December 31, 2001: First Entry
I live in a small town in Oklahoma City where nothing bad is supposed to happen. In my town every family has their own fields where they grow their own crops. We all live in wood houses painted in different colors. My house is the only blue house on the street. Most of the houses are painted yellow.
My parents are both hillbillies and are missing one of their front teeth. Luckily I have all of mine. I attend a public school five minutes away from my house. All the kids have parents that are hillbillies as well. Everyone laughs at me in school because while they all talk about chickens and corn, I spend my free time playing with Milkshake, my best friend. He is a mixed breed with white spots covering his brown and black hair. He seems to be the only one who understands me and enjoys spending time with me. He used to my grandpa’s dog, but when grandpa passed away I took him to live with me.
In my town we don’t celebrate many special events except Thanksgiving and New Years Eve because that’s when the most harvest is done. People seem to have forgotten Christmas Eve, but I haven’t.
December 24, 2001. I went out into the fields with Milkshake trying to find Santa Claus and his reindeer. As we made our way through the corn plantations and I was trying to see through my foggy glasses, we had a strange encounter with a strange man.
“Hello. Who’s there? Is that you Santa Claus?” I said as we were walking through the fields. “Milkshake, what do you see? Why are you barking? These glasses don’t let me to see anything.”
“Hello,” said the stranger.
“Who are you? Milkshake, who is it?” I asked.
“You don’t know me Dylan, but I know you and you have somethin’ I want,” the man said with a strange voice.
I turned to Milkshake and whispered, “Don’t let me go.” Then I turned to the stranger and said, “What do you want? I have nothing for you.”
“I want somethin’ you and your grandpa took away from me,” he answered.
“Leave me alone. Come on Milkshake let’s go home Santa Claus is not here,” I responded.
“I’ll see you soon,” the stranger screamed as Milkshake and I ran away.
That was the day everything started. The stranger wanted something from me, but I didn’t know what he wanted. I spent sleepless nights imagining his dark slender figure appearing through my window. I didn’t know exactly what he looked like, but that night I was able to see that he was a tall strong man with dark hair. Every night, I would go out to the fields and I felt his presence, as if it were telling me that he would be coming for me soon. I never told this to anyone because others didn’t take me seriously. The things that were happening were a secret that I only shared with Milkshake.
On some nights the man would follow, but he didn’t say a word. I knew he was there because I could hear his footsteps. When I would turn around hoping to catch a quick glimpse at him, he would always hide behind a tree trunk. I was scared, and I could tell Milkshake was also scared. At least we had each other.
One night as Milkshake and I went into another one of our adventures, I didn’t hear the stranger’s footsteps. I thought he had finally realized that he had the wrong person. When we finally got to our spot, which was the tree with the yellow trunk, I heard an intense breathing. I looked back and there he was. This time I was with the stranger face to face. He had a big scar across his face. His hair was black and he had dark colored skin. My heart stopped beating and I turned pale. I could feel Milkshake stop moving and frightened.
The first words out of his mouth were “Give him to me now.”
The words couldn’t come out of my mouth.
“Hand me the dog and I ain’t gonna bother you ever again,” said the stranger.
“You’re not taking Milkshake. He’s my dog; he’s my best friend, not yours! So back off,” I finally said with my shaking voice. The stranger knew I was scared to death.
“Fine. If that’s what you want you are going to have to pay the consequences,” he said as he took out a sharp knife from his back pocket.
Milkshake started to make some weird noises (you know the kind of noise that a dog makes when he’s sad and scared.) I could tell he knew what the man was saying. He tried to walk towards the man, but I wouldn’t let him go. Every time I would pull the leash harder and harder towards me preventing him to get closer to the stranger. I didn’t know what to do. My nerves were interfering with my thoughts, I couldn’t think correctly. So I just screamed, “RUN! MILKSHAKE, RUN!”
As soon as I turned to run away the stranger grabbed me with his hands and threw me to the ground. I made sure I didn’t lose grip on Milkshake’s leash.
“You don’t know me, but I know you and your grandfather. Both of you seem to be the only one’s in the family that have a very special relationship with dog. Isn’t that true?” said the stranger.
“Yes,” I responded shaking.
The stranger continued, “Well little fellow let me tell you a story that way you can get to know me a little better. Twenty years ago, nine years before you were born, I used to help you grandpa in the fields. I would work in the fields everyday doin’ the hard work. Your grandpa was a nice man. He would give me money, food and just ‘bout everythin’ I needed. He was caring and loved to talk ‘bout everythin’. I used to live in the only yellow house there used to be. One day my wife was bakin’ some cookies for your grandpa ‘cause he loved my wife’s cookies. She used to make the best ones in town, but no’one would eat them ‘cause we are black. Your grandpa was the only one. I was on my way home to pick the cookies and bring ‘em to your grandpa. I smelled smoke, but I didn’t know from where it came from. When I got to my house I found it in red, orange flames. I searched fo’ my wife. She ain’t nowhere to be found. I went inside to find her. That’s where I got my scar. I pulled her out; she was burned, no pulse---dead. That dog you have there with you was her dog. She cared ‘bout him more than she cared ‘bout me. Your grandpa took the dog ‘cause he said I wasn’t capable of takin’ care of him. Then he fired me. I was left with nothin’, not even the dog, no money, no food, no house…no wife.”
“I’m sorry sir, I…I didn’t know anything. But Milkshake is my only friend. I love him and he loves me. Sir please don’t punish me for what my grandpa did,” I said sobbing and horrified at the story he had just told me.
“I ain’t got nothin’ in life worth fightin’ for, just that damn dog. That dog is the only thing I got left from my wife. Everythin’ burned,” said the stranger.
“My parents can give you a job, sir. You can start a new life. I promise, but please don’t take Milkshake away from me.”
The stranger grew furious and screamed; “I want nothin’ from your family anymore! I want nothin’ from this world anymore!”
I could tell he didn’t like scaring me nor did he really want Milkshake. He just wanted something to remind him of his wife; he wanted something to give him a reason to continue living.
Then in front of me he took out his knife again. He slowly placed it right under his chin and with his hand drew a circle around his neck. Slowly his body became covered in blood. I ran away scared of what I had just seen, and Milkshake ran right next to me. When I got home I saw policemen and police cars around my house. The first thing that crossed my mind at that moment was my parents. What if the stranger had killed them before following me into the fields?
“Oh there he is! Where were you? What happened? We were so worried we called the police,” my parents said as the hugged me.
I felt a sense of relief when I saw that both of my parents were alive. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Nothing happened, just took a longer walk this time,” I said to my parents. “I’m going to sleep everyone can go now, goodnight. I love you mom and dad.”
A week has passed and I still haven’t shared the story with my parents or the police. I have decided in this diary I will write down my secrets because sometime I feel like sharing my stories, but I know I shouldn’t. When I’m older I can remind myself of these events. But I have also decided that the stories I write here are secrets that will go to grave.