the brown eagle

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
this story is a recount of my time spent with the great brown eagle. several years have past since his departure. it has became increasingly clear that what i have witnessed was abnormal and must be documented. this is my only writing and first attempt at detailing the events which took place in summer 2012.

Submitted: September 19, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 19, 2016



 Q Chapter 1 – A phone call


“Hello, this is Kim Benson.” “--Yes, hi Kim. This is Allen Bowden from the Holverson house. I was calling about---”

“Oh Hello Allen, how are you doing!?” she asked in a comforting tone.

“I am good.” He quickly realized that was a lie, and amended his answer. “I am okay” he quickly replied.

“I am actually doing alright he tried to reassure both himself and Mrs Benson.

“id dare anyding I kin help you wit?” she said in a thick Korean accent.

“The reason I was calling was to report an incident, well actually two incidents really...” It was obvious the man did not want to trouble her, but was legally required to report.

“--Over the weekend ---we had police involvement regarding a client/staff physical aggression.

“Oh mah gah! I sooo sorry! Are you and your staff okay?”

“Yes, yes we are okay.” The man minimized the event as he often tried to do. He was modest in nature and didn’t want to cause upset. Mr. Bowden gathered the courage to tell Mrs. Benson about the other event. He eased into what he was trying to say in an attempt to stall an extra moment or two. It was no use, as his discomfort only increased.

“As you know Martin has in his behavior support plan a protocol regarding prolonged erections.”

Mrs Benson squinted slightly when she was trying to comprehend unfamiliar words.

“On Saturday evening I was called in to respond...” Allen wanted the report to be over. He wanted to forward the incident reports, notify his manager, and conclude the process.

“One of our newer support staff was working with him and it is believed he may not have been familiar with the bottle fetish it outlines in the support manual.

On the other end of the line Mrs. Benson squinted.

“Martin has been intimidating towards one of our staff members and consequently has been able to obtain soft drinks outside of his typical Friday routine.

Mr. Bowden felt a cold bead of sweat run down his forehead.

“When staff went to ask Martin to lower the volume of his radio, they incidentally walked in on him having relations with the soda container...” Mr. Bowden took a second to breathe for the first time since the conversation had begun. Allen Bowden did not want to explain again what had transpired that evening.

“Can I call you back? I get phone call on other line.”

“Ya, okay, that's fine” agreed Allen. He exhaled.

“--Shit.” He clenched the phone hard before setting it down carefully on the receiver.
















Chapter 2 – A groaning sound


“Batman! Get out of there!” The little dog was sniffing thru one of the empty fast food bags. Devin closed her eyes hard. When she opened them she hoped the hangover would be gone and she would be anywhere else. She tried to push from her memory the fight she had with her domestic partner the night before. It might really be over this time. She got out and slogged from her car, around the picket fence, and into the facility. Down the hallway she went. She sat down hard at her desk. The computer chair hissed as the air escaped under the pressure. The chair rattled and made a creaking noise as she shifted her weight slightly. She tried not to think about anything. She plugged in her phone. The screen was shattered and at 7% charge. The woman made a groaning sound.








































Chapter 3 – Daybreak


“How did you sleep'?” said a cheerful voice. A time went by almost as if the question was lost in a thick fog.

– “ good” a quiet voice replied in what seemed like minutes later. After 11 hrs of sleep the man had woken. He slept several hours more than a common man, yet he consistently reported poor sleep. The cheerful man resented him for it. He himself wished he could sleep one night like Martin slept every night.

It was the middle of July but the man was covered in bedding suitable for a cold winter.

“I had a bad dream--”

The cheerful man knew he was being baited for a response. He was annoyed but would not let it show.

“Oh? I am sorry” he said apologetically.

“I had a bad dream” Martin repeated.

The kind man knew better than to ask.


A time elapsed before Martin gathered the energy to escape the seemingly endless layers of blankets that pinned him to his bed. Some time later, Martin was standing at the edge of the bed scratching himself.


