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“I’m sitting alone and I’m thinking back. I’m thinking of him, like he’s sat across from me, looking straight through me, as if he’s looking into something that doesn’t exist. But it’s me who’s looking. He often comes into my mind when I have a quiet moment, lulls during the day; he catches me when I’m daydreaming, before I fall asleep, in the middle of the night, seizes my imagination for a while, my memories. In a black and white format he appears, then fades as quickly, as unpredictably - let him be known, and he always comes back.

 

“There’s no doubt, and I wouldn’t deny it, though I’m loath to admit just how much, but Degger has had a profound effect on me, the way I see myself, the world. He changed it all. It’s a scary place. I scare myself. We were friends a long time. I never really liked him, but I wanted to be just like Degger - fearless and respected, feared, so I stuck with him. Weird, eh? When the day ended, when he turned to leave, I’d shout after him: ‘Degger, what should I do now? Degger!’ And he went, the rest of us looking at each other, clueless.

 

“I would see him the next day, or the day after that. We would be hanging out - Briggs, Holdsworth, Tom Bagnut, even Andy Compton back then, and he would appear. You’d hear the whistling first, and then Degger - the smirk, licking his lips, he’d turn and walk. You’d half want to run the other way and half not. We’d all look at each other and follow - Briggs, Holdsworth, Bagnut, Compton, and me. He didn’t say much. He’d whistle a little, lick his lips. Later on he’d do this thing where he kicked the heel of his boot off the other boot. Sometimes he’d flick his lighter on and off, take a sip from the flask. We muttered and murmured behind him. He made the way - a ten, eleven year old kid, took us on his adventure. I’m going right back to the start.

 

“See we got mixed up in some s**t back then; always got up to no good with Degger. It was fun but not fun, if that makes sense. He led the way. This was when we were young and didn’t know any better. Well, we kind of knew, but we were looking for a hero, an anti-hero, someone different, special, dangerous maybe, an adventurer: Degger. No one’s parents were happy. They’d heard rumours about how Tim Fletcher’s bull dog was found in two pieces and how Degger was stood leaning on the old red wall across from Tim’s house when Tim came to find it. Tim was the local butcher - ‘Tim’s Cuts’ on Granville Street. He’d called Degger a ‘freak’ about a week previous. I was there. Degger licked his lips, walked. We followed. I didn’t tell mum, dad, but they knew. Word got around. They didn’t say much, looked anxious. Word died with that dog. Fletcher’s still going; keeps himself to himself these days.

 

“Like I say some strange stuff went on, looking back. Loads of different things that shouldn’t have happened did, like when Degger showed us how to pull a frog apart. They lived down by Dodger’s Pond in the meadow. As far as anyone was concerned we were just wandering kids. He’d get us to sharpen sticks with a knife he carried and then chase down frogs. We sometimes played for hours. None of us could catch them. We were just stabbing the ground behind and all around like amateurs. Bagnut was the worst - useless. I never saw Degger miss. If he did he kept it quiet. Degger was always quiet, but those frogs squealed like little pigs when he got them. He just walked up and stabbed them in the hip before they could jump - quick as a flash. We were amazed. It scared us a bit, made me feel sick, wriggling on the stick like that, the weird froggy noise, but we were impressed no less, and practiced. He’d upend the stick and the little thing’s legs would be going like f**k, because that was the thing about Degger, he never killed a frog outright, he caught it in the hip, left it pedaling on the end of the stick, upended it for everyone to see. We’d all gather round and wish we could catch frogs, but knew we never really would, and our hearts would be going. Well, mine was, and if Briggs’s fidgeting was anything to go by, his was frantic too. Tommy Bagnut wouldn’t stay still and kept on bending his knees. We’d gather round and tell Degger how ace his frog spearing skills were. He’d say nothing, just pull a flask from of his shirt pocket and douse the frog. I remember a lad called Oggy, Oggy Mills, saying: ‘What you doing, Degger, you nut?’ and Degger looking at Oggy through the lighter flame as he set the frog on fire. Oggy went stiff and never came back. Sometimes he’d cut the arms and legs off and throw them away, or scoop out the eyes and flick them. One game was ‘Who can kick the frog the furthest?’, where you cut the arms and legs off, throw them down and see who can drop kick the body best. I hated that game.

 

“But of course it wasn’t always frogs, there were other things. Degger inhabited a world of possibilities. He had a relationship with fire, with his lighter, like they were his Genie and lamp. The frog memories just stand out. We were young.”

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Matty Bosox]

This story leaves me extremely creeped out!!! This Degger seems like your typical "Cool Kid" everybody wanted to be when they were kids...Smoking cigarettes, drinking booze, beating and torturing small animals for sport....But then you get older and you think to yourself..."WOW That is to be the next serial killer, rapist, crook, drug dealer, or any other subjects on the creep meter....Usually most of us stop hanging out with people like that because they tend to stick to the same path...And torturing animals, drinking out of a flask, lighting things on fire just aren't cool anymore...to us they are plain creepy...but to people like this Degger its just still cool because everyonme thoguht it was cool when they were kids...So to him "Hey why not keep doing it" I have to say Beau, this is a great and very detailed and factual story into the mind of your typical criminal at a young age...Very well thought out, very neatly done, and very entertainingly creepy...Excellent job...

[Beau-dee-loot]

Guys, if you like Degger check out other Degger tales in the list: 'Degger' and 'Degger Reynolds', if you haven't already.

[Emily Dickinson Jr.]

I really enjoyed this! I have a personal preference for large amounts of dialogue and this certainly satisfied me. And a great ending it was very pretty and poetic. Plus you mentioned one of my favvorite animals ; the frog. So thats a thumbs up in my book. I hope you expand this story because I as well as others I can see think that a sequal would be a splendid idea! we'll be waiting.

[Beau-dee-loot]

He creeps through the memory banks, emerging into consciousness, demanding that the fingertips let him out.

[Brandon Mathis]

I will have to agree with matt i want more !!!!

[Freedom's Child]

WOW, that was mind bending, I hope there will be more to come, this felt like just the beginning to me. Great job of getting a good portrait of the character out quickly while not being blatant about it. Nice work!

[Anubis]

More Degger! I love this character, the deranged, psychotic maniac that he seems to be.
As much as I love Frogs, I love how Degger just tortures things. Evil chap.

[Lisa Ring]

Oh, the cruelty! I enjoy your style of writing...you have a different voice than I. At first, I found it hard to follow along, as it seemed choppy. But as I kept reading, it made me think like you and "hear" your voice. I appreciate your "otherness".

[Beck Louise]

This is terrifying. Brilliantly written it reminds me of something Stephen King would write, also. Great work

[Yheela]

Absolutely frightening.
Makes me wonder what makes a boy like Degger tick ... or does he even live in the same world as the others?
You write scary things well, very believable. It's like you tell a memory from childhood.

[quixotic_rose]

This reminds me of Stephen King style type writing and I love it. You create such a vivid picture with your words and you keep a person hooked. I love your work, keep up your creative ways :)