My Soul is Boundless

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My soul is boundless…utterly naked and torn into…

awakened by velvet like hands soft to the touch…crushed and stained with crimson hues…

the sea of faces surround me…they hide behind shattered glass…

there is no escape…he is raging like the devil’s flame…satin garments displayed in black and blue embarked on my chest…

the man is fighting inside the eye of the storm…ready to break loose and ripen my flesh…

the grasp of his fingers…tightens my core like a pendulum…no more and no less…

My soul is spineless…completely entangled in venom and silky thread…

Timeless and aged like fine wine…I hang onto the promise that I too will be freed from the embodiment of these chains that hold me boundless…

 

 

 

 

 

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Follower Update!

Hey ya’ll,

I appreciate your patience, life has taken a toll on me these last few months and time has gotten away from me with my writing. I will be starting a small poetry section that will go along with my short nonfiction journal entries.

I will be publishing one today so keep a look out for them 🙂 Hope all is well in everyone’s neck of the woods!

Yours truly,

Kristi Marie

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The Scurried Night

Numb to the Touch~ (Entry 12) Winter {1996}
Another day had surpassed and I began to pull my hair back in a vague pony-tail with a slight curl hanging from each side. I had much to look forward to, and I walked just a short range to the bus stop every morning by 8 o-clock sharp! Such an unpredicatable day soon awaited. My step-mom had left a few peices of bread on the counter, a small jar of peanut butter as well as a cylinder full of jam on the counter-top. The morning was quite surreal, with a swift wind blowing in opposite directions. 

Once again, my neighborly peers had stood by the bus stop…curiously withstanding the long duration of waiting. They always seemed to discover ways to evoke my patience as well as be a bunch of persistent pests. On the contrary…at least I wasn’t compelled to give into their unnecessary pranks. Tyler, was a snotty-nosed, spoiled brat who always wanted to be convinced he was right. He had a scrawny appearance about him, jaded eyes and a lock of hair in a dark mohagany brown shade. He never ceased to fool anyone. 

Regardless, I suppressed my little crush-like feelings for him. All the other little girls in the neighborhood were flirts toward him…but I suppose I was just a bit too modest. I was used to being aquainted to strangers…whom of which were far-fetched and utterly permiscuous. The normality of such odds were invincible to say the least. Yet, I somehow tolerated the indignity of my father’s choices and adapted to the life-change.

The bus had soon arrived and we had scooted along to head to school. Tyler had no issues accompanying me and of course…he made animated faces. We sat nearly at the back of the bus often…anxious for the bumpy commotion on the gravel road during our trip to 1st grade. I turned my head and avoided direct contact with anyone. I suppose it was the fact that somehow my engagement with others was completely depleted. Afterall, my father locked me in a dim room, isolated, exposed and completely traumatized. 

Bizarre sounds echoed my room almost everynight. I tried to block out the banging of doors, screaming, faint creaking , knives being thrown into the walls…noises of brawls, laughing, cries of my father, and of course the moaning of his affairs. Sometimes, I felt like a personal “pin up doll” My father was careless in that sense. He would command that I comply to interacting with his “muses” I didn’t think twice half the time…I just obeyed his requests. My body was contorted to suit the needs for his pleasure…I was completely oblivious and not aware what was happening during those moments.

I sat and dazed off and pondered about the dreadful night I had first been violated in a sexual mannor. My father had been entirely intoxicated that night and his mentality was off the grid. His so called “business partner” Corey…was a middle aged man, tall, plump and pig faced. Yet, he also had a muscular appearance that many would percieve as intimidating. His eyes were a dark brown, slight anguler nose and pointed chin. Thick ashy brown hair that slicked back from each side as well as a beer belly that hung out from his faded jeans. 

I remember it like day and night. The hours ticked by as my dad recalled… he would be out doing numerous errands that evening. I wasn’t allowed to answer the door for anyone, and he had promised to be back as soon as time permitted itself. Well, it was apparent to me how blantantly clever he was with coming up with excuses. I even convinced myself the lies he made up were authentically sincere. It turned out he had been wasting away gambling and drinking heavily with Corey. 