Physically, he had a sickly quality. His hind legs were well developed from the long walks his caregivers would take him on. It was something he would do in the afternoons to cool down from routine bouts of anger. In contrast to his legs, the rest of his body was shockingly disproportionate. He had lousy posture and his back was covered in scars from years of deep pimples.


The kind man observed Martin had pissed the bed again.


Martin stood there and continued to scratch himself while making direct eye contact.

“I sweated a lot--- I sweated a lot” he repeated waiting for a response.

“...You can take care of that if you want?”

It was more of a statement than a question.

“You can take care of that if you want.” He enunciated it like it was a question but really, he was telling the caregiver to deal with his urine soaked bedding.


The kind man resented Martin more than anyone. You wouldn’t have known it though as the kind man always seemed to be smiling somehow.


He collected the soiled sheets and gracefully disappeared. Martin stood in his room, admiring leather Dale Earnhart jacket which hung in his closet.

Martin took his place at the dining room table. He always sat at the end of the table, Maybe it was something he had saw his father do, or something he picked up from all the movies he watched.

The kind man brought him his customary waffles and sausage. Martin's shaky hand held a fork speared with a piece of toaster waffle. He brought the waffle in. It didn't look like the food was going to make it from the plate to his mouth, but it always did somehow. Watching Martin eat was like watching ____________. As he ingested the syrup, he began to waken further.

“I don’t feel so good.”

The kind man thought of happier times.

“I am sorry to hear that” he offered in condolence.

“I need to go to the hospital – can you do that for me?” Martin asked in a tear-jerking sort of way.

The kind man sighed. “Lets get dressed” he tried to muster the little enthusiasm he had left.

Martin was funneled down the hallway and into his room.

After a short time the kind man went to check on Martin. He was found wearing military fatigues.

“I would like to go to the hospital.”

“Your ride will be here soon, we need to get going.”

Martin began to raise his hands in protest.

I can't do that---” he said matter of factually. His eyes widened suddenly and his body tensed.

“I cant ride the bus – I need to go to the hospital...” Unfortunately for Martin he did not have the energy to put up much of a fight after breakfast. He conformed to his schedule, and got ready to leave.

He carefully boarded the bus. He scowled at the driver, but acknowledged him by raising his hand in a rigid greeting gesture. He took a seat toward the front. He watched the kind man from the window until the bus left on its way to Paper Safe.








































Chapter 4 – The loading dock


The phone rang interrupting this Devin from a hellacious shit she was taking.

“Fuck,” she thought. She went for the aerosol but it was out time.

“Fuckin' Jackie” she muttered under her breath. She picked up the phone and dialed from caller ID. It read, “Paper Safe.”

“Hello this is Dwayne from Paper Safe.”

Hello, I saw you called?”

“Oh hi Devin, I was calling to let you know that Martin will...”

Devin finished the sentence.

“... will be taking the bus today.”

“If you could come pick martin up at 2:30 pm he will be ready.”

“Ya, I’ll be there in a little bit” she said in a flat tone.

“Little bastard” she thought to herself.

Devin pulled up to Paper Safe in the Holverson company car. She crouched sightly, looking thru the windshield and up at the loading dock. Several workers stood around like children excited to go home from school. She could see Martin. He was holding his treasured motocross helmet and shaking slightly. He didn’t not want to take the bus today or any other day.

Devin walked up the steps to get him. The large man named Dwyane whom she had spoken to on the phone was sitting in a small chair playing a Beatles song. He and Devin made eye contact. He managed a faint smile but kept playing. Over the sound of the guitar he spoke to Devin.

“Martin had a great day – didn't we Marty?” Dwyane was speaking to Martin, but it was more of a report that was intended for Devin.

Dwyane looked over to see an agitated man staring into space.

“I am ready to go home” Martin said.

Devin and Dwayne spoke to each other as Martin stood waiting. It was the type of conversation a grade-school teacher has with the parent. “He had a good day today, no behaviors – hardly.”

Dwayne said this everyday. He knew he wasn't fooling anyone. Dwayne was a kind and patient man, but even the most patient men have their limits. He had 3 months left until his 20 year company pension became active. Today his Hawaiian patterned shirt had a ripped pocket. Other days there were visible scratches on his forearms, but everyday his shins looked like a graveyard snow-cones. They were blue, red, purple and yellow.

