This is the continued story of Simon’s Journal.
Before you begin this third volume in this series,

I would highly recommend that you read the first and second volumes

as each picks up were the previous left off.

Simon’s Journal - Volume I
Thirteen Days – The First Crusade

ADMONITION:

The following narrative is nearly a complete work of fiction. Some events and characters were pulled from real life but have been changed, enhanced and twisted to comply with my will. Any other similarity to actual individuals living or dead is completely unintentional, but it would be incredible!

WARNING:

The following story contains diaper use, violence, adult language and strong sexual content. If reading a coming of age story about boys wearing diapers and exploring their awakening sexuality doesn’t tickle your pickle, or if pickle tickling is illegal in your area, then I suggest you select something else to read.

Simon's Journal

Volume III

Thirteen Sails
Adventures Abound

Written by Danny

Chapter - 20

The Inner Sanctum

“Ssssst! Ssssst!”

I awoke to that sound coming through the darkness, and my heart began to beat more rapidly. This time I knew what the whispered hisses meant. It was a signal from the others in my room and before long I was to be privileged to one of their most secret, secrets.

Again Micky summoned us through the darkness, “Ssssst! Ssssst! M’on, guys!” Micky's whispered voice was accompanied by the sound of his feet hitting the cold floor. “Ya didn't go an' drop off t’sleep, did ya? Cho's G.O.N.E.,”

I had no idea why he spelled the word ‘gone’ and I didn’t get to find out because he followed it up with, “S’ok, really, c’mon.”

“We’re coming!” Lowell whispered back and then whispered into my ear, “Drop off to sleep? Is he serious?”

“W-what? You w-weren’t sleeping?” I asked.

“No, you mean you were?” He asked back.

“Y-yeah, b-but only for a s-second,” I said but in truth, I had no idea how long I had been asleep.

My heart was racing as Lowell and I tiptoed toward the tiny flashlight light that illuminated the middle of the room. As I moved I became aware of the fact that during the short period of sleep I had wet myself.

“Sure glad you’z didn’t get dead!” Micky said holding the flashlight up to his face so that we could see that he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Everybody ready? Good, some’n get the cover.” Micky said and then shone his flashlight on Lowell and me, “Y’all go on, and I will go last.”

“I'll get it,” Jonathan said at once, quickly dropping down and reaching under the bed.

There followed the same scraping sound I remembered from before, and then Jonathan reached out. “Let me have it.”

Tyler handed him the flashlight and crawled with it under one of the beds. The other boys scrambled after him, and then Micky gave Lowell and me a little push. “Follow 'em but watch out f’r splin’rs.”

I was on my hands and knees with Lowell kneeling beside me when he whispered into my ear, “What’s that mean?”

“I think he meant splinters,” I whispered back.

“Oh,” Lowell replied with an amused titter.

I ducked down at once and crawled under the bed toward the glow of the flashlight shining from a hole in the floor. Peering down the hole, I saw an old fat knotted rope and started down it, with Lowell and then Micky coming down directly after me. The climb hurt but I didn’t let on. About half way down the rope I could hear someone complaining, “Who’s leakin’ up there?” and I knew it was me by the trickle I felt down my left leg.

As soon as Micky's head cleared the top, he reached up and dragged the square, splintered wood cover back over the hole before following me down. The other boys all stood pressed together at the bottom end of the rope and were staring intently at Lowell and me as we turned to face them.

Then to the delight of all of them, Tyler, Jonathan, Peter, Timmy, and Micky-if their wide grins were any evidence of it-I gasped and my eyes flew wide open. For though I did definitely find myself in what was obvious a forgotten ship cabin for someone of imporance, which I will add was not what I had suspected it would be, and further, the scene was much different from what I had imagined it to be. I hardly needed to pretend to be surprised. When I looked to Lowell his mouth was hanging open and his eyes were like two enormous white orbs with irises dilated so wide that they eclipsed the color.

The cabin, at least what I cold see of it, was cheerfully lit not only by the flashlight brought down by Jonathan, but by two others as well, which were set on the floor and shining upward. And what the lights revealed was a cozy scene featuring two pieces of carpet circled by two metal folding chairs and several overturned plastic milk crates. Against a wall stood a cupboard, of sorts, made up of more crates, one piled atop the other to form shelves on which were stacked an assortment of cups and plates. There were even pictures decorating the walls, almost too many to count.

