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The battle between Good and Evil rages within all of us. This is my story. LITTLE BOY LOST Fiction by Emerson Poe
I
ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more. - Bob Dylan
Now I been lookin' for a job but it's hard to find - Bruce Springsteen PROLOGUE The year is 2003. The month is November. Dylan Berkowitz is feeling lost in this world. He is 37 and, looking back upon his life, he strangely remembers never quite fitting in. Some people are just not meant to be happy. After all, with 6 billion people in the world, surely not everyone is entitled to happiness. Dylan sips his coffee. He is at a Seattle coffeehouse, surrounded by books that make him feel safe. If only he could stop all the thoughts in his head and allow himself and his aching mind the chance to be at peace, at least for a little while. He wants to die, but he had hoped before his death, the mystery of life and his purpose on this earth would become clear. Four years ago, he embraced the devil inside his soul and embarked on a dark journey, but now he is tired. Dylan Berkowitz never found the answers he was searching for. This is his story.
CHAPTER 1 A WORLD FREE OF ANXIETY Dylan’s childhood was a good one. He spent his early days reading comic books and dreaming of a world made up of superheroes. He still remembers the first comic book his father brought home – the Amazing Spider-Man #119. The year was 1973 and he was in 1st Grade. Dad was cool, he thinks back. He was a good man. That being said, Dad was off the hook in terms of who to blame for his chronic malaise. It seems a bit odd to Dylan that his life seems framed by memories of comic books. Comic books and vacations to Surf City, New Jersey. Those were good days, thinks Dylan. “I was happy then.” He doesn’t remember feeling lonely and lost – those feelings would manifest themselves at a later date. The elementary school years were safe memories. In fact, if it were possible to go back in time, those years would be the place to be. Dylan’s teenage years were just like most boys in America. Long summer’s punctuated by school terms. Playing with the neighborhood kids and just goofing off. It saddens Dylan that those neighborhood friendships vanished with time. He had good friends. Maybe someday before he dies, he thinks, I will seek out Mark, Brian and Darin. Perhaps they have failed in their life, too. Perhaps we can all play wiffle ball one last time before we die. Dylan takes a sip of coffee. It is 6:00 PM and he should be getting home. Halloween came and went so fast, just as it always does these days. He didn’t even watch the Peanuts Halloween Special this year. “I used to love that show,” he thinks. TV was so simple in the 1970s. Dylan remembers the excitement of coming home from school, thrilled at the thought of watching the CBS Peanuts Special after dinner. Today’s children have no idea how special it was to have to wait 365 days every year to watch those holiday shows on CBS. The Peanuts, Rudolph, Frosty, all of them. The world is giving us more, but really giving us less, thinks Dylan. Thanksgiving will surely fly through with little meaning and Christmas, thinks Dylan, Christmas 2003 may be his last. He has murdered 37 people and he is preparing to join them in Hell.
THE PATTERN OF REBIRTH Dylan tried death once, in 1998. He remembers through murky clouds of faded time asking his first wife, Stevie, no, telling her, it was time to go to the hospital. Years of self-inflicted mental abuse had finally caught up with Dylan. He dealt with the college acne, the feelings of despair and loneliness at Indiana University of Pennsylvania and the early stages of anxiety, fear and depression. It was Dylan’s first semester at college in 1984-1985 when he first felt the need to withdraw and the desire to die. He just didn’t fit in. For some reason, he was unable to make any friends. No one sat next to him in class. No one invited him to any party. He called his Dad up early in the third semester and said he was quitting. Dylan recalls, “I just couldn’t cope with life anymore, so I came home.” That prodigal return seemed to work well as he completed his studies and earned a Bachelors Degree in political science at Duquesne University. He even graduated Magna Cum Laude. He remembers feeling like he was ready to conquer the world. Sadly, there were no villains to conquer or worlds to save in 1988. The world of superheroes was a myth, after all. Enter 1989 and Dylan’s second mental crash. He somehow managed to land a job working for a United States Senator. But looking back, the interview was a terrible mess. The stinging memory Dylan has is sitting in the back seat of the Senator’s car, sweat pouring out of him as he experienced his first full-blown anxiety attack. There would be many more where that one came from. The evil genie was out of the bottle. For some unknown reason, the Senator decided to hire Dylan, sweaty forehead notwithstanding, and the beginning of another meaningless career began. The young man who was ready to conquer the world sheepishly resigned 10 months later, just 1 month after marrying his high school sweetheart, Stevie. Crash Number Two complete. After all, how many times could one call off sick? How many cases of labrynthitis could he contract? The writing was on the wall. Dylan was afraid of people and of not being great. God, it sickens Dylan to think that he dragged his wife deep down into his depths of despair and pain. She deserved better. She is a good woman. Maybe in the next life, thinks Dylan – it’s too late for this one. It was here that Dylan began his ongoing period of reinvention. “I will just quit this job (this life) and start anew”. Various jobs followed, each one bringing its own brand of horrifying failure and fear. Minimal successes were hounded by the terrifying specter of heart palpitations, bloodshot eyes and sweaty foreheads. The chronic fear and anxiety forced Dylan to not fit in well. He always seemed to be on the outside, incapable of bonding with anyone at work. He was a loner and he wanted out. Dylan’s newest job (how many had there been?) was a pharmaceutical sales position. Tentatively, the confidence was coming back. Hired in October 1997, Dylan just needed to complete 2 weeks away at training and he would be home for the Holidays. Perhaps this rebirth would be his last, though Dylan. Unfortunately, fate had a different idea and Dylan Berkowitz would never be the same again.