“You have a nice day there, I think Marty might want to go home --- isn't that right?” she said it in a voice she hoped would cheer Martin up. Truth was that Martin was not in the mood for any nonsense. He got down the handicap ramp but not without touching the hand rail.

“Ouch!” A moment elapsed as he processed what had just occurred. Martin's head slowly creaked around but his whole body remained frozen as if it were cemented in place. He looked like the cross between a 100 year old man, an owl and a handicapped dinosaur. He stared blankly at Devin.

“The thing burned me!”

“Yep.” Devin said in response.

Devin ushered him around the side of the car, stowed his backpack in the trunk, then held the door while he stood by the open passenger door. Martin continued to express with frustration that he burned his hand on the guard rail.

Devin could feel the cotton shirt sticking to her back.

“Hurry the fuck up” she thought to herself. After a seeming eternity, Martin painstakingly got in, keeping his helmet close.

She turned the key and was instantly met with cold AC and afternoon radio ads. She had only been driving the newest company vehicle a few days now but it already looked like the inside of a dog kennel. The first few minutes were silent. It was finally comfortable.

“You can turn the air off if you like” Martin stated.

Devin hoped he would become distracted so she could leave it on. Unfortunately Martin was not a man who entertained compromise.

“You can turn off the air if you like.” He repeated it another time before he got the desired response from his caregiver. “Soo... you mind stopping by the store?” Martin asked as charismatically as he could. Martin's request was actually a statement disguised as a question.

Devin did not respond.

“--- you can stop at the store if you like?” Neither spoke for a couple of miles.

Devin's jaw tightened where as Martin's nostrils flared and his eyes began to dilate. The country music was loud and muffled Martins request.

“I would like an energy drink. Can you do that for me?”

She pretended not to hear him.

“So...I would like an energy drink.”

She ignored the request. For a short time it would slow the inevitable. Devin was from the city and her folk did not listen to Country music. But it didn’t matter right now, she felt the deep gloominess of the song.

“Fuck it” she thought - “No you cannot have an energy drink”

-- before she could finish speaking, Marty raised his voice.

“DONT YOU LIE TO ME!!! DONT YOU DARE!” Something was happening. Marty tensed and his eyes became rabid. He looked like he had sudenly been charged with electricity.

“Relax please” Devin said as calmly as she could muster.

Telling Martin to relax did not help.


Her voice was shaking and Martin could detect fear. He suddenly struck her in in the side of the head violently. The side of his hand struck her in the head causing her ear to ring.

Martin tensed up further. His weight shifted as he got ready for another slashing strike. This time Devin was ready. She got the car back into the lane, gripping the wheel tight with her left hand.























Chapter 5– A summer job


“You want me to have you arrested? Is that what you want!?” Josiah woke up suddenly. His face was ghostly white, which was slightly whiter then usual.

Josiah slowly got ready for work.

He stared into his cereal, but it stared back at him and he looked away. He had been losing his appetite more and more often lately. Years of martial arts, missionary trips, and prestigious science camps had not prepared him for what he thought was an easy summer job.

The 30 minute drive to work went faster then usual.

Remember Josiah, “For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self discipline” his mother recited to him.

It was hard for Mrs. Masterson to see her son like this.

Josiah got out of the sedan and faced the facility.

“YOU WANT ME TO KICK YOUR ASS!? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT.” He flashed back again. The flashbacks were becoming more and more frequent. Josiah made his way around the plastic white picket fence and into the facility. He went down the hallway, slowing briefly to notice a frame picture staring at him. It reminded him of a friend's grandmother.

“Hi there Josiah, how are you doing?” a throaty woman's voice asked.

He sighed heavily. “I haven’t been sleeping so well.”

He sat down quietly at the staff office computer. After some clicking and strokes of the keyboard he sighed again several times. In the adjacent room Devin and Allen looked at one another with big eyes. “Such a little bitch I swear, I am more of a man Devin whispered to Allen. He chuckled once half hardheartedly, concerned Josiah may have heard them.

