Ethan Chapman’s Agony – From our book,
‘The Unconquerable Heart’
A Tormented Son’s state of Mind:
It was the summer of 1973; July 4 to be precise. The entire country was submerged in Independence festivities, bursting crackers and lighting up the evening sky. Young Ethan, then a fifteen-year-old, came running into the horse ranch, his home, in search of his mother, to show her the offer letter that he got from a prestigious university. The ranch was quite big and he excitedly shouted out for his mother, searching through the stables, thinking that she might be somewhere in there feeding the studs, their nightly dinner. But he couldn’t find her in any of the stable compartments. He had already checked their meagre dwelling, and she was not there either. Now the only other place, she could be at this time, was the barn where the hay was stacked. Expecting to find his mother there, he ran towards the barn, tightly clutching the offer letter as it fluttered to the wind.
The barn was a huge rectangular wooden structure with a gabled roof, a single big wooden door, on one of its smaller sides and four large grilled windows, on the lengthier backside. Ethan came running to the barn and pushed the door in, but it was locked from the inside, and all of a sudden he heard muffled cries and those cries resembled to be that his mother’s. Young Ethan was alarmed, and he feared for the safety of his mother. In his anxiety, the offer letter, from the University, involuntarily got slipped off his hands, and he banged on the door relentlessly with both his hands and shouted for his mother, but there was no response at the door. All he could hear were more squeals, coupled with the abusive jeering of multiple male voices.
The loud jeering only raised his anxiousness, and he ran towards the grilled windows on the backside to take a look into the barn, but alas the windows were almost eight feet high, making it difficult for him to reach out, so he emptied some of the wooden crates that were stacked with hay, dragged them down to the backside of the barn, upturned them, stacked them one above the other, and climbed them to reach out to one of the windows.
To his horror, he found his mother completely naked and facing the other side of the wall. She seemed to be gagged with some small ball in her mouth, her limbs were parted tightly and tied up against a Saint Andrews cross. A naked Tretan Bliecher, the haughty son of the same man who sired him, stood on an up sided wooden crate behind his mother, pulled her hair tightly and humped her mercilessly, even as she wailed in pain and bled from her crotch. There were five more of his fiendish friends in the barn along with him, and they all were also completely naked, and they sat on upturned wooden crates all around his mother and smoked pot, passing filthy comments, hooting, and goading Tretan over and again to tear the ‘filthy animal’ apart.
Young Ethan was devastated. How could Tretan do this to his mother? After all, even he knew that she was his late father’s mistress. She was more like a mother to him and cared for him as a child and Ethan too knew all that pretty well. Tretan was just a year younger to him and even called his mother ‘Mama’. How could he become so hideous all of a sudden? Pained by thoughts, he shouted, ‘Tretan! Bastard, what the fuck are you doing, man?’
Tretan’s friends looked up at him, ‘The hinny’s back, dude.’ one of them commented. Makayla Chapman helplessly squealed and nodded her head in shame having been spotted by her son in such an embarrassing situation.
‘Let him watch. He needs some fun, too.’ Tretan commented slyly, continuing to hump Ethan’s mother.
‘Tretan, you mother fuckin bastard, leave her now, or I’m gonna rip your balls off.’ Ethan growled tugging on the iron bars of the window.
‘Ungrateful bastard.’ Tretan muttered and turned to his friends, ‘Dick heads, go pin him down.’ he ordered them, even as he continued with his romp. Makayla was pained to hear that her young master was about to hurt her son. She squealed and resisted wildly tugging at her restrained limbs. But alas, the straps were too tightly secured. ‘Shut the fuck up, bitch.’ Tretan snarled at her holding her tightly by her ears and continuing to hump her with no regard for her feelings.
Eager cronies they were, Tretan’s fiends stormed out of the barn, as soon as they received the orders. Ethan was ready for them outside the barn door, he tried to push his way inside through them to save his mother, but five of them were too much for him to handle. They punched him and kicked him hard, until he could take no more, and he fell to the ground rolling himself into a cocoon, trying to protect himself helplessly and crying his heart out for his mother. The naked fiends then took turns to piss on him and young Ethan could do nothing, but just coil up and cover his head with his arms in shame. A while later, which seemed like ages for the heavily bleeding tormented son, the evil scion of the family, his mother served all her life, came out of the barn and stood before him.
‘Pretty big rumps, mama’s got. I’ve been pining for em for a long time.’ Tretan said standing over Ethan, wearing his pants. Pained with the hideous comment, Ethan tried to stand up to fight back, but Tretan’s friends promptly beat him down and put him back in his place.
‘Why? Why did you do all this?’ A subdued Ethan asked painfully covering his head with his arms, in a bid to protect himself from the fiends’ harsh kicks.
‘What do you mean why? Bro?’ Tretan said sarcastically. ‘She’s my slave, ain’t she? I can do as I please.’
Ethan, beaten and torn apart, growled, ‘That’s your mama, too.’
‘Shut the fuck up you bloody hinny.’ An enraged Tretan kicked Ethan in the gut with all his might, ‘I call her mama, it fuckin ain’t mean that big black ass is my mama.’ He roared meanly.
Tretan’s insensitive comment caused his fiendish friends to erupt into wild peals of laughter, and they all finally kicked him once again and left the place.
Ethan rolled in pain on the very offer letter he was so ecstatic about, it got crumpled beneath him. The evening skies slowly darkened but turned more and more translucent and colourful with each passing moment. Independence festivities had already quadrupled. Fireworks pillaged the sanity of the skies, as did despicable thoughts of anguish that run amok inside the consciousness of a teenaged Ethan Chapman, as he rolled in the mud, soiled with the ‘urine of hatred’ that reminded him he was not to be treated an equal even by a brother, who was born of the same sire as him. It was ironical that Ethan Chapman was revealed of this bitter truth by ‘GOD,’ on a day that actually and symbolically stood for ‘Equality and Liberation’ of the human spirit in modern history.
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