Finally, despite being home alone…I had the opportunity to fall into a slumber more soundly than I had in a very long time. But, unfortunately, there was no lock on my door and the walls were quite thin. My stomach churned rapidly with an occassional gargling sound. What could I possibly have to fret about now? My father was nowhere in sight…and perhaps would remain occupied with his festivities. However, low and behold…just when I was about to fall into a trance…my bedroom door flew open unexpectedly. 

My body quivered and shook uncontrollable. At first I assumed my father stood at the entrance waiting to prowl onto me. Afterall, my body was no longer mine…I was trapped inside a fantasized illusion of what could be relevant or precariously make-believe. It was at that moment…corey hovered over me grabbing my blankets with a strong grip and yanking them off of me. I shrugged my shoulders…trying to open my tiresome eyes. I felt too vulnerable to scream out help! He kept repeating several words that night…”I want to sleep with you”…”let me in your bed now”.

His strength out-numbered my own ability to restrain his grasp. He fondled me harshly till I surrendered to him…trying to unbutton my night gown along with attempting to pull down my garments. I cried as he crushed his fat flesh against my ribs…laying literally on top of me. Tears trickled down my face, and I luckily retrieved a lamp on my night stand table. Ever so quickly…I had swung the lamp towards Corey…bashing his shins hard enough in order to escape. I had also kicked at an angle toward his chest to force him off of me. 

Shortly after the perpetrator fell to the ground…my father awoke and heard me scream mildly. I had been so frightened from the incident that I hyperventillated myself. It got to a point that my breathing gradually increased at maximum speed. My heart pulsated and my body froze as if I had no feeling at all. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY DAUGHTER”? My father shouted fiercely. Tears soaked my pillow as I looked away almost ashamed to expose my nipples. 

My father had noticed my pj’s were half way undone. It was one of those rare ordeals…that my dad actually demonstrated he cared about me…at least for a brief minute. “GET THE FUCK OUT”! My father demanded. He escorted Corey out the door and he was banned to enter our premises ever again. Well, in my father’s eyes “ever again” was very short-lived. Turns out, they had drank several hard liquors and tried to absorb some of the alcohol by eating pizza. (Laughs) such brilliant men…NOT!

I felt awefully vulnerable that night…my father cradled me in his arms and suggested that I not attend school for a few days till I was more at ease with the situation. I dreaded everyday walking the hill to the bus stop. Corey just lived a few blocks away and I knew everytime I walked by…he would be staring directly at me from his front window. He haunted me…I even thought at times he was following me. I became paranoid of my surroundings and just knew…one way or another I had to face my demons sooner than later.

 

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Follower Update!

Hey Ya’ll, 

I just moved lasy week so been crazy busy. I am sure everyone is eager for my next blog. I promise there will be a new post up by this weekend! I appreciate you support 😀

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The Altered Ego

Perceivable Inheritants~ (Entry 11) {1996}

Dear Diary, 

My life had plummeted into a dark abiss with no way to escape. Reality had reared it’s ugly face toward me, and the curtains draped over the crooked window we now had claimed was home. The vows were official…nothing could be reversed. My father had gravitated towards more drugs, over-the-counter medication, alcohol, gambling, and sex addictions to ease his subtle conflictions. 

A whole year had flown by and I had turned 6 years old. I had spent countless hours isolated in my bedroom…almost completely detatched from my intuitive thought processing. A child was meant to explore their surroundings by interacting with other peers, adapting to different scenario’s and testing their limits. Well, unfortunately…my mind set had altered into that of an obedient canine. My days were simply dictated under the authority of a “mom-zilla” so to speak.

It was quite obvious my father had no desire for Kris. He plastered numerous pornographic images on his walls in the office suite. His apple computer contained various…yet tasteless content of the women genitalia. He also kept several knives loosely dangling from the cupboard doors. It concerned me to see this new transformation taking place in a once well-adjusted father model. Yet, my father was disturbed over the most simplistic idealisms. 

Despite being young; I held myself back from questioning his thoughts to self-mutilate, murder or vandalize public property. It was almost as if God had intended him to act out in different scenario’s. He even craved off other people’s suffering. I never could understand what made a wolf in sheep’s clothing drastically lower themselves to highly risky measures. Was he possessed by a demonic plague? 

In comparison…nothing felt safe anymore. Kris was fulfilling most of the financial debt through the Family Sport’s Bar… across the street from where we resided. Occasionally, she spent a few weekends away participating in bowling tournaments. On the other hand…my father was busy planning other motives behind her back. Sometimes I was even chosen as part of the equation of role-play vs actual fantasy. 

