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The following fictional story is being reposted by Mr Double.  If you are the author of this story and would like to receive proper recognition (an Author's Page at my website), contact me at mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.




Subject: Little Cindy  Part 2  by Bill the Impaler
          



                    Little Cindy  Part 2











     "You remember me, don't you, Little Cindy?  Hmmmm?  Yes, you

remember me.  We had a little understanding, didn't we?  A little

meeting of the minds, so to speak."



     He leaned down so his nose was nearly touching hers.  He stunk

and she started to pull back.  Mr. Rupert squeezed her arm tighter

and shook her hard, rattling her teeth.



     "But you can't get away, my dear.  You can never 'get away'

from me.  Too bad, so sad.  Life's a bitch, and then you die. 

Can't fight fate, or you'll be late.  We're goin' down together my

little sweet plum, a-l-l-l-l-l-l the way down, way, way down, plop

plop fizz fizz, gonna grind those gears, sweetums....."





     Now, the conscious part of Little Cindy's mind didn't have any

idea what Mr. Rupert was talking about.  But another part of her

mind, deep down inside, did.  It knew EXACTLY what he was talking

about.  She thought suddenly of her mother, waiting at home, and of

her older brother, Johnnie, at the roller-rink now with his

friends.  She wanted to be with them now so badly, she could taste

it.  She wanted to snuggle into her mother's arms, to hug and kiss

her, to tell her she loved her....  But she couldn't.  She was

here, not there.  She was standing in a cold lake, with Mr.

Rupert's hand around her arm, with her heart in her stomach,

churning and churning, the tears trying to well up and cascade down

her soft cheek, but unable to, banished now and forever....





     "How about a nice piece of chocolate cake, Little Cindy? 

Little girls LOVE chocolate cake!  C'mon, let's take a little walk

to my place.   It's not too far from here.  We'll cool off, have
some cake and lemonade and shoot the shit.  Waddaya say?"



     "I gotta get home.  My momma's gonna be worried."



     "Yeah, well, you just got here.  I saw you come up.  She won't

miss you for a little bit.  I think she'd be disappointed if her

little girl weren't polite to adults, don't you?  You wouldn't want

to be impolite to lil ol' me.  I get really pissed off at little

kids with no manners.  Makes me want to pound a little respect into

them, know what I mean?"



     Little Cindy was really scared now.  She wanted to run, but it

was too late, and Rupert had her arm in a vise grip, hurting her.



     Rupert turned and began to walk toward the shore, pulling her

along with him.  They climbed out of the water.  A few dark clouds

had rolled in, obscuring the sun.  Rupert released her arm and

reached down to pick up her tennis shoes.



     "Don't try to run away, Little Cindy.  I'm bigger and faster,

and when I catch you, you'll be REALLY sorry," he said as he

straightened up, her tennis shoes in one hand and her toy boat in

the other.  "Let's go.  This way."



     They began walking down a narrow trail through the woods that

ran parallel to the shoreline, Little Cindy in front and Rupert

behind.  As they walked, Rupert began to whistle.  Little Cindy

recognized it.  It was "Whistle while you work," from a Walt Disney

picture she had seen.  She had a hard time walking.  Her legs were

weak and shaky.  She stopped suddenly and turned back toward Mr.

Rupert.



     "Are you going to hurt me, Mr. Rupert?" she asked, her voice

cracking.



     Mr. Rupert stopped, put his head back, and laughed and

laughed.  He laughed so hard, she thought he was going to choke or

something.



     "What?  Me?  Hurt somebody?  Jesus Christ, kid, you've been

watching too much crap on t.v.  Kids nowadays got nothin' but mush

for brains.  Hurt you?  Why, Little Cindy, you're just the cutest

little girl I ever saw.  Who would ever want to 'hurt' a helpless

little child like you!  The very idea!  You know, just thinking

about it makes me sick to my stomach.  Kinda like thinking about

stomping a little kitten to death.  Whew!  BAD thoughts, huh?  Bad

thoughts will get you in trouble, trust me.  They kinda burble and

gurgle and slosh around in the old brain 'till they nearly bust

your head open from the pressure of all that built up nastiness. 

Next thing you know, you're out looking for someone giving away

free kittens.  And before you know it, you've got that cute,

helpless kittie home and locked up in the old microwave, ready for

a little Mr. Science experiment.  Nope, I wouldn't THINK of hurting

you.  Now move along there.  Quite dawdling, or I'll have to knock

your fucking teeth in, sweetie."



