Following in the Footsteps of an Idol

         "Finally!" exclaimed the sandy-haired boy. It only took five attempts, but the young boy accomplished the goal he set out for himself. With a self-satisfying smile, Kyle, looked up to see his mother standing there.

         "You need to clean up this mess before the sun goes down," said the bulky woman standing in the doorway. Her graying-blond hair surrounded her weathered face. Any beauty that may have existed had been replaced by deep set wrinkles.

         "I will have it clean before bed."

         "No, you will have it cleaned before I light your candles."

         "But, mom..." he said with a slight pout on his face.

         "I will hear no excuses, last time you waited until after sunset, you didn't clean up properly and this room smelled for days."

         "Fine, I will clean it up right now."

         The boy stomped off to begin his task of cleaning up the mess he made. He went out to the well to get a fresh bucket of water to heat up on the hearth. He collected rags, lye soap, and placed them in his room next to his completed project. He returned back to the hearth, where his water was now hot enough to use.

         Kyle, looked down at his accomplishment and a wide grin spread across his freckled face. The satisfaction of knowing he would now be able to follow his father in the family business brought a sense of pride to the boy.

         He couldn't wait to show his father the precision he had opened up the cat. He couldn't wait til he learned how to properly disembowel his patient. Other than the cat coming loose from one of its restraints, the procedure of the torture went without a hitch. Of course, the fragile looking young boy had the bloody marks on his arms as a result of his poor knot tying. Yet, it was worth it because the cat was opened up and still had the energy to fight back. It just proved to the boy that he had what it took to begin his training on a corpse.

         If he had cut the tabby too deep, he would have killed it instantly, like the first two he had tried to open up. He couldn't believe how far blood could spray across a room when you cut too deep and in the wrong spot across the torso. That was the mess his mother was speaking of. The spray of crimson water rained down all over his walls and floor, as well as himself. The aroma of dried blood lingered in the room for days as he had to find all the droplets that had flown across the room when he hit the artery.

         The rabbits he had practiced on prior to starting on cats had been rather uneventful and clean by most standards. Of course, rabbits don't fight back the same way and can't cause damage if they do get out of their restraints. It was easy tying the ropes around the rabbit's feet and forcing them to lay flat on their backs. The rabbits were to be eaten so if he made a mistake opening them up, his mother would finish dressing them out for meals.

         His father told him that if he could successfully open up a cat and keep it alive til he arrived home from work, he would get him a corpse to practice on. The corpse would allow him to understand the human body better and find ways to torment it, but not kill the subject until it was time. The job of an executioner seemed great. It would be great to torture the guilty of crimes they had committed against the "Crown" and its citizens. Kyle wanted to perform torture and executions, not petty crimes. Petty crimes were dull to watch because people would only lose a hand. He loved watching his idol, father, torture the criminals slowly. To hear those evil wrongdoers beg for mercy made Kyle smile. They were scum, they needed to be punished for their crimes. Others needed to see the punishment that was awaiting them if they did anything wrong. It was a job that would always be needed, as the poor were always doing something illegal.

         The cat, flat on its back, made a small mew. Its fur and skin were pinned back to expose its innards. Blood lay in pools below it, but its racing heart was visible behind the ribs and chest bones. The contracting and expanding lungs could be seen behind the skeletal system as well. Proud of what he was looking at, Kyle, pet the top of the cat's head and began his task of cleaning up the blood that had now stained his bedroom floor. He carefully washed his scalpels and tweezers to ensure no trace of blood could be seen on them.

         "Mom!" the boy yelled out to his mother. "I'm finished."

         His mother came walking back into the doorway. "Looks good, now you just have to make sure you can keep that cat alive until you father comes home."

         "I know, but I think I got it perfect this time, so I am not worried about it."

         "I hope you can keep this one alive, I am tired of having to find cats for you to practice on. It will be easier once you just have to deal with a corpse. It won't be messy and we can keep it out in the barn."

         "I can't wait!" he exclaimed, with a happy gleam in his hazel eyes.

         "I would suggest you worrying about keeping flies off the cat for now and keeping it alive."

         "Okay," he said as he picked up the blood soaked rags and pot of water.

         She tussled his hair as he walked by "Go throw that water out and put your tools away so you can get back to keeping that thing alive." She proudly smiled as she watched him finishing his clean up.

         Kyle, sat patiently at the side of the cat ensuring that it remained alive. He would periodically touch parts of the exposed insides to illicit a response from the cat. He was especially fascinated with the liver and stomach. He would gingerly push on the stomach to cause a small depression, only to be fascinated when it would return to normal. He noticed that when he did so it caused the cat to make the loudest mew, indicating it was still alive. He absentmindedly began stroking the cats head.

