Mother Superior
Jr. Member
For at least 15 years when I was a kid, we used to spend all of our summers in a creaky old wooden shack. My dad was a teatcher so he had all summer off and spent it with my sister and I.
I loved the shack, we were about a 10 minutes drive from the lake were we spent every day. The beach we used to go to was in a provincial park, so you had rangers and park employees roaming around.
One lady that worked at the park used to bring her kids with her sometimes, and she had two sons that were around my age, Pat and Carl. I ended up befriending them when I was maybe 9 or 10 years old.
I saw them every summer for years and we always had good fun. They would bring out the country boy in me that I was always trying to tame (Lord only knows why I was doing so).
They were both very honest and friendly, I never had any kind of negative experience with these boys.
At one point when I was maybe 16, I declared myself too old for summers at the shack and stopped going. My younger sister kept going and remained friends with the boys, and Carl, the younger of the two brothers, eventually became her boyfriend.
Fast forward about two years after I stopped seeing the boys. By this point my sister was not in a relationship with Carl anymore and had stopped spending her summers at the shack.
We hadn't had any news from the boys for over a year at that point, this was befor facebook mind you. My sister gets up one morning, visibly distraught. We aske her what's up, she says she had the worst nightmare.
She had dreamnt of Pat, the older brother of the pair. She said he was horribly mangled and torn, bleeding and twisted.
She could make up an expression of panic, pain and incomprehension on what was left of his face.
Tears were coming out of his eyes, and he would cry out to my sister. He was asking fo help, asking to know were he was and what was going on with him.
He said the pain was overhelming and was asking my sister to help him any way she chould. Of course she could not help him, and started crying because of how powerless she felt.
She keept telling us how crazy real it all felt, how she could not understand how her mind twisted and destroyed his body that way.
Later on in the day we got a call from my dad's buddy Hans, he was the neighbour of the boy's parents.
He told us Pat was dead. pat was coming back from a party late in the night, fell asleep at the wheel, and drove into a concrete wall at about 140 km/h (about 87 miles an hour).
Needless to say his remains were in a state were all you could do was cremate them.
We were shaken.
And it was not the last time this happened to my sister...
I loved the shack, we were about a 10 minutes drive from the lake were we spent every day. The beach we used to go to was in a provincial park, so you had rangers and park employees roaming around.
One lady that worked at the park used to bring her kids with her sometimes, and she had two sons that were around my age, Pat and Carl. I ended up befriending them when I was maybe 9 or 10 years old.
I saw them every summer for years and we always had good fun. They would bring out the country boy in me that I was always trying to tame (Lord only knows why I was doing so).
They were both very honest and friendly, I never had any kind of negative experience with these boys.
At one point when I was maybe 16, I declared myself too old for summers at the shack and stopped going. My younger sister kept going and remained friends with the boys, and Carl, the younger of the two brothers, eventually became her boyfriend.
Fast forward about two years after I stopped seeing the boys. By this point my sister was not in a relationship with Carl anymore and had stopped spending her summers at the shack.
We hadn't had any news from the boys for over a year at that point, this was befor facebook mind you. My sister gets up one morning, visibly distraught. We aske her what's up, she says she had the worst nightmare.
She had dreamnt of Pat, the older brother of the pair. She said he was horribly mangled and torn, bleeding and twisted.
She could make up an expression of panic, pain and incomprehension on what was left of his face.
Tears were coming out of his eyes, and he would cry out to my sister. He was asking fo help, asking to know were he was and what was going on with him.
He said the pain was overhelming and was asking my sister to help him any way she chould. Of course she could not help him, and started crying because of how powerless she felt.
She keept telling us how crazy real it all felt, how she could not understand how her mind twisted and destroyed his body that way.
Later on in the day we got a call from my dad's buddy Hans, he was the neighbour of the boy's parents.
He told us Pat was dead. pat was coming back from a party late in the night, fell asleep at the wheel, and drove into a concrete wall at about 140 km/h (about 87 miles an hour).
Needless to say his remains were in a state were all you could do was cremate them.
We were shaken.
And it was not the last time this happened to my sister...
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