     A few minutes later, Little Cindy and Mr. Rupert came into a

clearing with Mr. Rupert's trailer in the center.  There were four

or five broken-down cars on blocks scattered across the "yard."  A

mangy, grey dog tied up to one of the junkers barked viciously at

them as they approached.



     "Don't worry!  That's just Fuckface.  He won't bite you if you

don't get too close to him," Rupert said.  He guided her up and

into the trailer.  The inside was dingy and stunk of wet dog hair

and various other disagreeable odors that Little Cindy couldn't

place.  In fact, it smelled like the windows had never once been

opened.  There were broken and partially disassembled toasters, tv

sets, microwave ovens, power tools, radios, clocks, coffee

machines, blenders, and various and sundry other technological

flotsam accumulating everywhere. 



     He pointed to a torn and battered ottoman in the center of the

room, and told her to sit down.  She sat, shivering violently even

though it was terribly hot and muggy, and wrapped her arms around

herself.  



     He sat her toy boat on a shelf across the room from her, next

to a torn teddy bear.  He went into the kitchen and opened the

refrigerator.



     "Damn!  Oh well, guess I ate the last of that chocolate cake. 

How about some month-old pea soup?  We can scrape off the mold if

it's not to your taste.  Hee!  Hee!"



     Mr. Rupert returned, popping open the top of a can of beer,

and sat in a big reclining chair directly in front of Little Cindy. 

He took a long sip, then belched loudly.



     "Well, well, well...  Here we are, finally.  You knew all

along we'd get together, ever since you first saw me, didn't you,

Little Cindy?  We were kind of meant for each other, if you know

what I mean.  Aww, you're shivering, poor thing.  Must be your wet

t-shirt.  I suggest you take it off before you catch your death of

cold."



     "Do-o-o I have to?  I don't want to.  I just want to go home."



     "Of course you have to.  I'm telling you to take it off.  Now

take the goddamn thing off before you commence to make me upset!"



     Little Cindy slowly removed her t-shirt, folded it, and laid

it on her lap.



     "There.  That's better.  Now I think it's time we got some

things straight, you and I.  There aint nobody gonna help you,

Little Cindy.  I know your daddy died in an auto accident a couple

years ago.  And your mommy aint exactly king kong.  In fact, if

your mommy, or anybody else, EVER finds out anything that happens

here, I'm afraid something' even worse than a fucking auto accident

is gonna happen to her.  And you know the worse part, Little Cindy? 

If that happens, it's gonna be YOUR FAULT!  You'll be the one who

hurt her bad, because you TOLD!  That's right.  You really love

your mommy, don't you?"



     Little Cindy fought back the tears, and slowly nodded.



     "Of course you do.  Little girls love their mommies a whole

lot!  And the last thing you'd ever want in the whole world is to

do something to make her get hurt REAL BAD, right?"



     She nodded again.



     "Well, there we have it!  It's simple as pie!  You come here

and pay me a little visit every once in a while, we have some FUN,

and mommy is safe and sound, all because Little Cindy was a good

girl and never told anyone ANYTHING!  I can tell you're a good

girl, too!  Such a very good girl."



     To this point, Little Cindy had avoided looking in Mr.

Rupert's eyes.  She looked up now, and stared into them.  They were

black, lightless, nothing, bottomless....  She felt her gorge begin

to rise.  She gagged slightly, but kept it down.  "No tears, no

nothing for Mr. Rupert", she kept repeating to herself.  "I'll

never let anything happen to momma.  I'll never tell.  I'll be

strong.  I'll be what I have to be...  Oh, God, help me, please, I

don't want to be here.  I'll never be a bad girl.  I want to be in

bed again this morning, smelling momma's coffee like every morning, 

and start everything over, another chance...."



     But God didn't listen, or He was asleep, or gone fishing or

something, because nothing changed.  Nothing went away like a bad

dream does.  And she couldn't switch it off, like the TV, when the

scary part comes on.  Yes, Little Cindy was stuck.  Stuck in a bad

way, and about to learn a lesson that life teaches a few unlucky

people.



     Now I've been thinking if I should tell you all the details

about what happened to Little Cindy that afternoon in Mr. Rupert's

trailer.  It makes me sick, and it makes me want to cry.  But grown

men don't cry, and if Little Cindy had the strength not to cry, I

guess it's up to us to at least try and understand what she went

through.  So I'm going to tell you.  If you don't want to hear it,

I'll understand, but I kinda feel we all owe it to her to know the

worse.  So here goes:





(to be continued)