         He began imagining that the cat was his worst enemy, George that lived just three houses down. He could hear George, begging for mercy as he lay wide open on a table. Kyle, knew it was wrong to think this way, but if George, ever did anything illegal, he would love to be the executioner. George, had been bullying Kyle since they were eight. Kyle, was a head smaller than most of the boys his age in town and a good many girls. George, would torment him about this fact. Even three years later, Kyle was still shorter than most of the boys and only a few of the girls now.

         "You should dress up like a little girl," is all Kyle could hear in his mind. George's, grating voice rang through his ears.

         "Shut-up, George, you oaf."

         "Did you guys hear that, the little girl wants me to shut up," the heavy-set, brown haired boy snickered.

         "One day you're going to pay for the way you treat me."

         "Whatever you poor excuse of a person. If your parents were smart, they would have killed you at birth. To waste their one child on you was stupid."

         By the King's decree, no family was to have more than one child without the "Crown's" consent. Parent's that had more children without consent had to give the child to the "Crown". If a boy was handed over he would be raised and placed into the Army. If a girl was handed over she would be raised to either a servant, concubine, or sold into slavery.

         This set the smaller boy off as he charged the bigger boy. George was caught unprepared, but his sheer size kept him from tumbling over. The larger boy sat on the smaller boy and began to box his ears. Kyle used his arms and hands to block his ringing ears the best he could, but he could feel the knuckles finding their mark. When George tired of beating Kyle he decided it was time to humiliate him. He spit into Kyle's mouth and held it closed until he swallowed.  He then turned the tiny boy over and spanked him like his father would. Kyle fought back the tears of the humiliation, as many of the town girls and boys were watching and laughing. Finally getting away, Kyle had decided he would wait until the time was right to get even with the larger boy. When George, was not expecting it, he was going to pay.          

         Kyle snapped back to the present at hearing his father's voice. He couldn't wait to show his father what he had done. He knew his father would be proud of him. Heavy footsteps could be heard coming towards the young boy's room. His father's statuesque figure filled the doorway. Where Kyle's, mother's beauty had faded, his father never lost his chiseled look. His hair was still brown, with no signs of graying and his muscles were still taught under his shirt. His eyes still shown deep blue, like the beautiful sapphires the Queen wore in her crown.

         "What's this I hear that you have something to show me," he said with a burly grumble.

         "I finally did it. Look!"

         Getting down on one knee to see what the boy had down, the mountain of a man looked closely at the work his son had done. His father pet the cat's head then opened one of its eyes. The cat's eye dilated, bringing a small smile of pride on the man's face. He then began inspecting the incision and the exposed vitals. He found there were no tears in the fur and the skin had been pulled back with deft precision. The stomach, liver, and intestines had been unscathed. The heart and lungs reacted with regular intervals as they should. The man reached out to his son and hugged him tight.

         "I am so proud of you. It's now time to get you that corpse," he said in deep, gruff voice.

         "When can we get it?"

         "We can go right now before it's dark if you like. Go grab a shovel and wheel barrel and we'll go get you that body."

         With youthful enthusiasm, Kyle, ran out to the barn to get the shovel. Kyle wheeled up to the front of the house where his father was waiting for him. The two headed out to the prison, Kyle with the wheel barrel and shovel and his father with the lantern. They were going to get the corpse from the prison graveyard.

         "How old were you when you got your corpse?"

         "I was about your age, maybe a year older."

         "How old were you when you did your first execution?"

         "I was about eighteen before my father let me do an execution by myself. I was fifteen when he let me assist him for the first time."

         "Were you scared?"

         "I was the first time I helped. In fact, I threw up when we were done."

         "Did you really?"

         "Yes, and your grandfather laughed at me. Then he told me he had done the same the first time. He then took me to the pub to have my first drink. Told me that I had become a man. It was the proudest moment in my life up to that point."

         "I hope I don't throw up."

         "You probably will. Nothing can prepare you for what happens up there. You have an audience watching everything you are doing and trying to give you instructions. You also have the man to be executed family there. If he has a wife and kids' you can't bear to hear them crying, but you must remain resolve with the task at hand. Then, when you make you first incision and you hear the guilty cry out in pain, it curdles your blood the first time. I felt dirty the first time I heard that cry, like I was wrong and I shouldn't be doing what I was doing." The big man fell silent for a second, as if pondering his first execution.

         "Yet, you need to remember that his wouldn't be on the executioner's block if he hadn't done something wrong. After the first time and me losing my insides, I haven't been afraid since. I know it's my job and that it must be done."

         "Do you every worry that someone is really innocent?"

         "That's not for me to decide. He is given an opportunity to prove his innocence. If he is unable to, there is nothing I can do about it, other than do my job. Still up for doing it?"

