I Have Sins

“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.

Okay kids. I keep reading this statement over and over and I’m just not sure I like it. Pastor Morris sent this spooky little sentence to my cell last night and I spent half an hour copying it, word for word, onto my yellow legal pad. I’m supposed to tell you guys a really scary story using this sentence as my opening statement. Scary Stories around the fire have been a tradition on these outings since I can’t remember when. I think okay no problem but there are five cabins here, not one. Which one do I put the candle in? I kind of wonder if the soon to be retired pastor even remembers camping here 10 years ago? That was the year we lost Billie and Cyrus in the canoe tip over. Their bodies were never recovered. Big lake out there. I know Pastor Morris blames himself for that incident. He hasn’t been on any youth retreats since then. BTW all backpacks are in your assigned cabins so your all set. Thank me later. The food is in my cabin, the cabin with the candle in the window. Sorry. I decided to place the candle in my room because I’ll need the light while looking over instructions and planning for tomorrows activities. In other words I need the light more than you all do. Okay, I’m looking at my to- do list here. We’ve arrived. Check. Back packs are in Cabins. Check. Camp fire lit. Check. Read camp Instructions. Okay, one, don’t go anywhere without your camp buddy. Two, camp buddies have to be girl, girl and boy, boy. No boy-girl combos. That’s how Billie and Cyrus got in trouble. They wanted some alone time and thought the adults wouldn’t bother them out in the middle of the lake. We all know how that ended. We later learned that Billie may have been pregnant. Not sure about that but as youth pastor kids do talk to me. The silver lining there is that we managed to get the canoe back to shore. Billie’s father was happy to have his little boat back. Three, no foul language. I know you kids like to push the boundaries when it comes to expressing yourselves and that’s fine, I was young once too. Please express yourselves as though you were in church. However if something slips out we’re not going to judge. Let’s limit our foul language to the words, damn and hell. Those are in the Bible. I think any word that can be identified by a single letter in front of the word word is offensive. Talking about the f-word, c-word, a-word, b-word, the really bad stuff. Camp instructions. Check. Camp location. You are located in a beautiful wooded area, deep, deep in a forest known as Ridge Pike. Ridge Pike isn’t exactly the agreed upon location, that was Camp River Glenn about twenty miles due east. We passed Camp River Glen on the way up here. And also, ignore that little saying a lot of people repeat, ‘Go to Ridge Pike and end up on a spike.’ I’ve always liked Ridge Pike better, nobody can hear you scream out here. The road we drove in on is, Turner Road, named after little Jimmy Turner. Jimmy was the lad who walked into the woods one day but never walked out. Turner road serves as a gruesome reminder that the forest, while beautiful, can also swallow you up if your not careful. Always have your camp buddy close by. It’s a quick eight mile walk up Turner road to the nearest gas station. Which may or may not be open. And no phones, no cell towers, sorry. Two years ago, Trudy Tyler made it to the station screaming incoherently. She was bare foot, scared, cut up, and of course she asked to use the phone. Sorry Trudy Tyler. Rude awakening. No communication devices. And the restrooms are permanently out of order. Thank goodness I found her. Oh and FYI there is an institution for the criminally insane between here and the filling station. Very dangerous place. Every once in a while someone escapes. But you will all be fine if your camp buddy is with you.”

“Let me guess there’s a man with a hook for a hand who terrorizes kids who are making out in cars?”

“How did you know, Randy?”

“Heard it at Scout camp.”

“Wow, I knew that guy. Okay camp location. Check.

“Roll call! I know there’s only five of you but this is a formality. We do roll call on every youth retreat. One year two young ladies were my only campers and guess what? We did roll call.

Okay let’s begin. Travis?”

“I’m here you ass clown.”

“Thank you, Travis.

“Randy?”

“Bite me you pedo.”

“Candy?”

“Why can’t you just let us go home?”

“Second thoughts, Candy? Last week you couldn’t wait to get here.”

“Regret is all I feel.”

“We have a whole weekend ahead of us, Candy. Become Therese B. Lean back. Relax.”

“Nikki?”

“Here Mr. youth pastor. I have nine brothers and when...”

“Six of them are in jail, two have been deported and one’s strung out on meth. Good luck calling in the cavalry. I’ll mark you present, Odile. Put Nikki away tonight.”

“I kill you myself.”