Nights seemed coincidentally covenient for any type of “house-play”. Especially when Kris was away on her extensive business trips. My father would invite random people over that he claimed were his “comrades”. “You got the goods”? My father would yell out. He then approached me and would tell me to wait for him. The parties would last for hours…obnoxious laughter and breaking of glass…sometimes even debates that would lead to brawls. 

His friend Cory was commonly the most persistent friend that would come over. He and my dad had an arrangement together…it was apparent what their plan had conspired into. I often hid behind the walls of my room…crying myself to sleep…wishing the constant commotion and smuggling of drugs would end. They weren’t curing my father’s ailments; and certainly weren’t pertaining to my needs of wanting a true father figure. 

I will never forget the night he touched me. His plump body crushing my ribcage and attempting to rip open my pajamas. The occurence had unraveled into a series of events. My father had told me Cory was picking him up to tend to “adult matters”…something a small person could not apprehend. I had been home-alone by myself all throughout most of the day. Though it felt sincerely immaculate…I still felt petrified and made certain to lock all the doors. My father had explained a brief period ago…how crucial it was to not answer to strangers. So I conformed to his requests. 

We lived in a cruddy mobile home park…everyone mostly kept to themselves; but gangs lingered everywhere throughout the area. Sometimes, if it was appropriate…I would hang by the creek and saturate my feet in the mud. I had fondly been interested in all the sediments embedded into the rocks. Of couse, bugs were exhilarating to speculate too. Even though it probably would be perceived as redundant…from an adults perspective. At least now the foreseeable future would soon reveal it’s destiny.

Good night Diary.

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The Forgotten & Slaved

Lost Bird~ (Entry #10) {1995}

Dear Diary, 

The night of the wedding rehearsal was short-lived; and my ventures into the unknown universe soon overturned into a dramatic awakening. The lavender infused scent had calmed my nerves for awhile. However, whether it seemed right or wrong…my life was overruled by “the wicked witch” herself. I envisioned a green haven sweeping over me that would nevertheless… transform into a vicious cyclone. The pieces of my heart would shatter and my emotions would be numb from the betrayal I felt deep inside of me. My father had betrayed me just for the fact he considered marrying this “Narcist Bitch”. Regardless, Kris was just a venomous snake in my eyes. 

My fever had subsided after my luke warm bath the night before. My heart pulsated with rage as well as pure disgust for this vermon. I didn’t want to conceal my inner intellect…but as a small person we had no entitlement to reveal how we felt in the world. So, I remained as silent as a lamb…engrossed in my own putridness. The wedding would soon take place at a church across the hill. I would be my father’s “flower girl”. My dress a coral white; would be engraved with beading and covered with fragments of flower-like decor. Why was this happening? This pretentious women was only after “profit”.

 I had discovered my father had encountered her very ubruptly on a casual summer morning. I had been visiting my Aunt’s that same summer, and my dad was obviously bewildered by her slightly odd disposition. She had been supervising a crowd of individuals as a flight attendant. She was neatly groomed with her hair slicked back in a tight bun-like style. Her curled side-bangs were pinned back to expose her exotic facial structure too. He had stumbled upon her smile…but lusted over her seductive image. They had introduced each other with mutual interests and began to go on habitual dates. Well, she was far from attractive…her heart was full of blackness; but I suppose being civil with this vipor was all I could do at this point in time. 

The wedding ceremony had begun. My dress was a bit tight and cut off my circulation. I was walking down the aisle with numerous faces watching me like a “lost puppy”. My stomache tightened now…a basket full of petals around my arm. Did they expect me to comply?…Like I was some damn “raggedy anne puppet”? People were easily convinced over simplicity. (laughs). A couple more steps now and I would be reaching the alter. My father stood with a white tie, black dress pants and a suit. He reminded me of a young “Tom Hanks” character. Dark hazel eyes, light complected, soft onyx locks and a fit figure. Coincidentally, his confidence left a unforgettable impression for most narrow minded “imbosols”. (Laughs).

