Devil’s Hole, a crumbling shale, cedar-lined precipice at least three miles in diameter rising two hundred feet into the air was named by Pre-Revolutionary War fighters many hundreds of years before the twins found the cliffs and water below to be an escape from their stepmother Katherine.
Local war history told of a French and Seneca Indian ambush on the British where more than 150 men fell to their painful deaths into Devil's Hole. Some gored by trees, others breaking their necks along the craggy cliffs, the doomed men eventually fell into a waterfall dashing down the rocks, through the underbrush to a small brook called the Bloody-Run.
The trail the twin twelve year-old boys sculpted to Devil's Hole was between farm properties, hay fields and forests, winding paved roads and crushed rock lanes; the trail was theirs since Katherine married their father three years ago. The dogs, perhaps inclined to behave more wild then their breeding determined, had led the boys to Devil's Hole the first time Katherine had a tantrum and thrown the boys out of the house and into a wet Spring night.
Through the seasons, even in the dead middle of winter and always after another bout with Katherine's angry tongue, the twins walk the trail in line, dog leading boy followed by boy followed by dog. At first the twins don't speak. Each are plotting methods of escape from Katherine. Then the boys hold hands. The touch of their palms bring safety in their mission; the physical bond keeps them from falling off the trail, down the ravine of rocks, towards trees and likely death.
John the taller and thinner twin giggles and pulls his slow brother David through snow, mud, or sand. If it is winter John steps in the dog’s path, widening the holes in the snow and David follows, half skipping and jumping to keep up. In summer, John drags his brother along the rocks and sand by hand. The urgency in their travel is part of their ritual, to move as fast as one can to rid oneself of the bad will towards their stepmother. Repeating the phrase “I hate her” quietly in their minds, sometimes one boy mumbles, “I want to kill her”.
Taking turns in defending their actions, the words “You can’t do that” are uttered in challenge.
Then the game of designing the worst possible death for their stepmother brings the twins to speak and then shout.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Lili Koi Writes and Draws Erotica to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.