• Now where did I leave off,...of course, unconsiousness.

    However, this time I would like to switch to another point of view.

    The view of Tom Rouhler, my favorite teacher, coach of the wrestling, football, and baseball teams.

    As he layed in the small cell where we were thrown, Tom was in more of a deep sleep, rather than an unconsious state like the rest of us. And his dream I would be told about at a later time, was like a walk into the past, into his young adult hood. A time when his four sons were 13, 11, 9, and 3. From oldest to youngest their names were Matthew, Aaron, Andy, and Tim. They all shared striking resemblances to each other, and to their father and mother. So as the older kids were growing excited for their upcoming thanksgiving break, as usually, they went out into their yard to play. This 24th of November would result in no fun though.

    "Tim," Matt yelled,"do you think you can catch this ball?"

    In a way only a three year old can, he said,"yep!"

    "ok, here you go," and as they laughed and played catch all of the kids barely noticed the car pulling up their driveway. It did, however, pull up their driveway, and they did watch their parents leave their gardening and farm work to go meet the driver. What Tom saw then he could never forget. His old wrestling and football rival stepped out of the car, at 6' 3", a hulking menace anyway. Tom was only 5' 7", and before he got a chance to formally greet his old rival (figuring he just stopped to say hi), he felt a knife at his throat.

    "Hello Tom" came the growling voice, and even as Tom tried to fight back, he saw his wife threatened in the same manner, and realized there was nothing he could do.

    "What do you want with us?" Tom cried desperately.

    "hahaha,"laughing maniacally he said."I want your youngest son, he won't remember you, and I need a son, you hear me, I NEED ONE, someone has to carry on my family name and reputation."

    "ARE YOU STUPID", he responded," I would never let you have him!"

    "Too bad, Tom, too bad...I guess I'll have to take him."

    "You wouldn't, the police will catch you, I'll kill you if I have too, leave my property!"

    "Do that, and your wife and three oldest die."

    Swinging his head around to look, Tom saw the truth, they all had knifes pressed on their throats, except the youngest. As Tom yelled to Tim, run for your life, his rival ordered a desperate move. The driver of the black car drove it across the lawn, and hit the little boy with the ferocity that may not have killed a full grown man, but could have killed a three year old. And as Tom was released, he knew there was nothing he could do, the limp little body was already shoved in the car, and the criminals fleeing. As his wife came into his arms, the next days passed in a blur. There was a funeral, but he still refused to believe his son was dead.

    And on November 26th, as Tom cried over the little grave, he realised something.

    There was nothing to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

    To be cont. Later! rofl