Finally, the bride was next…her vail covering her face made her appear as if she was a “Chuckies Bride” ( Perhaps a bit of slight Exaggeration). Still, I could not apprehend what my father had saw in her. Surely, this was happening…and I couldn’t prevent it. The ironic part…was shortly after they both exchanged vows. The wedding band my father had ordered at an online pawn shop…had completely failed. The size was too small and the consequences had soon followed. The ring had fused to her finger! Finally Karma had taken it’s toll ( I chucked quietly to myself). It was obvious the ring had to be removed immediately. The circulation from her finger would soon be cut off and she would have to be transported to a hospital facility…on her “wedding day”.

We soon were escorted to a back room of the church and ice was brought to the “bride”. Her finger looked distorted now due to the pressure of constantly pulling to retrieve the over-sized diamond ring. I stood amused of course…it wasn’t everyday you saw a bride struggle with so much in one day. The room remained still till the occurance was resolved. Kris has rested her finger in a ice filled compartment for several minutes…then low and behold…the ring slid off! Her finger was swollen and a bit discolored. Oh and the best part of the day…I spewed all over the carpet due to endless anxiety. My father was not by any means a happy “camper” that day. 

Well, what was done was done…no small person could hold back a good regurgitation of left over cake bites. A supreme chocolate dessert to suppress my hatred towards the women my dad tied knots with. The upheaval of disgust lingered in the air…metaphorically speaking. Meanwhile, the after party soon approached and my father had explained all children were prohibited. Loud music played in the background and crowds danced to “Love Shack”. It was a wild party that night…lots of boos were provided, catering, dj’s. My father seemed most content; so I just let things unfold when time permitted itself. 

Good night Diary. 

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The Bipolar Transformation

Daddy’s Girl~ (Entry 9) {1995}

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Dear Diary,

We were home at last! Kris was waiting outside the parking lot…biting her lip and solaced my father’s shoulders. It didn’t faze her one bit that I existed. Her only motive was to be a “drama queen” and win over my dad’s affection entirely. She looked plain as day…no color on her face and her clothing appeared as if a blind old broad had picked out her apparel. I glanced her direction, and then turned toward the door to enter my bedroom. The room was desolate, cream-white wall paper, and limited space to move around freely. The smell of cigarette smoke was apparent…Kris had been smoking at least 3-4 packs a day. Her teeth were yellow, crooked and full of cavities. I never understood what my dad had found so attractive in this women…besides, she was well equipped with money.

I never doubted the two of them shared chemistry. But, my father was a difficult person to apprehend. His moods altered ever so slightly. More so, now than ever before. It was quite odd behavior and unlike his character to go from extreme highs to lows…happy to sad…or even pure rage just out of the blue. Frankly, the narcotics had an influence, and possibly the over-the-counter pain med’s; he was dependent on since being imprisoned for 6 months. My father, David had issues with committing to women. He had a tendency to push away any attractive women that got too attached. Honestly, the idea of marrying Kris was preposterous. He didn’t love her, so what was his reasoning for wanting to tie the knot so unexpectedly?

The day raced on by and Kris knocked on my bedroom door. As I opened it, she held out a coral white dress with ruffles spread throughout the front. A little flower headband was also included along with an elegant necklace, and earring set. “Me and your father decided to make you the flower girl for our wedding”. “You will dress appropriately and not make a fuss about anything”.  “I will be your new mother soon enough”. She hovered over my shoulder for a brief minute…squeezing my cheeks. “Don’t make me regret this”…she replied a final time.  I chuckled to myself…(Laughs) She was not suitable to be a wife let alone a “MOTHER”! I already had made up my mind…she was not my mom, and couldn’t force me to claim her as such.

The wedding was arranged for tomorrow. My young life would soon be heading down a path of possible “boarding school”. Kris and my father had left early for their dinner rehearsal while I stayed over at “Grandma Sue’s” that evening.  Sue, was a kind and gentle soul. She baked the best chocolate chip cookies as well as brownies! Her husband “Grandpa Roger”, was the opposite…reserved, a tad quirky, but genuinely honest. He took his daily nap’s during the day, watched fishing shows,ate a satisfactory meal, and then repeated his routine of sleeping. Grandma sue had commanded it was time for my bedtime too. She accompanied me down the stairs.

