Once Beaten, Twice Shy

Recollection 4 of 10

Through Arlo's Eyes
Sep 5, 2018 · 8 min read

Summer was in full swing and the sun blazed in the sky. Arlo and his sister soaked it up, happy to be rolling around in the grass instead of being cooped up in the house trying to stay quiet so not to wake their mum. What made it even more fascinating was the ball of fluff staring at them through the fence, watching their antics and wagging its tail in rapid succession.

It’s owner had left it out in the back garden all weekend, chained up to its kennel. The poor thing was bored out of it wits and no doubt wanted to join the children in splashing around the makeshift tarpaulin paddling pool they had constructed. Lacey ventured towards the fence and stroked its head in which the dog responded by jumping two paws up onto the top of the fence and licking her face frantically.

“Get away from that fuckin’ dog, now!” boomed a voice from the top of the steps. Lacey stumbled backwards, tripping on her own feet and toppling over. Ragnar muttered away to himself and stepped back into the house. Arlo helped his sister back to her feet and they continued their chasing games whilst the dog resumed watching from afar.

Thirty minutes or so passed before the children became famished and decided to feed themselves. Lacey now Ten and Arlo nine, were able to muster a small feast consisting of some sandwiches and crisps from the cupboards and fridge. A rare treat, they could enjoy their lunch in the sun and decided to sit next to the fence in the proximity of the dog. It’s name tag sparkled in the sun. It read ‘Jake’. They felt sorry for the little guy. His bowls were empty and he must have been baking in the heat with the fur coat he donned. Lacey glanced over her shoulder to make sure Ragnar the troll was inside his cave. She then cupped some water in her hand, passed it through the fence for the dog to lap it up. He seemed grateful and licked every bead from her hand.

Arlo assumed he must be starving if he was that thirsty too. When raiding the fridge, all he could find to fill his sandwich was some ham slices wrapped up and tucked away in the back. He didn’t mind just having a buttered bit of bread and decided to feed the ravenous guy some of the ham.

As Arlo passed the ham through the fence, the dog gently lifted the pink meat from his hands and chomped away on it like it was his first meal all week. Arlo and Lacey giggled as the pooch wagged his tail double-time. They both turned their heads at the sound of squeaky breaks screeching to a halt behind them. Gordy, their elder brother had just returned from his friends on his bike. Upon seeing their little picnic, he queried “What are you guys eating?”.

“Ham sandwiches and crisps. Mum is sleeping and dad is playing his games so we made it ourselves.” Arlo chirped, quite proud of himself.

“The ham at the back of the fridge, in the packet?” Gordy examined.

“Yup.” Lacey chirped in, chomping down on hers.

Gordy’s face dropped. “Thats Ragnar’s. You better hope there’s some left. I took a slice this morning and he backhanded me to the floor for taking it without asking him first.”

Arlo turned his head to the grass. Not again. His eyes started to bubble, he knew what this meant. Should he go and tell Ragnar? Should he go and wake him mum to defend his decision to make his own lunch? Should he just hide an hope it all blows over or just hope that Ragnar doesn’t even notice?

The dog on the other side of the fence whimpered a little, eyeing the rest of the ham in Arlo’s sandwich. There was no point in not giving the malnourished animal the meat. No point in both of them suffering. As he handed the last of the ham through the fence, Ragnar stepped out once more.

Ringing shot through the air like a crack of thunder. All three children turned to look in unison at the colossus on the upper step, holding the infamous paddle in his hand. Ragnar had slapped the thick weathered paddle off the railings, releasing an ear-splitting metallic jangle into the neighborhood. The dog retreated into his sanctum as if knowing what was to become of the boy.

“You fed that fuckin’ mutt my ham? You thieving little shit, get up here now, I’m going to leather the skin on your arse!”

No, Arlo thought. To hell with that. He ran. He had enough, he wanted out. He shot off towards the front garden. Gordy and Lacey looked on in horror. They knew it was a bad idea, as did Arlo but he didn’t care.