CHAPTER THREE THE FAKE DEATH In the comic book, the Amazing Spider-Man, Peter Parker was a loner. He was the boy in high school that got sand kicked in his face. But Peter Parker had an “out.” Blessed by the comic book fates, Peter had been bitten by a radioactive spider and assumed the proportionate strength of a spider! Peter Parker was Spider-Man. His failures as a human being were erased by his superhuman abilities. Peter Parker, through Spider-Man, could do great things in this world. WITH GREAT POWER, COMES GREAT RESPONSIBILITY. That was his redemption. Dylan Berkowitz was not so lucky. The comic book fates did not exist in the real world. Dylan Berkowitz was going to die. This was no comic book fantasy. Dylan spent 2 weeks at training, somewhere in New Jersey. The feelings of fear and anxiety gripped him early during his training and after failing at the job, and after missing his flight and forgetting his own baggage and accidentally taking some other poor person’s luggage, Dylan’s plane landed in Pittsburgh. Dylan simply could not cope with the failure his anxiety wrought. He was unable to communicate with the other pharmaceutical sales trainees, all of whom appeared to Dylan to be so confident and able. He could not keep his thoughts straight. The world around his was constantly spinning. He even overheard some in the group saying how pitiful he was and how on earth did he even get hired? Dylan was a loser, both in the eyes of the others and in his own eyes. This, he could not bear. He wanted desperately to be great, but he didn’t know how. 2 weeks after landing in Pittsburgh, on Christmas Day 1997, Dylan was admitted to the psychiatric unit of Forbes Regional Hospital in Monroeville, PA. The big crash, or crash Number Three, was in full swing. Broken and beat beyond repair, Dylan Berkowitz died during his 1 week psychiatric stay. It was a fake death. CHAPTER 4 NO DEATH CERTIFICATE There was no death certificate, however. Dylan’s physical body still existed. He was released into the care of his beloved wife, Stevie. It was his soul that perished that week in the hospital. Dylan’s next period of reinvention would be more drastic this time. He would peel the skin off his face and assume a new identity – a stronger, better Dylan Berkowitz. He was tired of being a failure, tired of being afraid, tired of being alone in his ugly and disfigured world of inner demons and self-doubt. Three months later, April 1998, Dylan returned to work as a pharmaceutical sales representative. The company, it must be assumed, felt sorry for him and gave him another chance. They should have known better. He fooled them just like he had fooled himself time after time during his periods of reinvention. But as the cliché goes, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks” and Dylan had become on old dog in this world. Ready to die, but not quite sure how. Dylan went through the motions for 6 months, pretending to be self-confident and happy. Underneath it all, he knew it wasn’t working. Until, that is, he met a girl at work who seemed to be taken by him; she actually seemed to think he was cool, smart and attractive. For Dylan, that’s all it took. He was enraptured with her and enraptured with the thought of being great. She was beautiful, funny and very sexy. She made Dylan feel strong for the first time in a thousand years. He grabbed that newfound feeling of strength in October 1998 and ran away to Texas with his new muse. In the past, Dylan changed his clothes, his music collection, his jobs. Now it was time, to change everything.
CHAPTER 5 SHARDS OF BROKEN GLASS Dylan closed his eyes and stepped off the ledge. He was leaving one world and entering another. This new world was sure to be better. It had to be. He was running out of lives. The first order of business was to quit his job (routine reinvention) and move to another city. Perhaps a new city and a new wife will make all the difference this time. To celebrate his new life and new identity, Dylan took his new wife, Germany, to New York City. There he heaped luxuries upon his new muse that guaranteed she would see how great he was. The best hotels, the best meals, expensive jewelry and the bright lights of Broadway shows – he spent and spent and spent. Dylan was not going to be hampered by budgets or price tags. No, he was a new man and he was rich. He proposed to Germany on the top floor of the Empire State Building – how romantic! This reinvention was the one. There would be no more skin to peel away. When they returned home from the excitement of Big Apple, Dylan bought Germany a puppy. This was indeed a new man! In his past, ugly lives, Dylan was gripped by anxiety and compulsive behavior that did not permit dirty animals in his secure and safely guarded environment. The dog hair did not bother him! He was saved. Dylan started his new job and in less than 2 months, he laid paralyzed in his bed, afraid (once again) to face to real world, unable to live up to his own hype. That morning, after calling off sick, Dylan purchased a gun and shot his reflection in the bathroom mirror. As the shards of glass lay splattered all over the floor, Dylan threw the gun down and wept. He wanted to die but could not find the courage to turn the gun on himself. The Crashes were coming faster now. Was this Crash Number Four? Was this Crash Number Five? Dylan was losing count. Perhaps it was time to turn his pain on the world. After all, he never asked to be born. It wasn’t his fault he was a failure. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t find happiness in this life. It became painfully clear – for Dylan to live, others must die.