The basement was full of cob webs, and old paintings with steel frames were displayed on each side of the jagged walls. The television was near the guest room along with lots of cabinet space ideal for nativity sets, ornaments, and picture albums. She loved her collection of angels, as they were dispersed in every room of her exquisite home. The vaulted ceiling’s contained hidden weaponry…which children were forbidden to touch. Grandma Sue, had made it clear no possessions were to be toyed with. I was good at abiding by boundaries regardless. We entered the guest room and she tucked me into the tidy little bed. I sunk into the sheets and embraced the warmth of my fluffy pillow. “Good night dear”. She whispered.

The wind howled near my window and shook the ground beneath me. I had awoken to discover my body was burning up rapidly. It felt like I had been laying next to a fire-place, but that wasn’t the actual reason. My stomach gurgled with an oddly sharp sensation lingering in my gut. I stood up nauseated and prepared to rush towards the toilet vicinity without gasping for breath. By the time I had reached the bathroom door…it was too late. The smell of vomit infused my senses as well as stained the carpet floor. A light suddenly flickered on, and Grandma Sue lead me back to bed with a benevolent gestured hug. “You are quite flushed dear child”. She than returned toward the bathroom, disinfected the carpet, and brought me back some Tylenol.

“Open up wide, we need to take your temperature” She hinted. “We must notify a doctor immediately tomorrow morning if the symptoms don’t reside”. The thermometer read 101.5 degrees. She then saturated a clean cloth with cold water, and laid it over my forehead. “Get some rest, and I will checkup on you in the morning”. I closed my eyes, the sharp “pin & needle” effect was overpowering. I tossed and turned all throughout the night…trying to avoid another “spewing” session. The night was uncertain, but I squeezed my pillow firmly. With my eye’s fastened shut; the re-occurring dream had begun to take toll. The mirror was reflective and the room I had been trapped in continuously spun in consecutive motion.  The laughing echoed even louder now and the brink of time emerged.

Daybreak had arisen, and soon I had forced myself awake. Grandma Sue was kneeled down beside me stroking my red hair back. “You had yourself a bad dream I presume”? Luckily it was only a nightmare…but, I had frequent dreams that dealt with cyclonic disturbances often. My stomach was still uneasy…and low and behold another episode of vomit occurred. “You poor little dear…let’s sit you up and take your temp”. The thermometer this time read 102 degrees. “Goodness… Let’s settle you down in a luke-warm bath”. My reeking body was soon covered in lavender aroma. I played with my rubber ducky and captivated inside of my imagination. The hour I had spent in the bubble bath was an invigorating adventure! (Kid Perspective).

Good night, Diary.

 

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The Homeward Bound

Reuniting Lost Relations~ (Entry 8) {1995}

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Dear Diary,

I had drifted off into a deep slumber. It felt as if time stopped for a short duration, and everything surrounding me disappeared into a faint cloud of dust. The cold breeze gently brushed my face as my eyelids slowly opened. I recalled awakening from a nightmare…my soul was trapped in a dark room and there was a mirror hanging from a colorless wall. The mirror gleamed every time I had glanced back at it. The reflection, revealed my own identity…but, the image displayed no face just a shadow outlining my outer appearance. The glass shattered, and an evil creature identical to the face of Nana appeared. The demonic brute began to laugh eccentrically and the room shifted rapidly before me. The dream continued…everything was a blur yet vividly distinct.

Of course, the dream was short-lived…but, it was difficult for me to snap out of the trance I was in. My mind had created a world of its own it seemed (Laughs). The room spun like a cyclone and then I had awaken. Such bizarre imagery I had thought. Yet, today would be a start to something far more enchanting. Well, at least for the meantime I was free of Nana’s bondage. The ground was moist from the rainfall the night before last. My feet and hands were covered in mud and to top it off… my hair was fit to become a robin’s nest. I stood up walking towards the riverbed. The current waves were a bit calmer now. Perhaps, I could take a quick dip to cleanse myself off.

I steadily submerged my feet into the shallow body of water. The chilled water was a bit overwhelming at first…but my body adapted to the temperature fairly quickly. My clothes were soiled and a bit damp too. Again, I had intended to cleanse the filth from my weak body. But, my foot decided to slip from the rock I stood on, and I had completely drenched myself in the river. Thankfully, I had learned to swim with precision. My father had momentarily volunteered to teach me the basics when I was about 4 years of age. He had taught me to never fear anything, because it was my psyche playing tricks on me.  So I took his advice with a “grain of salt”. (Laughs) Nothing my father had said was to be taken seriously. Anyone that had perceived him differently was a fool.

