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Earworm

The mind plays strange games.

By Mark GagnonPublished 10 months ago 4 min read
5
Earworm
Photo by Derek Story on Unsplash

1959 was developing into a historic year for the U.S. and the world. America had added two more stars to its flag, as Alaska and Hawaii became the forty-ninth and fiftieth states. Fidel Castro wrested power away from the corrupt Cuban government and installed a communist dictatorship. The cold war between the Soviet Union and the U.S. along with Europe, was going strong. Yes, 1959 was the precurs0r of what would become world-changing events.

It was a sunny, warm September afternoon. School had just resumed after what felt like an endless summer for 9-year-old Benny. He was one of the lucky kids who lived close enough to school to ride his bike instead of taking the bus. It was only his first day back, but he had so much to tell his parents about school events that his legs couldn’t peddle fast enough. The scariest part of the day was when Benny and his class had to hide under their desks for an atomic bomb drill. That really bothered him.

Benny raced his bike up the driveway, then locked his brakes, sliding to a skidding stop. He loved stopping like that. It made him feel like a racecar driver. Benny could hear a song floating through the back porch screen door. It was called “Sleep Walk” and was very popular. The electric guitars seemed to cast a spell on everyone who listened to them. Benny burst through the door and immediately stopped in the kitchen. Everything was wrong.

His mother always greeted him with a kiss when he got home, followed by cookies and milk. Instead of a snack on the table, his father’s briefcase was resting there. “Sleep Walk” continued to play on the record player as Benny rushed into an empty living room. He bolted up the stairs to his parent’s bedroom and froze. Both his father and mother lay sprawled across their bed, covered in blood. The closet door was open and the safe where his father kept work papers and money was open and empty. Benny fell to his knees and sobbed uncontrollably. “Sleep Walk” played once again.

The next nine years were a blur. Benny was shuffled from foster home to state institution and back until he aged out of the system. His parent’s killers were never caught. Benny’s father worked on special projects for a government contractor. The police decided the killers were foreign agents stealing secrets. It didn’t matter to Benny where he lived. Whenever it was quiet, the same song continually looped in his mind. There was no escaping it.

Two days after his 18th birthday, Benny received his draft notice. In 1968, most draftees ended up in Vietnam. Benny was no exception. It was in the jungles of Nam that the tune in his head turned useful. In firefight after firefight, Benny tuned out the danger and turned up the volume on his private radio. He felt no fear, no rage, and no remorse. The music made killing as natural as breathing. He was sleepwalking through the mayhem.

The army pinned medals on his chest and sent him back to the States when his tour was over. They discharged him and, once again, he was abandoned and alone. Benny drifted from town to town, working when he could find work, and stealing when he had to. He was standing across the street from a house that looked like an easy target when a young boy stopped his bike next to him.

The boy looked up at Benny and smiled. “That’s my house, mine and my mom’s. It used to be my dad’s too, but he was killed in the war. Were you in the war, mister?”

“What’s your name, son?”

Before the boy could answer, his mother came out and walked to the curb.

“Who’s your friend, Benny?”

“The boy smiled, “He was in the war just like Dad.”

“Thank you for your service, Mr.…?”

There was a brief hesitation as Benny caught his breath. “It’s Benny, the same as your son.”

“Now that’s a strange coincidence. Well, Benny, I’m about to make sandwiches. You’re welcome to join us. Think of it as my way of saying thanks.”

“That’s very kind of you, Ms.?”

“Norah.”

The music in Benny’s head didn’t go away, but for the first time in all these years, the song faded.

(If you're not familiar with the song Sleep Walk by Santo and Johnny it can be found on multiple sites.)

coping
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About the Creator

Mark Gagnon

I have spent most of my life traveling the US and abroad. Now it's time to create what I hope are interesting fictional stories.

I have 2 books on Amazon, Mitigating Circumstances and Short Stories for Open Minds.

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Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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    Well-structured & engaging content

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Comments (3)

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  • Test10 months ago

    Terrific story. I could feel his pain💙Anneliese

  • Benny's childhood was so traumatic. Felt so sorry for him. I loved the ending!

  • Gokila10 months ago

    Fantastic one!😍

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