literary post (run in fear) (will be triggering for some, read at own risk)
This is the start of something, it will be in parts, comments will not be screened but it's not here for editing. It's just here. Read it if you'd like, comment if you'd like. some of you know me well enough to know just how 'real' these words are. please all of you respect that.
A soft female whisper in the dark "Half of this could be truth and half could be lies. I'm not even sure I know myself anymore." His response "You've told me that, I'm prepared but why must we do these sessions in the dark? Perhaps just one small light?" A hiss of a reply "No, no lights or I leave."
I'll start where I can first remember, not my mothers arms or a father's voice but a hand coming down fast and hard, knocking me down in to mesh and then the sound of guitar being played. Although I had no idea at the time, the music was Cream, the hand was my fathers, the face was mine. Flash to three years old and my mom''s wedding to her second husband, she married 3 times, all of them Aries just like her, no teaching some people.
"what?" she stops mid dialog, "No, I don't have any clear memories of my father after that night, until I'm much older, we'll get to that later, don't interrupt again."
I remember the wedding and the double ear infection and everyone thinking I just wanted attention. The photographer got some great shots of mom in her dress kneeling down to face and comfort me crying in my little white patent shoes and 70's dress. I was an only child for years, an only grandchild born on grandpa's birthday. You could say I was spoiled but you'd be wrong. I was kind of an afterthought, my mother was more the spoiled child. Even now this story wants to pull towards her, to be all about her. At some point it will have to go in to her vortex. I'll try to keep from being swallowed.
For a little while we were happy, I think. I remember backyard barbeque's and playing in the creek with Wendy and Stephen. There were drugs and sex everywhere, this was the 70's and I don't think my parents generation really knew how to communicate with each other with out some reality altering substance. Probably explains the high level of them that became alcoholics later. I remember Paul, pinning me down at 3 and trying to force his penis in to me, forcing me to take it in to my mouth and becoming more and more angry when I didn't do it right. I remember him finally giving up in frustration and pinning me again then taking his cock and rubbing it on my vagina until he came. This went on til I was 5, when Wendy finally told someone what he was doing to us. I, to this day, have no memory of Wendy being there even though I know she was, as he was baby sitting us both while our moms worked. I told someone at 5 too, my paternal grandfather, he told me he'd take care of it. He did, by coming in to my room that night and spreading my legs for himself. This continued until I was 13 and old enough to stop him. To push him against a wall and threaten to hurt him, castrate him should he ever touch me like that again.
I remember.
She stops talking and the sound of heels across floor is the only noise in the room.
"I think I've remembered enough for today."
The door clicks opens softly and is barely a whisper as it closes.
A light comes on and he waits.
A soft female whisper in the dark "Half of this could be truth and half could be lies. I'm not even sure I know myself anymore." His response "You've told me that, I'm prepared but why must we do these sessions in the dark? Perhaps just one small light?" A hiss of a reply "No, no lights or I leave."
I'll start where I can first remember, not my mothers arms or a father's voice but a hand coming down fast and hard, knocking me down in to mesh and then the sound of guitar being played. Although I had no idea at the time, the music was Cream, the hand was my fathers, the face was mine. Flash to three years old and my mom''s wedding to her second husband, she married 3 times, all of them Aries just like her, no teaching some people.
"what?" she stops mid dialog, "No, I don't have any clear memories of my father after that night, until I'm much older, we'll get to that later, don't interrupt again."
I remember the wedding and the double ear infection and everyone thinking I just wanted attention. The photographer got some great shots of mom in her dress kneeling down to face and comfort me crying in my little white patent shoes and 70's dress. I was an only child for years, an only grandchild born on grandpa's birthday. You could say I was spoiled but you'd be wrong. I was kind of an afterthought, my mother was more the spoiled child. Even now this story wants to pull towards her, to be all about her. At some point it will have to go in to her vortex. I'll try to keep from being swallowed.
For a little while we were happy, I think. I remember backyard barbeque's and playing in the creek with Wendy and Stephen. There were drugs and sex everywhere, this was the 70's and I don't think my parents generation really knew how to communicate with each other with out some reality altering substance. Probably explains the high level of them that became alcoholics later. I remember Paul, pinning me down at 3 and trying to force his penis in to me, forcing me to take it in to my mouth and becoming more and more angry when I didn't do it right. I remember him finally giving up in frustration and pinning me again then taking his cock and rubbing it on my vagina until he came. This went on til I was 5, when Wendy finally told someone what he was doing to us. I, to this day, have no memory of Wendy being there even though I know she was, as he was baby sitting us both while our moms worked. I told someone at 5 too, my paternal grandfather, he told me he'd take care of it. He did, by coming in to my room that night and spreading my legs for himself. This continued until I was 13 and old enough to stop him. To push him against a wall and threaten to hurt him, castrate him should he ever touch me like that again.
I remember.
She stops talking and the sound of heels across floor is the only noise in the room.
"I think I've remembered enough for today."
The door clicks opens softly and is barely a whisper as it closes.
A light comes on and he waits.