“Bella?”

“Here.”

“Travis and Randy are camp buddies. Candy and Nikki are buddies. That leaves you Bella. Would you be my buddy this weekend, Laurence?”

“It would be an honor to be Laurence, sir.”

“Thank you, Bella. While I’m remembering my thank-yous I have to thank all your parents for providing the wonderful food. There’s so much. And a big shout out to our Brother, Art Wrathburn or as he’s known on the street, Officer Wrathburn, for providing the handcuffs and leg irons your all wearing.”

“Wrathburn’s a dirty cop.”

“I can’t speak to that, Travis. Brother Wrathburn has always been kind to me.”

“What cop provides handcuffs and leg irons for a youth campout? Speak to that.”

“I know being chained up isn’t the way you want to travel but think of me for a moment, and the responsibilities I have to your parents. Having five high-strung teenagers running around doing whatever and all you please is, I’m sure you’ll agree, quite frankly, a recipe for disaster. The kids I mentioned, Jimmy, Cyrus, Billie and Trudy met their fate because of poor adult supervision. I won’t let that happen. No, not on my watch.”

“What if there’s a forest fire, we can’t run with our feet chained together.”

“I don’t know, Candy. I guess we’ll all have to jump in the lake.”

“But we’ll drown with these chains on our feet, you moron.”

“Why the name calling, Travis?”

“I can’t swim my youth pastor.”

“Not to worry, Bella, as my camp buddy nothing will happen to you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Your most welcome, my sweet friend.”

“Why you so nice to her and not to us?”

Well Nikki, Bella’s soft spoken, polite and hasn’t threatened to kill me.”

“Okay, I promise not to kill you so undo chain me.”

“Forget it Nik, she’s probably in cahoots with him.”

“I don’t know that word in English. What’s a cahoot?”

Candy, Nikki, Bella isn’t being treated any differently than you are. She’s in cuffs and leg irons and has one of my custom made black bags over her head just like you two.”

“Aren’t we lucky.”

“You are lucky, Randy. Do you know how many young people put in applications to go on this retreat? Over one dozen.”

“How did we get picked?”

Travis, please, the sarcasm is just dripping off you. Change up the attitude a little bit. To answer your question five candidates are chosen based on need.”

“Why because I got no money, dinero? You paid my mother for me to come to your house for lessons.”

“Nikki your being here has nothing to do with money or the lack thereof.”

“Then what’s it have to do why I’m here?”

“Because your a little witch and your mother doesn’t know what to do with you. Your mean, disrespectful, arrogant, rude, full of pride and deceit. Your boyfriend smokes cigarettes, your in with the wrong crowd and you have missed church twice in the last six months. That’s why your mother dropped you at my house every Monday for training. But this missing church business is what got you an invitation to this little shindig.”

“I don’t know shindig”

“It means to party.”

“Candy, she knows what it means, you don’t have to tell her.”

“She gets English and Spanish mixed up when she’s scared. Don’t call her names.”

“You are such a dumb-ass. Wait until dad hears about this. You are so dead.”

“Travis what are you going to do when you get home and find your father and mother dead?”

“Kick your ass.”

“Kick my ass?”

“Press charges.”

“Press charges? Against who, Travis?”

“You.”

“Me? I was here with you.”

"Yeah but you knew they were going to die."

“Your parents are so fed up with you they want to kill themselves, Travis. The police investigation has already concluded that your parents died as a result of murder-suicide. Poor Travis is an orphan.”

“You are so dead.”

“I don’t care. How can I explain this so you’ll understand. I know, sooner or later, I’ll be caught. If you are all still alive you will be asked to make victim impact statements. That’s water off a duck’s back. Do you think I care how much you’ve suffered? If I cared we wouldn’t be here, would we? I like violence, mayhem and murder; I dream about this stuff, I enjoy the terrified look that crosses the face of a victim when they know they’re going to die. When they resign themselves to the fact that I have defeated them their fight and determination dissolves. I have spent months planning and plotting how I’m going to kill each of you. Hanging, stabbing, gunshots. These thoughts give me chills. I experience a level of pleasure and personal satisfaction you can’t imagine. Murder, especially the up close and personal kind, is the most intimate thing two people can share. I live and die ten life times while taking a life.”

“Have you ever let anyone go?”

“Why?”

“You’re not normal.”

