Journal Entry #5

 

This is a story I wrote WAY back in the day. It’s about tragady and fear and what it must be like to be alone.

Abuse
Story of Disappointment

The warmth of the covers felt comforting almost angel like to the small boy huddled beneath the oversized blanket. The light from under the door illuminated the toys in the room into shadowy monsters and moving waves of evil terror. The boy’s fragile fingers clutched the edge of the blanket, his white knuckles pulling it closer to his chin. The shadows on the walls changed and moved as another shadow came closer to his bedroom door. Fright filled the little boy’s blue eyes, terror gripping every inch of his tiny dark body. The door opened slowly. Crackling with every inch .

Now there in the opened doorway stood a hellish figure of a man. His shape a silhouette from the bright hall light. His face as black as the surrounding night, with evil flashing in heated waves off his darkened face. The large man moved closer to the bed as the shadow on the hall wall moved away, as if it didn’t care what happened to the poor tiny body within. Rough beast like fingers garbed the blanket and pulled it effortlessly from the child’s white knuckled grip. The boy, too scared to scream, to scared to move, just laid there, while dark hands came down over the boy’s face and neck. The pressure so strong that the boys blurring vision and sudden confusion shook him from his daze. And with sweeping hands and legs tried to break free of the choking hold. But all was in vain, all his attempts meet with even stronger resistance.

The boys’s mind was racing; self hatred in his eyes; his soul wanted to believe that it wasn’t his fault that his father had to do what he did, to teach the boy, to discipline the boy. The man’s hands now clenched into fists rained down on the little boy’s tiny frame. Like large baseball sized hail stones pitting his mid section into numbness. The boy’s yelling stopped, his breath now stolen from his lungs, his screams no longer mattered. His tearing eyes wondered across the room. The baseball glove that his father had given him lay turned on its side, its ball rolling slowly into the corner. His toy fire engine now sat knocked over by the man he called his father. Its tiny red light broken by countless times at play. Its shiny red paint fading much like the boy’s hope.

Then the small brown teddy bear on the rocker next to the bed stole his attention. Its insignificant useless stubby arms and legs much like his own. Like him the bear was helpless, relying on others. In whispered sobs the boy made one last attempt to struggle free, to call for help. But the only sound in the black room was of his father crying. Tears rolling down the man’s sweat covered cheeks. “Forgive me,” his only words, his only shameful escape from the moment. And the boys’s eyes faded that night; hollow and distant. His thoughts focused on the tiny bear, the fragile bear, the bear the boy hated to be.

The Demon Within Us All
(Father, Please Forgive Me)
11/14/1991

 Posted by at 10:17 am