The clouds above me began fluctuating and that was my cue to start back on the road. I was uncertain about which direction the path would lead me to. Regardless, I was a long ways from Nana and that was all that mattered. My stomach felt hollow, perturbed and craved something meaty. Although, I lacked the skills to fish, hunt and prepare my own food for sustainability. I became irritable and just yearned for a hot dish…anything edible would be adequate at this point. The road was isolated…no cars in sight, and I had trodded alongside the curb. My feet were bare as I had runaway without any form of support for my ankles. I had to be cautious of glass or sharp objects nearby.

A few hours had passed by now. Beads of sweat dribbled down from the sun’s beaming light on my face. My body was deficient of nutrition and I wanted to collapse desperately. But, my willpower to carry on throughout this journey surpassed my mental state of mind. It wouldn’t be much further…maybe there was a gas station among here and I would soon be granted an opportunity to steal some resources for my survival. Suddenly, my cry for help became apparent. A shiny vehicle was headed my way and it coincidentally looked familiar. “Kristi”! “Thank heaven’s your okay dear child”. The tall women with the blue badge appeared offering me a tender hug.

“Please don’t take me back to the elderly lady”…I begged. Cecile nodded slightly. I had later on found out, Nana had discovered her karma after all. She had not reported my disappearance and social services had somehow found out about it. She was charged with negligence and false misconduct. I had later conveyed to my social worker all the other forms of mistreatment she had bestowed upon all of us. My social worker was speechless and full of disbelief. “I have a surprise for you…and commend you for being such an awfully courageous little girl. I smiled with wide eyes as I loved unexpected gifts. “Your father has served his time in jail long enough…and will be released this evening”.

My smile was contagious that afternoon…it lit up every face in the room and my heart was most content. The thought of reuniting with my father was a remarkable feeling. It had been a full 6 months, and we had a lot to catch up on. What was it like being held behind bars? Did he experience a hell bound environment similar to mine? It didn’t matter as long as I got to be back home. Cecile had taken me to a restaurant, and I was able to consume the best hot meal that I had ever eaten in a long while. My platter was full of steamed broccoli, homemade mac & cheese, some slices of fresh garlic bread and chicken strips enriched with a glazed honey-mustard sauce. Finally life became joyful and surreal for a brief period again.

When we reached the police station, there was my father boggle-eyed…standing in astonishment of my safe return. I galloped with strong force towards my dad…he wrapped his arms around me; we were both teary eyed and breathless to say the least. His tone was distraught, like he was confound, but confused. “What is wrong daddy”? I had asked calmly. His life had dramatically changed over the 6 month time frame we had been apart. He didn’t view me as joy in his life…but more as a burden now. He had financially sacrificed everything for his drug obsession. Indeed, Kris was still occupying the home, but why did she allow social services to take me into an inhospitable arrangement to begin with? Father grinned down at me. “Let’s go home kiddo”.

Good night Diary.

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Escaping Fate

Through The Eyes of a Monster ~ (Entry 7) {1995}

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Dear Diary,

Dawn had soon arrived, and my tiny body began shaking from the cold air whirling wildly. My auburn hair…a bit messy from a restless dream… as well as my pillow drenched in tears and sweat. I had laid awake for countless hours…trying to put together the missing pieces of that “message”. If God was truly capable of “punishing” humanity…wouldn’t that also mean he was invincible? Questions levitated inside my head continuously. Nana, had made a new list of duties to fulfill today, but my mind was so fixated on God. What made a normal peasant simply a God?

Nana hid a bible somewhere in the premises…I just wasn’t aware of where it could be located. She briefly mentioned a few months ago…there was a door that all children were forbidden to enter. Perhaps, it was concealed within its chambers (laughs). Oh well, the months lingered on, and I was becoming more hopeful for karma to reach Nana one way or another. “Why are you not completing your duties in a timely manner”? I paused with a cheeky remark. “Sorry Nana…was waiting on your permission to practice my alphabet”. Nana snorted. “Alright, if you insist…you better not make a fool out of me”. I nodded.

Five months had passed by. I had been progressing slowly, and the pace of a tortoise…was obviously no match for Nana. The gaps in my learning ability…meant lots of consequences. I was thrown down stairs, beaten with leather, slapped in the face, forced to do additional labor…the list of torture was endless. My body was raw, sore and just completely drained from all the horrible shit the elderly women had done to me. I would just have to endure another month…and soon be reunited with my father once again. Nothing seemed to matter…the house would always contain a hideous display of useless junk.