“Are you doing okay? Devin reluctantly obliged the man's whimpering noises.

Josiah began to recount his most recent nightmare in detail.

She resumed a game on her phone which was almost charged now. When she noticed the voice had stopped, she replied after a short delay.

“So your going to be okay?” Its 4:30 pm and I have got some shit --- stuff, I got to do. Hang in there, your doing a great job.”

She looked at the other manager and made a sarcastic face. She almost laughed at her joke but kept it together.

“Today is a soda day---I'll see you tomorrow.”

“No Wednesday I believe” Josiah reminded her. She had a tendency to forget things where as Josiah did not.

She was feeling good now. It had been a terrible day, finalizing a terrible week. She could finally go home and put down the dozen or so drinks it took to forget.

“Fuck you all” she said jokingly as she shut down her computer and left.

Allen surveyed Josiah's face. He had never seen one of his employee's look so afraid. He decided he should give Josiah some words of encouragement before leaving for the day.

Allen told him the tale of the good wolf and the bad wolf. When it was concluded, Josiah nodded. “Yes sir, he replied.”


Josiah was now on shift. He was the only one at the facility. He fought back the tears. He was not supposed to be here. He was supposed to be at BYU. He had worked hard his entire life. He was a recipient of the prestigious National Merit scholarship. He tried to remember what his boss had told him moments earlier. He walked down the hall and into the living room. The gravity of his situation began to set in; He was alone with Martin.

The Holverson House was meant to look like a home. The truth was in most ways it did. Had it not been for locking cupboards and a few subtle differences, it resembled grandma's house. On the North wall of the living room was an unusually large plate window. Josiah receipted the verse from earlier, “For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self discipline.”

He quietly walked to the window and peaked out of the blinds. His heart skipped. He winced and looked away instantly. Josiah desperately wanted to leave. If he called a taxi now, he could get home before his younger sister got home from school. He could tell his family that work was canceled, or that there had been and error in scheduling. He felt a sense of excitement and temporary relief. Until his conscience weighed in. He knew he could not tell his parents a lie. He had tried one time at 13 years of age. He had been caught and punished immediately. The fear of his parents finding out he was being deceitful would be too much to bear. His mind raced. He looked again. Josiah's face was white hot and his sweat ice cold. His tormentor sat in the front passenger seat, patiently waiting.

From the window Martin appeared peaceful. He hadn’t moved from where Devin had left him in the driveway. Martin peered thru the passenger window. The new car scent was even stronger in the late afternoon. Marty tried to swallow, but there was no saliva. The regenerating crusts that grew at the corners of his mouth seemed to have baked on from the heat today. He looked into the sun. His light blue eyes flashed. He started to open his mouth as if to try to swallow. A faint noise came from the foamy saliva that seemed to glue his tongue to the roof of his mouth. A memory from years past returned in perfect clarity. He was with his older brother Dodge at the river. His brothers friends would let him finish their cigarettes and the tail end of their beers. He also remembered his brother's girlfriend screaming and trying to push him away from her. She was wrong. Marty now realized what was needed.





























Chapter 6 – a fine evening


Allen got home unusually early this Monday. He walked in the front door and was greeted by an English setter. It was was a boney dog with old eyes. “Good afternoon Yana!” The dog was happy to see her owner. He greeted the animal with the same level of formality and respect as he would a colleague. Yana was a fine bird hunting dog. She had put in many years of hard work but was now beginning to show her age. She was only a few weeks off a surgery to fix a torn hind leg muscle that she had suffered. The dog was becoming quite fragile in a physical sense, but she remained strong in her spirit.

“How was your day?” Allen's longtime girlfriend greeted him in the living room.

“It was a pretty good day” said Allen lightly.

He was just happy to be home. Allen's career at the Holverson house had been pleasant the last 4 years. He didn't have a lot of stress. He did his job, things went smoothly and nobody bothered him. The main office liked him, his employees liked him, and

Things were changing.....(to be continued)

© Copyright 2018 Stuart Dooley. All rights reserved.

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