“Gordy, bring him to me, get him!” Ragnar appealed. His gut had expanded over the past few years and was a far cry from what makes a man fit. If he were to give chase it would surely be a short lived hunt and Arlo would safely escape. Gordy was hesitant. He didn’t want to be accountable for his brothers beating but didn’t want to transfer the focus onto himself and incur Ragnar’s wrath himself.

“Do it or I’ll fuck you up too boy.” Ragnar warned. Gordy gave chase immediately. He was a good five years older than Arlo. Beatings for him involved fists and feet and somewhat dimmed the terror of the paddle his siblings feared so much.

Arlo had a head start. Before he realized, he was already carried across the road into the park. Running so fast his feet barely touched the ground. He twisted his neck around and caught the glimpse of his brother turning the corner of their street. This spiked his pulse even further. His legs were carrying him too fast he began missing steps and tumbled forwards into a roll. Without even feeling it, he had cut his head on the path and was back on his feet in a flash.

This gave Gordy a chance to catch up. The gap was down to about 40 meters now and the park was running out of ground to cover. Arlo made a beeline for a side street he knew led towards farms and fields with woodland as cover. If he could just make it there, he knew Gordy would lose his trail and wait for Ragnar to cool off in a few hours. Hopefully by then his mother would have intervened.

He didn’t for a second blame Gordy for leading the chase on him. He was only doing as dictated by Ragnar to avoid his own beating. However, this would be Arlo’s third treatment in as many weeks and couldn't face it again. His mother had began working even more lately and this left Ragnar alone with them. Now they were that bit older they could be ordered around to perform the chores and duties he was meant to fulfill as a ‘house husband’. Hoovering, cleaning, dusting and being a general dogs body to his every whim. When my mother returned home, he would demand praise for the sloppy accomplishments a team of children were able to muster and induce torture when their mother would criticize the level of attention given to each effort.

He felt the grip of his brothers hand clasp around his shoulder and drag him to the floor. Both boys tumbled to the ground like a couple of hay bails falling off a truck. Gasping for breath, Gordy placed his full body weight on Arlo who was kicking and wriggling trying to set himself free of his larger brother.

Arlo finally gave in. Gordy was substantially more powerful, larger and it made no sense to continue struggling. Where was the point. He lay still and sobbed quietly. The view of the cloud sin the sky above swirled into blurry mess with the salty pools gathering in his eyes. His big brother just held him still and didn’t say a word.

They both sat for a moment, embraced and still. Both boys knew what the other had to do and neither of them wanted to. They had watched each other take beatings and blows for many years now and although they shared very little in common outside of this; this brought them closer together when it mattered.

“It’s time.” Gordy suggested, prompting them both to get to their feet and start the walk back home.

Arlo felt a massive weight in his chest and it made the short journey all the more laboring. Gordy put his arm around Arlo’s shoulders and pulled him close in. Most likely to comfort his little brother as they entered the front garden he had not long escaped from but more likely Gordy was scared he would have to chase Arlo down once more.

The front door to the house was open and the backyard was still with no activity. No Lacey running around. No dog sniffing in hopes of a free meal at the fence. Into the hallway they walked and the first thing Arlo felt was the cloud of smoke making its way through the bottom floor of the house . It originated from the living room. The rich tobacco smog bled into his already bleary red eyes and aggravated them further.

Silence throughout, only the ticking of the clock on the fireplace wall made any noise. The only thing hanging on the wall Arlo also noticed. The paddle hook lay empty. In the arm chair Ragnar sat, pipe in mouth, paddle in hand. His mass poured into the leather crevasses of the studded armchair. His fading tattoos on full show and wiry beard chomped down on the thick stalk of his favorite pipe. One last puff of smoke escaped from his lips before he lay it down on the armchair.

As the vapor dispersed silence was broken with the all too familiar demand and catchphrase.

“Pants down.”

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Previously…

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