Nana was a hoarder. She kept stacks of receipts, books, paper, stationary, stamps, and collectibles all cluttered and disoriented on her wooden desk. They were irrelevant…as she never used them. They just existed in a pile of dust, grime and filth. Yet, she expected us children to enable her…because she was the laziest elderly women I had ever encountered in my life. Kids were not designed to become slaves…they were expected to laugh, play in the mud, and enjoy a simple life. However Nana, didn’t value children in that aspect. We were merely just a colony of ants…gathering, preparing and creating an easier life-style for the “adult”. We had no entitlement…no worth, and just viewed as scum.

I grasped the flash cards tightly in my hands. A…B…C…D…E…F…G…H…I…J…k-a…k-a My body began to clamp up as I stuttered with the letter K. “You stupid girl…you lied to me”. “I am trying”…I wept with one bead of tear falling from my lower lashes. She slapped me across the face, leaving a hand mark visible on the apples of my cheek. “I warned you girly…acting stupid around me gets you nothing”. I angrily excused myself…running frantically out the door. She ran after me…but my youthful energy exceeded her older age. I felt like a bird without wings…attempting to escape it’s caged habitat. I ran far away…and didn’t stop till I was certain no one would find my whereabouts.

Finally, I had approached a waterway and sat down to rest. The sun had descended now, and surely Nana had surrendered her efforts of chasing me down. I smiled down upon my reflection by the river. The vessels of the current moved rapidly…caressing the rocks. The air smelt like fresh cut grass and it reassured my conscience.  I was free temporarily…but soon enough someone would find me trespassing here. I curled myself into a ball and shut my eyes. A grayish-silver spider had intervened in my space… It alarmed me as it hung down from a silk strand… then gradually crawled onto my hand.  I flinched, and accidentally scared the little guy off. I am sure he was just hoping for a little company too. (laughs).

I unraveled myself, standing up and wishing for a bite to eat. 4 hours had gone by since I had escaped Nana. I pitied the children that were still left to suffer in her care. But, I had to runaway for the sake of saving myself from another hard-core beating ritual. The darkness impaired my visual perception as I continued to walk along side the river…in search of an aliment. I feared diving into the deep depths of the river, and avoided it completely. Though, I knew that my best option would be to catch a fish. I had to be expeditious or the fish would squirm out of fear. How would I catch a fish with no net? Maybe a stick would suffice? The stick would need to be sturdy enough to distract the fish…no a rock?

My stomach ached and I had to come up with a brilliant idea. Although my patience was thinning and my eyes were still deprived of a restful sleep. I was too weak to even ponder an idea at this point. So without another thought I dozed off into oblivion. The wind was harsh that night, and coyotes howled from a far. Luckily, I wasn’t anywhere near their dangerous territory. I was still fearful of my life and wondered how any small person could survive bitter weather. I longed for warmth and snuggles…the stuffed animal bunny I had once held in my arms prior to facing “Hell”. God, was I seriously a horrible daughter? I mused on as to why these events had taken place in my life. This life was nothing but an illusion…it was only temporary so I shouldn’t fret. I opened my eyes for a short second then closed them again…envisioning my next escapade. Where would this road lead me to next?

Good night, Diary.

 

 

 

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Inevitable Circumstances

A Slave Unchained~ (Entry 6) {1995}

11

Nana was not by any means an empathetic person. She held onto her own hatred as if a parasite clanged onto and infested her inner organs. The manifestation of true evil lurking in a shadow, dominated by the bondage of the devil himself. As I gradually redeemed myself, she stood awaiting my return of snatching the bar of soap. The fragrance was delightful, but I wondered what was up the elderly women’s sleeve this time. Well, I had discovered the answer real quick. ” Now, deary every time YOU dare talk back to me…this will be your reward…” Reward? Umm…(Laughs). This woman was insanely condescending. How could this possibly be a “reward”?