“And therein lies the horror, Candice, I am just an average guy. I was raised by two loving parents, I have siblings I care about, I went to church and school, I had beliefs, religious, political, moral, that I tried to follow. I was exactly like the five of you. Normal.”

“Aren’t you worried about spending the rest of your life in jail?”

“Nikki. As long as I can look back on nights like this and think about each of you and what we’ve accomplished together, I will always be free. The walls never close in. I am the artist you are the paint.”

“My brothers hate being locked up.”

That’s because all they think about is being locked up. I’ve been this way since I was nine years old. You don’t come out of the closet when your a gosh-darn psychopath. It’s not easy like it is when your gay, right Randy?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“No really, I don’t.”

“Randy your parents submitted your application because they caught you with your boyfriend in their hot tub. They even showed us pictures.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah, Randy. Frankly it was embarrassing.”

“What’s his name, Randy?”

“Shut up Travis.”

“Hey, you two are camp buddies, defend each other like Candy and Nikki did.

“We’re not gay.”

“Right Nik, complete hetero girls.”

“Don’t I know it. We’re not to be judgmental. Straight, gay, psycho, who cares, right?”

“Oh sir I think I’m falling under your spell. Like I did on our special night.”

“What special night?”

“C’mon Candy did you think you were the only one?”

“Candy made out with psycho Tim?”

“Me too. I made out.”

“Candy and Bella. How about you Nikki?”

“I vote that Travis dies first.”

“Would you like to kill him, Nikki?”

“That’s manipulation.”

“It’s an option, Travis.”

“Your a lazy psychopath.”

“Who would you like to kill, Candy?”

“You. Only you. Memento Mori, Tim.”

“No can do, Candy. I’m the only killer around this campfire.”

“I don’t want to be killed by anyone but you, sir.”

“Bella, I’m starting to worry about you.”

“You watch me at school, when we sleep I feel your eyes upon me, in the hallways at the church you watch.

“He watch all the girls. I caught him looking at me once. I used to be flattered but now he’s just creep city, B.

“But you went to his house for special lessons, Nikki.”

“My mother made me go.”

“Sounds like she pimped you out.”

“Travis, I kill you.”

“Did you ever notice his eyes linger between your knee and the hem of your skirt?”

“Excuse me ladies, stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

“What are my bad deeds? Tell me.”

“Bella Bella, Bella, you have no bad deeds. Your parents never presented an application. You’re a wonderful, obedient child. They couldn’t be happier. Your simply missing. Right now they are making frantic phone calls to all your friends, talking to their parents. The principal at your school, Gus Chong, is telling them you left during third period math with your uncle. Tim Todd or T&T. Uncle Tim is on the list of adults approved to pick you up. Your mom and pop think your at a dentist appointment.”

“How very creative, uncle Tim.”

“Thank you, Bella. But since you haven’t arrived home from the dentist they’re getting a bit worried. The authorities have been called in.”

“Pastor T&T will they be putting up missing posters of me?”

“Oh yes, Bella. You bet they are. You’re going to be famous.”

“I hope they have a good picture.”

“I suggested last year’s prom picture. Laurence hanging in my room”

“I thought they would use one of the selfies I sent you.”

“Nudity doesn’t play well on a missing poster, Bella.”

“Bella he just used us. All that stuff he made us do.”

“He cares for us, Candy. Laurence Bataille is my new identity.”

“He gives you a sketchy identity so your parents will never find you. He does not care for you, Bella. Your just something to sell.”

“It’s kind of what we signed up for, Candy. Or should I call you Therese? Therese Blanchard. I will not achieve immortality through death like you and Nikki but by being lost. Simply lost.”

“Hold up just a gosh darn second there, Candy. Bella’s ride is on the way so let’s stop using the name Bella. It’s Laurence”

“Picked up by who?”

“You mean, by Whom?”

“Yes, whom? Her parents?”

“The doctor and his wife. The doc knows her by, Laurence. Her mom and dad will never find her.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“How much are they paying?”

“Travis, Your chained up with no chance of escape, your parents are dead, soon you will join them and your worried about Bella’s sale price. Haven’t you got bigger problems?”

“Just curious.”

“If you must know it’s roughly three thousand dollars.”

“Only three thousand? I thought more.”

“Bella do you know what trafficker’s do?”