It made no difference to me, and in truth I hardly noticed, that the carpet pieces were little more than rags, so worn, frayed, and moth-eaten that the few bits of matted fibers barely revealed that they might once have been a soft plush pile. And it made no difference either that the two chairs were metal folding chairs with dents in the seat, and paint-chipped legs that needed to be supported by what appeared to be large amounts of duct tape and string. Nor did I care that all the plastic milk crates bore faded labels announcing that they had once been the containers of Farmers Market Dairy Products. I did not care further that not one cup or dish on the makeshift shelves, outside of being badly chipped or cracked, bore the slightest resemblance to any other, or that the pictures on the walls were nothing but crumpled, dirty bits and pieces of paper barely recognizable as pictures.

“Welcome to our secret home,” Micky said, beaming brightly.

“It's real nice, ain't it?” said Peter, and though his chest was so skinny that he rib cage showed beneath the skin it still swelled with pride.

“So, wot ya think?” Timmy asked us eagerly.

Jonathan's pale eyebrows drew together over his washed-out eyes in a worried frown. “Ain't you got nothin' to say?”

“Oh—uh, yeah!” Lowell finally said.

I jumped in with, “I th-think it's, it's...”

“Splended!” Lowell suggested.

“Yeah, splended!” I said, “That's precisely what it is!”

Tyler produced a chip-toothed grin and dug Timmy in the ribs with an elbow. “Hear that, Tim? They think it's splended!”

“We new you’d like it,” said Micky, as all the boys stood there grinning like morbid looking manikins modeling wet, dingy diapers and dirty faces.

Then, suddenly, Peter broke away from the others and ran to the wall behind him. “Look here!” He pointed to the wall, hopping from one foot to the other with pent-up excitement. “This here's one I found. Can you see wot it’s a picture of?”

I could plainly see that it was a diaper add clipped from a magazine. When I looked to Lowell I could see that he was as surprised by this revelation as I was.

Jonathan's pale, sad eyes came to life as he ran up beside Peter. “An' this is one I got. It's of a calendar and under is numbers wot says wot day it is.”

It definably was a calendar however it was from 1983 but that didn’t matter. What was important was that each month seemed to feature a different picture of toddlers wearing Pampers diapers. I knew they were Pampers because in the bottom left corner of each picture was the Pampers logo. Plus several of the pictures had a package of Pampers in the background.

A moment later Tyler, Timmy, and Micky were all just as eagerly pointing out to Lowell and I the pictures each had found, some from news papers, some pages torn from magazines, and some parts of torn from diaper packages.

Lowell was examining each one carefully. “Where did you ever find them all?” he asked.

“Mostly from trash cans,” Micky replied. “Some we found on the streets!”

“I found the calendar blowin' down the street. I saved it just 'fore it were 'bout to go down the sewer,” said Peter proudly. “B-but how d-did you ever get th-them in here?” I asked and surprisingly the dreadful word “pocket” still seemed to be freshly etched in my memory.

“Aw, pictures is easy, ain't they, Micky?” Rufiis said.

“Nothin' much to it, if y’r brains ain't gone an' run out y’r ears,” replied Micky sticking a finger into his ear and twisting it about. “Find 'em goin' to and from where ever you are havin’ to go work wotever day an' just stick 'em inside y’r trousers. But I knows wot y’r thinkin', and it's 'bout Mr. Toad-face an' them pockets.”

He was right, that is exactly what I was thinking about.

“Well, even if’n we got caught with pictures, wouldn't make no difference; they ain't worth nothin'. But that,” Kevin bit his lip instead of allowing himself to cuss, “that coin! I should o' swallered it!”

Several heads indicated their agreement.

“Swallered it?” Lowell said holding his throat as though the very thought of it was choking him.

“Yeah, would a come out sooner or later.” Timmy replied and I felt my butt cheeks clench together at the idea of having to squeeze a coin out my tiny poop hole. And then I wondered how he’d know when it came out. I could only think of one way and that wasn’t a pleasant thought.

“What about the rest?” Lowell asked, “How did you manage all these cool things? I mean the chairs and plastic boxes and dishes and stuff?”

“These weren't hard t’all,” Peter said picking up a milk crates and putting it on his head like some kind of plastic cube shaped helmet. “Ain't that right, Micky?” he said.

