Whisper Down the Lane by Clay Chapman (inspiring books for teens txt) 📕

Woodhouse not guilty. During that time, the trial quickly became a national sensation. Celia Jenkins, Woodhouse’s defense attorney, blamed the length of the trial on a “quack cadre” of “traumatists,” referring to psychotherapists who interrogated the child witnesses. Their methods, including hypnosis, were considered by psychological experts who testified for the defense to be coercive, leading to false memories. These child witnesses recounted midnight masses, grave robbings, orgies, and, in some truly bizarre accounts, fornication with Satan himself.

“I don’t blame my kids,” Woodhouse said following the court’s decision. “I believe they were just scared. They got caught up in something they couldn’t understand. It wasn’t their fault.”

When asked what was next for him, Woodhouse said, “now I can try to pick up the pieces of my own life. I want to get back to my family.”

Woodhouse was thirty-six. He is survived by his estranged wife and daughter.

DAMNED IF YOU DO

  SEAN: 1983

The teachers came at night. They took the children from their beds and carried them out windows and back doors while their parents slept. The children were loaded onto a yellow school bus. When they woke, they were told they were going on a midnight field trip.

An adventure, the witness stated.

The children were brought to the cemetery of an abandoned church. They were escorted off the bus and told to hold hands. Make sure you stick with your partner, the witness recalled the defendant saying. The defendant wore a black robe, which made it hard to see his face, but the children recognized his voice.

The children were led to an open grave. A small coffin had been unearthed and pried apart. The students were shown the body of a little boy in a suit. His skin was gray. His face was wrinkled like a raisin. A California Raisin, the witness noted.

Five more teachers joined them and formed a ring around the coffin, including their headmaster. There were candles placed on the headstones, giving off just enough light for the witness to see each teacher’s face as they pulled back their hoods.

Circle time, the defendant said. Everyone hold hands.

The gray boy was stiff. Like a G.I. Joe action figure. The teachers picked him up from his coffin and lifted him over their heads. They began to chant. The defendant had taught this chant to the children during school hours and instructed them to sing the words. The witness states that he and the other children did not understand these words. Nonsense words. Another language.

The teachers put the gray boy down and he began to move, like Pinocchio when Geppetto pulls his strings. He’s dancing. The gray boy is dancing! the children said. The louder they sang, the faster he danced. The children were told to sing louder, watch him dance, watch him dance!

The gray boy danced up to each student and asked each of them, one by one, to open their mouths. He pinched at his own body. Pinched it hard enough to pull off a little bit of flesh. He held each sliver of skin up to the students and said, Take and eat, for this is my body.

These students did as they were told. They opened their mouths and let the gray boy place his flesh on their tongues.

The teachers all sang. Their voices lifted higher, higher, cheering the gray boy on. Their black robes opened to reveal their naked bodies. Their boobies and wee-wees, as the witness recalled. The accused Mr. Grantier. The accused Miss Macneill. The accused Mr. Sung. The accused Mrs. Haynes. The accused Mr. Jenkins. All of them naked.

The gray boy went down the row, pinching himself. Take. Eat. He was all bones before long. His arms, his chest. You could see through his ribs, all the way to his heart.

Now the teachers were touching each other. Touching their boobies. Their wee-wees. They put their lips all over each other’s bodies, making kissy sounds, moaning sounds, as the kids continued to sing the song they had been taught to sing.

The gray boy finally reached the witness. He was the last to be fed. All the other boys and girls had eaten their fill. Now there was no flesh left. There was nothing left of his face even.

It looked like the gray boy was crying. Why are you crying? the witness asked.

I am crying because I have nothing…nothing left for you.

This made the witness very sad. He didn’t want to be left out, so he began to cry, too.

Wait, the gray boy said. For you, my brightest disciple, I have something special. For you, my star, I give all I have left…The gray boy slipped his fingers through his ribs and tore out a piece of his heart and offered it to the witness. Take and eat, for this is my body, he said. The witness remarked that it tasted like Wonder Bread soaked in the juices of diced Del Monte vegetables with just a pinch of sugar. He never felt happier in all his life. Now he belonged.

—

Just about everybody twisted in their seats as they listened to the prosecution share Sean’s story. Some sighed. There was even sporadic laughter. Somebody sitting in the gallery muttered just under their breath, Can you believe this shit?

But it was quickly noted by the prosecution that this testimony was repeated by another witness. Key details of Jenny Cardiff’s story overlapped with Sean’s testimony.

Tommy Dennings’s testimony also confirmed certain details. The bus. The cemetery.

Tommy’s house had become the unofficial headquarters of the parents. Just to keep everyone updated, Mrs. Dennings said. She made Tommy go to his room during these meetings, but he perched at the top of the stairs, eavesdropping on the conversation in the living room.

Jenny’s mother always left these meetings in tears. She would sit at the edge of Jenny’s bed and share just enough of the story with her daughter to see if it could possibly be true. Jenny, always an obedient child, never liked to see her