flower-sprinkled  yellow–are visually moving behind him as he is walking up the stone stairway approaching the door, two sets of vertical white frames decorating the wood present in his sight.  Grasping the knob, turning it slowly . . .  <open0    Feeling in his stomach the force of a powerful punch he is slowly pushing the door in, slowly closing it behind him, standing in the livingroom where, to his right, several feet distant, his parents are seated on the sofa in the midst of a heated argument.  Walking past them, quietly approaching his bedroom door . . .  "WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?  WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?"  Opening his bedroom door while not responding to his father, he is walking quickly in closing the door behind him.  Running to his bed, jumping onto it face down, laying there, he is feeling surprise that he has no urge to cry.  Hearing his door opening and slamming closed, his father's harsh voice is sounding loud in his ears.  "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!  DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME TALKING TO YOU?  ANSWER ME!"  An urge to answer is filling Jason but there are no words within him.  "YOU'RE PLAYING GAMES WITH ME?"  Feeling his shirt being clutched from his back and being pulled, causing it to tighten against his chest and belly, he is suddenly being lifted into the air, his father beginning shaking him, then, opening the door, carrying him in this manner to the livingroom.

"What the hell is going on?" he is hearing his mother's voice sounding in his ears with surprise and consternation.  "Frank, we have to leave!" 

"NOT UNTIL I TEACH THIS LITTLE SHIT A LESSON!" he is yelling at his wife while shaking Jason vigorously, suddenly letting him go, allowing him to fall on the floor, the muffled thud of his own body striking the hard surface entering his ears while he is landing on his injured right side, sharp pain shooting through his shoulder.  "Now ANSWER  my question," his father's growling filling his ears.  "What the goddamn hell happened to you?" 

"I got ganged up on," hearing his own answer as a listless whisper.

"You mean you got beat up!  And what did you do to the scumbag that beat you up?"

"There was more than one," he is saying, still lying on his side, fearing that if he sits or stands up his father will hit him.

"You didn't hurt any of them?  You just let them beat you up?  Get the hell back into your bedroom and don't let me see your goddamn face again!"

"Wait," his mother is saying.  "Let me see your head."  He can see her approaching him and standing above him.  "Get the hell on your feet so your mother can look at you," he is hearing his father saying gruffly.  Pushing up with his hands, feeling sharp pain in his right side and shoulder, Jason kneeling is now slowly rising to his feet.  "Make it snappy," his father is commanding.  "We shoulda been outa here five minutes ago!"  Feeling his mother's hand descending on his head, traveling to his back, he is hearing her speaking.  "You've got a cut.  Go shower and wash off the dirt and the blood and then go to bed."  Turning around Jason is beginning walking to his room.  "And make supper later!  We won't be back 'til very late!" her voice's sound following him.

Lying in bed after showering, feeling pain and soreness in his banged up head, his puffy red left eye, in his side where he has been kicked and in his right shoulder where he has fallen due to his father dropping him, he is staring into the clear bright California sky of sunny blue through the unshaded open window.  ?0  "It's good not to cry.  That's being strong, that's defeating my enemies, by not giving in to hurt feelings and baby crying."  0  "Not enough to make me cry!"  Feeling extremely sleepy, struggling against it, his eyes are closing, he sinking into sleep.  Bent fetal-like, lying sideways, staring into the blackness of his closed eyes . . .  ? . . . saturday? . . . where? . . . bedroom? . . . ah . . .0  "Bedroom!  Afternoon nap . . ."  ? . . . can't remember . . . ghouls in white . . . white clothing, white masks0  "Was kidnapped from Ma!"  0  "I remember being so frightened . . ."  0  "A horrible nightmare!"  Opening his eyes . . .  0    Stretching his legs out and his arms downward he is yawning.  Hearing no sound, he is turning resting on his back, a scintillating dot of seemingly transparent blue appearing in his vision.   "Star Friend!" the words are exhaling softly.  "You found me!  You found me!  You found me!" he is crying out the words.  "I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I want to go to you and be with you forever!  I don't like it here!  Take me to you my Loving Friend!  Please!  Let me go to you!"  Speaking as the star is gleaming through his window against the backdrop of the darkening evening sky a powerful feeling of goodness and relief is surging through him, soothing him, caressing him, kissing his innermost self so that all of the badness he has been suffering and the powerful goodness he is now experiencing from his Star are blending into one overwhelming sensation.  From deep within a crying is welling up over which he has no control, tears rolling down his face onto his pillow, he crying and crying and crying, seemingly endlessly.  0