My stuntman days are numbered.

The first time I heard VENOM: black metal

By: William Z. Saunders

I went to a special school in the spring term of eleventh grade.

It was in a hospital. All the kids there were either pregnant,

on drugs,

or in a gang of some form or another.

Some of the kids had to live there, others got to leave at 3 o’clock.

I was one of the latter. Part of me wishes that I could tell you that I was one of the wilder ones, but I wasn’t, so I won’t.

A typical day was as follows.

Each one began with intake. They (the shrinks) observed while we (the kids) interacted with one another for the first hour. The ones that were on meds got meds, then we split into two groups for therapy.

After group we rode in a van to a fast food restaurant, and then to the hospital for school. You had three classes every day. One of mine was a home ec. class that had no instructor with me being the only student.

After that we could shoot pool, play connect four, or basketball. Sometimes we got to use the hospital’s bowling alley. They let us do whatever we wanted for a little while, so long as nobody freaked out.

The rest of the afternoon we spent in different types of therapy and counseling sessions. After that, the ones that had to stay, stayed, and those of us that got to leave got in the van. That van ride could be anywhere from one to three and a half hours long depending on the rotation, the driver, and traffic conditions.

One day, _____, one of the therapists, explained to us that we should all bring some music to listen to in group the following morning. We didn’t have to take part if we didn’t want to, but we all agreed that we would.

I brought my Walkman with me every day. I used to carry at least 3 tapes with me . I hated to be without music and the ability to tune everything out out out.

The next day when we got into group, _____ set the jambox out in the middle of the floor. We went in alphabetical order.

The first girl’s name was _______. Her song was the same as her name. It was: ________ by: UB40

The second kid was a Mexican metal head. He was real quiet. He whispered something to _____, she nodded, patted him on the knee, and left the room. She came back in a few minutes with an A.V. cart with one of those old Caliphone turntables on top. The thing was covered in dust. She plugged it in and he pulled a copy of Venom’s Black Metal from a paper bag and put it on the record player. We made it through three songs before anybody knew it. No one could wipe the smile from his face. We were healed.

Tags: creative nonfiction, poetry, storytelling, survival, venom black metal, wellness, writing