“Open your damn mouth”. Nana insisted. I opened my mouth, dimples in all…She had required me to bite on the bar of soap for several minutes. It seemed redundant…what lesson or purpose did this serve? A child tests an adults limits repeatedly…till they ultimately achieve their reasons for pestering right? At least, for me, as passive and inferior… I had become in the care of this elderly winch…it was entertaining to push her buttons. Perhaps, I enjoyed pain and adapted to it. Beatings everyday, became a way of life. Yup, I craved pain as it was a way to eventually numb my suppressed emotions. Undoubted, no child should have to endure the bearings of such a horrendous way of life. I neither accepted it nor denied its actuality.

Minutes ticked by, it seemed like an eternity before the potent taste in my mouth dissolved. I just closed my eyes, envisioning a ravishing sun beaming down on my face. A hand reaching out to cradle my heart, and a wisping cloud of fog surfacing into my reality. It was nonetheless concrete, but it kept me at ease during the numerous battles… I had fought throughout the months. Finally the form of “rewarding me” was over and I could breathe a sigh of relief. “Now get out of my way…perform your duties like an obedient idiot”. I swayed back and forth in disbelief…(Chuckling)…If only I was as stupid as she professed. Adults will never comprehend the imagination a child possesses. Unfortunately in her defense…her karma would soon become revealed overtime.

Chores were completed promptly as my stomach roared. Today my main goal was to scrub the bathroom tiles…a kids favorite passing time (Laughs) NOT. Coincidently, Nana wants again disapproved of my hard-work. I was proud of the countless hours…I had wasted, and more so than anything; just wanted to fill my taste-buds with bland…gooey goodness (Sarcastic Laugh). Many of my reader’s would probably not understand the gratitude of at least being fed a hot meal. The foster-life was indubitable, unpredictable and more or less uninhabitable. Yet, a small person like myself had to thicken their skin and fight the battles alone. Me and only me was all I could rely on. In the end of life that is usually all anyone has left.

I learned how to grow up fairly fast during those 6 months. I had no choice, because a small person in the “system” had no entitlement to their own feelings. My way of thinking was worthless in the eye’s of Nana. She belittled me and degraded my self-beliefs. I was trapped in her web, intertwined, contorted and left to wallow in my own demise. The day was still young; I had cleansed my hands thoroughly from the ammonia used to properly disinfect the tile floors.  The smell was unpleasant…I would have prefered using a more simplistic approach. Water and soap would of sufficed…but obviously the elderly women’s heart contained ice and nothing else. She had no remorse for the weary and underprivileged youngsters.

Dinner was served, and I was parched. My mouth watered at the sight of the unpalatable food before me. (Laughs) I suppose, it was unsurprising my stomach agreed with such distasteful quality of food. I thought about how people deserted on an island survived. It is amazing what people gravitate towards when they are merely starved. Literally, people sustain solely off of insects, worms and other grotesque organism…wouldn’t that be disgusting? What happens to those organisms once they are entirely digested? The thought of it churned my stomache. In fact, I almost hurled my dinner that evening. I stopped myself, knowing Nana would notice and once again forcibly smear my face in it. (Yuck)!

After an interestingly revolting meal; Nana told us to dress into our best attire for a church event. We left a quarter to seven o-cloak…and I was astonished by how put-together the elderly women appeared. She wore fine pearls around her neck, a splash of perfume, her lips painted a dark crimson shade along with a dark pink cardigan around her slightly plump torso. Her legs were covered with black pants and her hair neatly styled with tight ringlets. “Rush along children…we must not be late”. She reciprocated. I pivoted my body towards the door and quietly entered the vehicle. It had been a whole week since being accompanied for church. We attended every Wednesday evenings and I enjoyed how kind and less intimidating the environment seemed.

Nana was a “Catholic” even though she came across cynical and narcotic. I couldn’t quite understand her motives. I honestly don’t think anyone could truly understand why someone could behave so hypocritically. Then again, what did I know? I was just a naive, idiotic…weakling; incapable of understanding anything. Church became my new sanctuary. The music was harmonious, soothing and just felt welcoming. I longed to know who or what God signified. Could God be a tangible being, or was he or she simply ambiguous? I strived to discover the answers. I attentively listened to the preacher as he lectured to the congregation each Wednesday evening. God was love, as his begotten son had sacrified his life for the sins of humanity. I began to dwell on this statement…What did it mean to sacrifice a life for the sin’s of humanity?

Good night, Diary.

 

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Never forget the lessons in life that helped shape your own universe~
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