“Nikki stop. The doctor and his wife are into organ harvesting. She will be treated like a queen.”

“They won’t make me go to school, I know that.”

“Bella there are so many things you won’t have to do anymore.”

“When are they going to pick her up? I’ll take my chances with the doctor.”

“They’re not interested in you, Randy.”

“Why because I’m gay?”

“You said it, not me.”

“Is that True Randy?”

“Sure is, Candy. You keep pictures of hero’s on your walls? Keep mine.”

“My camp buddy is gay? Bet your rethinking that boy boy, girl girl rule aren’t you, Mr. pedo Pastor.”

“It’s the end of your world, Travis and your only concern is that your camp buddy is gay and how much Bella – I mean Laurence – is being sold for. And I thought I was wired backwards.”

“You know Travis if you get too close you’ll become gay too. That happened to my brother in prison.”

“Shut up Nikki. Your brother's a punk.”

“Shut up Travis your whole family is dead. You should be crying.”

“Can’t you see what’s happening here? He’s playing us against each other. Picking away at our self confidence, enflaming our insecurities. This is just a test. At the end of the day we’re all walking out of here.”

“Oh Travis, if you only knew what was waiting for you at the end of the day.”

“Spoiler alert. Death”

“Nice attempt at gallows humor, Randy.”

“Travis if you were passing the test you wouldn’t be chained up.”

“Your not passing either, Candy.”

“No kidding, T. We trusted the wrong artist.”

“Hey listen up kids, one of the reasons you were chosen, in addition to being harrowed up in sin, was poor grades. You are all C and D students. Studies have shown that students with abysmal grades are more likely to get murdered.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I get good grades.”

Yes you do Bella. Studies have also shown that students who simply disappear get exceptional marks in school. Soon your parents will be giving a very emotional press conference where they will mention what a great daughter you are and such an outstanding student.”

“They always said I was a good girl.”

“And they are correct. On the other hand parents whose children get bad grades are reluctant to give interviews because they can’t brag about their good marks in school. So they resort to begging for help. They say anyone who has any information please call this number, we want closure. It’s all about them. Not you. Then someone like me walks into your life, becomes your fake friend and your parents think another adult who can do my job for me. They ignore all the warning signs. Their thinking friendship, I’m thinking grooming. If mommy and daddy stepped up and took you camping themselves you’d be going home on Monday instead of buried in a shallow grave nobody will find.”

“I ran away once.”

“Candy you ran straight to my front door. My Therese”

“Speaking of shallow graves have you dug them yet?”

“No why?”

“I used to do landscaping, I’m pretty good with a shovel and don’t mind lending a hand.”

“Nice try, Randy. There’s a back-hoe in the shed. Why break my back digging four shallow graves when I can dig one big one?”

“Hey you gave it a shot, Bro. Nice try.”

“Thanks Travis.”

“How is all this going to end, Tim? Preacher man.”

“Nikki? Haven’t I told you enough already? My Odile”

“All those dark nights we came running to you; such a good teacher. Sex and drugs and death would keep us young forever. And we believed you. The three of us. We played Therese, Odile and Laurence to your Balthasar. Every slutty pose down, every selfie was our ticket to immortality; ready to give our lives to your little death cult. But here we are chained up. Why are we chained up when we came voluntarily?”

“In case the muse had second thoughts, Candy. I would be stupid to think you’d suddenly come running when it was time to drink the Cool-aid.”

“You have no trust, Tim.”

“My bad, Candy.”

“You filled our minds, challenged our reasoning, made us think. Why? So we would say yes to your depravity? Every adult in my life said you were a good influence so I believed even though something inside said this is wrong.”

“My mother loved you. Anything you did was okay by her.”

“Your mother is a wise woman, Nikki. She knows her daughter, as savage as she is, deserved the knowledge I could impart. My teachings if you will.”

“She never said I had to die for your teachings.”

“How did you get like this anyway?”

“Born to it, Travis.”

“Why can’t you be born like this without hurting other people?”

“Randy, I asked the same question once to an ex-cop. He gave me this poem he had written for me on a piece of paper; said read it when temptation is at your doorstep.”

“Did he know you were psycho?”

“Yes but I hadn’t hurt anybody at that point. Except for some small animals.”

“Can you take the hoods off so we can hear better?”