CHAPTER 6 DESCENT INTO MADNESS – A NEW HYDE EMERGES Dylan left Germany in October 1999. Her young love had served as his last refuge for happiness in this world. She was a good wife. She was granted a quick pardon and she never saw her husband again. The countless reinventions were over. The only thing left to abandon was his soul. The battle between good and evil, Dylan believed in 1999, was fought on many different levels, all over the world, dating back to the dawn of time. On a smaller, but more complex scale, the battle between good and evil is carried out in every man’s soul. History had shown that it was easier to embrace darkness than battle, day after day, job after job, relationship after relationship, for the light. The villains of the world were many – Vlad the Impaler, Doctor Doom, Jack the Ripper, the Red Skull, Adolph Hitler and countless others. Dylan Berkowitz decided he would be the blackest villain of all time. His crimes would be so hideous that the world would tremble at the sound of his name and the appearance of his ghastly visage. On All Hallows Eve, 1999, Dylan Berkowitz bludgeoned his own mother to a bloody pulp. Begging for mercy, near death, Dylan Berkowitz’s mother looked on in horror as her devil son shoved a shotgun barrel deep into her vagina and pulled the trigger. He mailed her tattered remains to the Pittsburgh Paper with the following note attached: I never asked to be born into this useless world. 6 billion of us and nobody knows what it is all about. The masses strive for happiness, but still they die. Life is pointless and you are all mindless idiots. I blew a bloody hole into my mother’s vagina because that is where I came from. I shot that bloody, ugly hole straight back to hell and I will take as many of the rest of you as I possibly can before I am done. You make me sick and you must all die. His Jekyll was dead. All that remained was his Hyde. For the next four years, Dylan the Damned, as he came to be called in the press, would rape and torture 37 innocents. The world is such a dark place.
CHAPTER 7 THE WORLD ACCORDING TO DR. FILTH The trials and tribulations of life had caught up to Dylan Berkowitz. By 1999, the good times in his life had become distant memories. He had not enjoyed life for so long, happiness seemed like a myth. Life was a painful damnation that was utterly unbearable. Humanity, to Dylan, was meaningless. People were born and people died. In between, they struggled for food, clothing, love and acceptance. There was no rhyme or reason to life. Why did some people have wealth and fame, while others lived in the gutter? Religion was a lie promulgated by humans to try and mask their ignorance of the universe. There was no heaven in the stars. There was no hell down below. Life was a meaningless cycle of birth and death. There were 6 billion human beings on the planet and their ignorance disgusted Dylan. They were fools. Dylan wished that the earth would simply explode, ridding history of the terrible mistake of humanity. Dogs and pigs gave birth, too. What made us so damn better than any other living creature? Life was a joke. Dylan hated life and whatever power created it. By November 2003, Dylan realized that he alone could not remove the filthy stain of humanity. His brutal murders were simply not enough. For every person he killed, thousands were born in their place. It was a never ending cycle of vomit and bile. His four year experiment of extermination had failed. His tortured Jekyll had perished years ago. His brutal Hyde had failed in his quest. It was time to quit.
CHAPTER 8 LITTLE BOY LOST Looking out over the Pacific Ocean, it seemed odd to Dylan that he had never been caught during his cross country killing spree. He had gutted his prey and mailed the remains to the local newspaper in each of the 37 cities where he committed his atrocities. Dylan the Damned was the target of nearly every law enforcement department in the country. Was he being protected? Did he have a guardian angel of death that shrouded him in a blanket of mystery and fog? Did he really exist? Was it truly necessary to carry out those horrible acts of hatred and anger? Perhaps there is a balance between Good and Evil on this earth that requires destiny to arbitrarily choose it’s saints and sinners. Dylan didn’t have the answers. He just knew that he was tired. It had been a long and painful life. “Damn you, Creator, for putting me through this.” On Christmas Day 2003, at approximately 9:30 in the morning, Dylan Berkowitz stuck the barrel of a shotgun into his mouth and pulled the trigger. The pain had finally stopped. He died never knowing what purpose he had on this earth or why a happy child from a small town in western Pennsylvania found nothing but a sea of loneliness and despair in this world. THE END
Emerson Poe Contact:
berkoben66@adelphia.net |