This is a story. A story of a child and a brown paper bag. Is it fact or is it fiction?

This is about a brown grocery and the life within.

There was a child 7 or 8 years old at the time. This boy was born of an average family. He was born in a home which was a half a double home, and a detached old garage, in the rear of the property.

The garage was an old wooden structure which was used to store an old car. It had a second story, which was used to store old wooden crates with straw packing material. It was filthy with layers of dust, gas cans, pipes, lumber and other trash.

The only way to get up there was to climb an old wooden ladder, propped against the wall extending up into a four foot hole, into this space. There was one window up there which faced the rear of his house. The trouble with this window was that is was approximately six foot high, and a crate was needed to stand on to look out of it.

This boy from an earlier age knew he was different. However, he also knew that he was mentally ill, and never could tell anyone. This child was ever so lonely, afraid and frail trying so hard, to fit in so no one would ever know his secret or find it out. Because to do so, would be devastating beyond comprehension in so many ways and manners.

One day this boy, would sneak, into his mother’s bed room when she was busy, with his heart pounding for fear of being caught, opened up her draws and looked inside. In his immense fear, he reached inside and took a pair of his mother’s panties and bra. He then escaped.

This child then went up into the third floor of his home, where cloths and other things were stored, and found a skirt and blouse, which was ever so beautiful to him. The last thing that was needed was a pair of shoes, high heels to be exact, and found a pair.

These shoes did not fit because his feet were so small, however, it did not matter. Because, he knew what he was doing was wrong.
But he still did it because, of an internal force, that he even did not understand.

This young boy in his deviant behavior still had a plan. A plan, which, could be shared with no one! His secret and only his, not to be shared, not even his only brother.

Because to do so and face exposure would surely result in physical, mental pain, and possibly being committed into a mental institution.

He got an old paper grocery bag, and placed all the articles mentioned above into it.

He then needed to take it somewhere, somewhere just as secret. So he waited and waited until a perfect opportunity came along, then snuck it out of the house, climbed that old wooden ladder into the top of the garage, his new world, and hid it.

So far this child’s plan was a success, but, ever so dangerous!!

The next part of this child’s deviate life and plan was even more dangerous than ever before.

He would find time and occasions to tell his mother & father that he was going out side to play or to visit a local play mate.

He would then walk down the sidewalk through the back yard and to the garage. He would look around, to insure no one was watching him, and quickly enter it. He climbed this ladder, with heart pounding, and the most intense fear that any one could ever understand, disrobed!

He opened the brown bag and put on these special garments.

These beautiful and wonderful garments! AND HE BECAME A SHE!

She then, trembling, frightened, and tormented, climbed atop a wooden crate under the window. She watched through the window, the back door of her house, praying that it would not open. Praying that, her father would not emerge, and begin walking towards her.

Some times she stood there crying. Some times she felt panic, abandonment, and the overwhelming feelings of loneliness, sadness and isolation, and extreme fear…..

She would stand there minutes, sometimes if she was lucky an hour, and feel at peace and free, which made it, all worth while in her life.

She would then climb down off this wooden crate, take off her cloths, place them into this brown bag, and then become a he again!

My god did this hurt. Tears were flowing………

Then she and the brown bag were hidden, until the next time that she could live again, just for a moment, a very special moment.

NOW this child is grown! My mother has passed away. My father was ill, and before he died, I helped him sell his house, and MY memories!

But before I did, I climbed that ladder for the very last time!!!!!!!!!!

I searched and looked for my brown bag! It was gone! Gone forever! Where?

I will never know! I WILL NEVER KNOW! If you ever find that grocery bag, it holds the life of a little girl…………………………………..

Jamie Lee


Thank you for your comment - Jamie Lee

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