“Sure Randy. I’ll remove your hoods. Remember when I first read this I hadn’t yet taken a human life. I was the same age you are. Here we go.

I have sins,

little misdeeds I hold close to my vest. They are small and unremarkable and, some would say, not worth repeating. Don't ask me to reveal them now at this late date in my life. I have kept them inside since the age of 9 or ten. I've collected others along the way, through the years. Small little things, here and there, hardly worth a mention. I've even stopped calling them sins. Instead I think of them as my unfortunate children. Orphans in a life of attempted righteousness.

I have sins.

They gather around me late at night when the house is quiet and dark. I pray, I promise, to let them go, turn them loose, turn my back on my poor, unfortunate children. For a short time I succeed in attempting to change the landscape so the ground is not so fertile a field to roam through. 

I have sins.

Time and again they have found their way back into my life, into my mind and actions. One night after heartfelt prayer I had a distinct feeling that I had been forgiven. Despite the many mistakes and repeat offenses I was offered another chance. Chances had been offered before on more than one occasion; a strong feeling and comforting. But days later in moments of weakness I fell back. 

I have sins.

There was the voice, the feeling, leading me into temptation, delivering me up to evil; small inconsequential evil. The voice was, like it had been on many occasions, comforting, gentle. I fought it by trying to remember the guilt and grief that would come after the commission of this sin. Pay attention to these poor unfortunate children, take each one by the hand, walk down that easy path if only for a little while.  You can return to a better life later, there's time enough for repentance.

I have sins.

You'll never know what they are, you won't hear a confession or a talk rehearsing how I was lost and now I'm found. Such talks lead the listener to assume repentance has taken place when it hasn't. Or that you will never repeat the mistake again.

I have sins.

A few, poor unfortunate children providing comfort late into the evening, guilt in the morning. Falling short of the glory and trying to feel comfortable with vast imperfection.

I have sins.

“Wow, you guys a pretty quiet. I’m going to put the bags back on and then we’re going to commence with the main event. The only lesson I have for you kids tonight is that, I am who I am and you are here only because I have failed to control my thoughts. I wish there was something more profound I could tell you but there it is; the world turns on small hinges.”

20 Years Later.

“Tim the campfire has burned out, it’s time to go home.” A hospital security guard tugged on my arm.

I didn’t resist when they cuffed my wrists and shackled my ankles together. The children around the fire were long gone, disappeared 20 years ago and buried somewhere; their bodies never recovered. These dense forests are my own personal museum, only I know where the art work is displayed.

Buried.

I would visit more often but that requires planning and escape. At 70 I no longer have the energy. The planning, the grooming, the bludgeoning, blood and burials are just a memory now but a memory that became more refined as time passed. I incorporated the study of art into these evil dreams. Over the years I came to think of myself as the artist rather than just the murderer, and my victims, willing participants, artist’s models, in a very personal form of performance art. I had dreamt them into nymphs while I was Satyr. Or the Abduction of Psyche. A woman who looked like she enjoyed the act of being taken away from where-ever. Stolen. I hoped Candy, Nikki and Bella enjoyed their journey as much as Psyche seemed to be enjoying hers. Artists no matter what they create are never criminals; eccentric maybe but never the monster I was made out to be. By turning victims into works of art I almost feel forgiven. I don’t have to think or remember how I beat four young teens to death and sold the fifth to a doctor and a woman in a pickup truck for a few thousand dollars. I'm quite sure Bella is dead. Why are my crimes bothering me now at this late date when they never bothered me before? Memento mori. Remember you must die.

Excerpt from T&T. The biography of Tim Todd. By Edouard Wladyslaw.

He stood there, chained up while guards from the hospital and local cops roamed through the campground looking for evidence. Of what? Once back in his room at the asylum he was given something to help him sleep. The nurse, swift with professional concern and uncommon kindness said, “‘you will be able to dream yourself into the world of dark shadows’ now.” He smiled recalling the words of Arnie Broklin. While dozing off Odile, Therese, Laurence, models for Balthasar Klossowski the artist, melted into Nikki, Candy and Bella. His own perfect slave-models. Instead of hanging on museum walls they were buried and free to roam the thick forests surrounding the hospital; ghosts unchained and happy with each changing season. He had given them their freedom. Three who would never grow old. They always came when he called.

Tim Todd died in his sleep at the age of 77.