         "Yes, I can't wait til I get my chance to do it."

         "Don't get too excited. It's nothing to be excited about. Always remember, it's a job."

         "Okay. Have you ever thought of using you skills on someone you don't like?"

         "No! That would make me no better than a murderer."

         "Not even once," the boy pressed. "Not even someone that did you wrong or stole something from you."

         "No, not even once." His dad stopped and looked down at his son with penetrating blue eyes. "Why are you asking?"

         "Just curious, that's all. Seems like it would be hard to separate job from having something done wrong to you."

         "It's not hard, it's part of the code I have to follow, just like you will." his father said. "Is there something you need to tell me now? I cannot allow your training to continue if you don't think you can separate emotion from work." His father said through slitted eyes.

         "No. I will be able to do it. I was just wondering, that is all. I wouldn't let you down."

         "That's good to hear."

         The two continued their walk in silence until they reached the prison. The town was beginning to wind down as dusk had replaced the afternoon sun. The smells of cooking fires coming from the homes mixed together, confusing the nose.

         The guards, recognizing the burly executioner and his smaller stature son, allowed them into the graveyard. Tonight the two had been fortunate. A freshly deceased corpse had just been thrown out so they were not going to have to dig up a body. They loaded up the body and began the trek home.

         Arriving back at the barn, the two placed the body in the barn and began the process of replacing all the fluids in the body with a strong smelling chemical that Kyle's dad said would keep the flies away, but also preserve the body. Kyle was fascinated at the precision he father worked in draining the body without leaving much of a mark on it. The putrid smell of the chemicals that were going into the body turned his young stomach. He was able to keep himself from vomiting and finished watching his dad complete his work.

         "We are all done. Let's go inside and get some food before we go to sleep." Kyle's father said.

         The next day brought Kyle, wide awake and excited to begin his new task, dissecting a corpse. In the back of his mind he wished he could practice on a real person, but he was happy not to be using cats anymore. Kyle, quickly dressed, grabbed his tools, and ran out to the barn to find his corpse waiting for him.

         Upon arriving at the body, Kyle, began working on opening the body up. He carefully place his scalpel against the corpse's sternum and cut to below the navel. He then slid his scalpel perpendicular from the top and bottom of the previous incision, creating a double-door look over the abdomen. Kyle, next took his tweezers to carefully pull the skin back to expose the first layer of fatty tissue. There was still some blood evident as he pulled the skin back. The excitement was getting to him and he just wanted to pull the skin back, but he knew he had to be careful. He didn't want to ruin the corpse and knew this would be the only one he would ever get.

         "What are you doing?" said a voice behind him.

         Kyle pulled harder that wanted and tore the skin back too fast. He knew that irritating voice. In anger he threw down his tweezers. "What do you want, asshole?"

         George replied, "That's not a nice way to talk to me."

         "I am busy working here. Leave me alone," Kyle said as he turned to face the larger boy.

         "I will leave you alone, when I decide to leave you alone," George pushed Kyle out of the way to get better look at the dead body. "Cool, let me do some cutting."

         "No! You don't know what you are doing."

         George grabbed the scalpel, "Watch me, I will show you I know what I am doing.

         As George placed the scalpel against the skull to cut the scalp off, Kyle grabbed the shovel and hit the larger boy over the head. Kyle threw the shovel down and stared at George's limp body. His first thought was that he had killed him. Bending down to George's face, Kyle put his hand in front of the other boy's nose and felt a breath. He was still alive. He was the perfect subject.

         Kyle readied the other end of the barn to receive George's still unconscious body. Tying him carefully and tightly, Kyle was ready to begin his first execution.

         Awakening from his unconscious state, George looked around. His head was throbbing and when he attempted to move his arms and legs he realized he was tied down. Lifting his head ever so slightly, he noticed Kyle staring at him. "Untie me, now!"

         "Do you know why executioners practice torturing criminals?" Kyle asked.

         "Who cares," George said as he struggled to get loose from his ties.

         "You should care," Kyle said with a far off, sinister look in his eyes. "It's to teach the criminal a lesson. To make the wrongdoer suffer before death."

         "I'm not a criminal, stupid!" George cried out in fear.

         "Aren't you? You have bullied and embarrassed me our whole life."

         "I am so sorry, Kyle. Please, let me go," tears began streaming down the larger boys temples.

         "Now you are sorry. It's too late. It's time to pay for your crimes against me."

         George began screaming in pure fear. Kyle took a rag and shoved it in George's mouth.

With a smile of pleasure and want Kyle placed the scalpel to George's chest...

         Kyle screamed...He had awoken from his favorite memory to see is father over him, scalpel against his chest as he lay on the executioner's block. Kyle's scream turned to a smile, he knew that at least it was his idol taking his life.