FORWARD

(This story is dedicated with love to my wife Debbie without whose support it could not have been told.)

As I sit here now to write down what I know I cannot help but wonder what you, the reader of this tale, may think. Will you believe that these events happened or will you just liken it to a bizarre story by a slightly demented writer? I could swear to you that all I relate here is true or I could label this as a work of fiction. What will, in the end, make you more comfortable and secure within your world where things, like those that I shall relate here, just do not happen?

The events that I will relate to you have been ongoing for years. I became part of those events in 1963 at 6 years of age when I first entered the house at 700. So dear reader, you did not have to wait till somewhere within the story to learn why this work is entitled "Seven Hundred" you now know that it is the street number where my story unfolds. Do not expect me to name the street nor to give true names to the town, people or places involved within this story. All have a right to be left undisturbed and at peace.

The house at 700, which is the focal point of this story, was what most would consider an all American house. Built over 150 years ago it was the type of house that Norman Rockwell would have placed his participants in. It was an artistic house, it's seasons  reminiscent of a Currier and Ives painting. How well I remember the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen, bacon and eggs popping grease onto the stove. I can still hear the sound of family gathered around the large, round dining room table it's mahogany top covered with Christmas cards, stamps and pens as everyone joined together to address holiday greetings. I can still see the glory of Grandmas rose garden as each plant and each bloom painted a rainbow picture of color against the white slat boards of the house. And I can still feel the air blowing my hair as I would try to get the porch swing to go higher than a porch swing was meant to go.

Yes, the house at 700 was what every child would dream of and what every sane person would dread for there was more going on within that house than the idyllic American dream. So read on and maybe you too will know what lurks at 700.

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Friday, March 24, 2006 07:09:12 AM

PROLOG

Four days is not that long within the scheme of things. That is what Hector Robinson kept telling himself over and over as he clutched his knees and rocked back and forth in the overstuffed chair. Hector liked this chair with its burgundy floral pattern and it's slight scent of old hay. It reminded him of Autumn which was his favorite time of year. He took every opportunity to sit in the chair and of course those opportunities came when "She" was not around. This was her chair, the chair she sat in as he conducted his business, the chair which was her throne of power. 

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Hector whispered though gritted teeth as he hit his fists upon the side of his head. Now he was up pacing the floor using the logic that had served him so well all these years. "Let's look at this from the point of what is best for all of us," Hector intoned. "Doris loves you. Doris has your best interests at heart. Doris protects you. Doris controls you... Oh, dear Lord what did I just say?" Hector dropped to his knees clutching the sides of his head, "of course not", he thought, "Doris does not control me and if she heard me say that she would send me to the waiting place." Hector did not like the waiting place and he shuddered to think of it. Hector knew what was in the waiting place as did Doris and that is why Doris used the waiting place to punish Hector. Doris knew how to punish Hector, she had been doing it since the incident. Hector liked to refer to it as the incident, it made it easier to handle and that of course was logical. 

"Label your anxieties," Hector often told his patients, "Give them a name for with a name they become familiar and not a stranger lurking in the dark." Hector knew about strangers in the dark for it had been a stranger in the dark who had seen him with his patient. It had been a stranger in the dark who had watched as he did the things with her that he would never dare do with Doris. It had been a stranger in the dark that sent the note asking for money not to tell Doris and when he had refused to pay it had been that same stranger in the dark who betrayed him to Doris. Hector never did find out who the stranger in the dark was so he had never been able to name him. All Hector knew was that since that time Doris never left him alone with his patients. She always kept an eye on him from her chair. 

Doris had all the windows within their home fitted with iron bars upon the outside. Doris had sealed all the locks within the house so that they could only be locked from one direction creating a sort of maze in which she was the key master. The front and rear doors were fitted with outside locks to which Doris had the only key and which would effectively turn their home into a prison. Logically, it made sense to Hector, after all he had strayed, he couldn't be trusted and Doris loved him enough to protect him. Doris was a Saint. Doris had stayed with him and had found the solution to their problems. The solution that led to the incident. "No," Hector screamed out, "Doris is evil, Doris controls me, Doris wants me dead!" Hector knew that Doris did not want him dead, Doris could not afford to have Hector dead, it was not logical. After all was not Hector the most successful psychiatrist in Auburn, Kansas? Hector laughed. In this age where psychiatry was the new science Hector Robinson was the only psychiatrist in Auburnville, Kansas so of course that made him the most successful. It also made him one of the richest men in town and maybe, Hector thought to himself, maybe this is why Doris had stayed. "Get that thought out of your head," Hector said out loud, "You know Doris loves you and after all 4 days is not so long in the scheme of things."

Four days is how long Doris had been gone. Doris had left before, locking him within the house but never this long. Usually one maybe two days Doris might be gone but that was logical, after all someone had to take care of personal errands and Hector knew that logically it had to be Doris because Hector could not be trusted. But now it had been four days. "Why is she gone so long?" Hector muttered. "Where is she? Has she finally had enough of me and left?" Hector knew it was possible despite how successful he was he knew that Doris could leave him because he was a pathetic creature. How could Doris love him? His mousy brown hair, thick glasses and slight frame made him a sorry excuse of a man but oh what a psychiatrist he was. Always with the right answers. Hector smiled to himself as he laid back upon his couch thinking of his patient and how that one time he had the right answer for her. She was beautiful, green eyes, hair the color of fiery autumn leaves and what she saw in him Hector did not know. As he thought of her, staring at the chandelier overhead Hectors hand slipped down into his trousers, touching himself Hector slipped into the place of dreams. 

Next Month Chapter One - The Homecoming.  

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