Micky looked annoyed with Peter but nodded and said, “That short drunken fool of a cook, Fyre, he uses them to bring stuff back from the store.”

“Not always just the store neither,” Timmy added, “Most o' the times he picks up stuff from wherever he sees somet’n he figures would be half way eat-able for a dog.”

One of the other boys chimed in, “An' he thinks if a dog was will’n to scaff it down, then boys oughter be will’n too.”

Micky spat on the floor, “Ain't that the stinkin’ truth,” and then scrunching up his nose he added, “Anyways, where he keeps them boxes is in the ol’ coal room.”

Micky pointed up as he said, “He gots’m piled in there so high he don't know how many he gots no-how.”

Tyler then staggered around pretend to be drunk as he said, “Most nights he’s so drunk and snorin' up a storm that nothin’ could wake ‘im!”

Jonathan jumped in with, “We just sneak in and barries some. He don't ‘member 'nough’n in the mornin'.”

“Sept to drink some more!” one of the other boys said and they all laughed.

Then Micky said, “A milk crate missin' here and there... he don't know no difference!”

“Now tell ‘em 'bout the chairs and rugs,” Tyler said grinning knowingly.

“You’s the one wot found 'em,” said Micky. “So ya tell ‘em.”

“Aw, weren't much,” said Tyler timidly, studying his fingernails. “I just found 'em all stacked up back o' the washin’ room off the kitchen when I were supposed to be washin’ these.” He said hiking up the front of his diaper and thrusting his hips forward as though he were doing some kind of nerd dance.

Timmy then added, “An' you was smart to nab ‘em too.”

“Aw, weren't nothin',” said Tyler, returning to the study of his fingernails.

“Were too,” said Timmy putting Tyler into a loose headlock and giving him several firm noogies.

Peter then added, “An' all we needed for them chairs was somet’n to hold 'em together, an' we found that in...”

“Maybe we better wait an' tell ‘em 'bout that later, don’t ya think?” Micky broke in quickly.

I saw Lowell yawn, though he tried to hide it and his sore wrist must have been bothering him ‘cause he was cradling it next to his chest again. I was feeling pretty tired myself but there were a few things I needed to know about.

“That night that Harpo died...” I began.

“You mean when you killed that...” Peter started to say.

“Hush up and let ‘em talk for crying out loud!” Micky said swatting and missing the Peter.

I then asked about what had happened after those three boys, that girl and I had brought her little brother Quade out from that horrid house and away from their drunken, abusive father. “I remember something was happening inside here... I mean the Banachelli but when we came out of that house with Quade that witch Rubella Wriggle caught me again.”

“Bunch of us nearly ‘scaped. Some still did but they were found and brought back. There were tons of really big men here for a few days and I think they still might be in other parts of the Banachelli where we ain’t ever allowed to go. Boy them Wriggles were so mad at you,” he pointed at Lowell and then me, “when you escaped.”

“What about Poppy?” I asked, “Is he still here?”

“I seen ‘im once the other day.” Timmy said, “He weren’t ‘round that first day and everyone thought he was dead or somethin’ but then I seen him and he looked way bad wit’ his arm wrapped up like a mummy!”

Micky then said, “And then these other really strong looking men started showing up all the time bringing big boxes and stuff like that in but then they would leave again.”

“What were they bringing?” Lowell asked.

“Don’t no one know.” Micky said with an exaggerated shrug, “They come only at night when it’s dark.”

“And them Wriggles,” Jonathan began saying with a discussed expression, “Tyler,” he gave Tyler a jovial nudge, “heard them saying that someone named Maddam-M is come’n!”

Lightning bolts began fireing inside my head causing mini-synaptic explosions as bits and pieces begin to come together. I felt that with mild absurdity that I knew who the Wriggles were talking about.

“M-M-Madd-dam-M?” I nearly shouted as my blood began to boil.

“Sssshhhhh!” everyone hushed me. Then Micky reached out and put his hand over my mouth as he groaned, “Ya wan’em ta hear ya?”

I swatted his hand away and with poison in my words I spat out the words, “I-I-I th-think I-I kn-n-now who sh-she is!”

Chapter 21

** As always, your thoughts matter to me very, very much, so please send any comments, questions, suggestions, or criticism to me at: [email protected] **