Once upon a time, I was a young girl...I changed
Things that made me feel uncomfortable, I learned to bury. I watched Cami digging a hole in the dirt on the playground. I stood there in my little skirt and sandals watching intently as she dug frantically into the soil of the playground. Her little stick splintered and broke then she got another one. She was crying, crying so hard that the dirt got wet and balled up underneathe her stick. I felt sorry for her. I approached her and stood watching.
Her second stick broke and she looked around for another one. That is when she saw me and fell backwards. Her face was in shock. The hole that she was digging was big enough to hide my foot if I was to place it there. I looked into her eyes and she dropped her head. I asked her what she was doing. At first she said nothing and picked up her stick. She started to dig again, slowly at first then she picked up the pace. I squated down in front of her and asked her what she was doing.
"I am digging a hole...a hole to hell. So, that the devil can come and get you." She looked up at me in a mix of anger and fear.
I tilted my head and lifted her chin to see her face. I felt sorry for her but I had to be honest.
"YOu shouldn't do that, Cami. It just could not be good for you." I smiled.
"why?" she stammered.
I smiled. "Because, if you send for the devil, then he will take you."
I walked away. She continued to dig.
1982
Sometime in the beginning of the year of 1982 was when I spent most of my time with my male cousins, Jake and Grant. Jake was two years younger than me and Grant was two years younger than Jake. I found both of them very interesting to play with but sometimes, I was revolted by them because they were males. Most of the males either beat me, touched me or treated me in a negative manner. The only males who I felt safe around was my brother and sometimes my father when he wasn't angry. I looked at males with a mixture of excitement and hatred. At this time, I did not know that some males could have good souls. I was a child and children call them as they see them.
I played with my cousins in the woods, in the yard and would visit with them at my aunt's house. We watched horror movies together and fought each other quite frequently. Over the course of 1981 and 1982, I learned to loved them and learn that not everyone wanted to treat me in an inferior manner. In fact, I developed a crush on Jake and loved it when he would hug me and ride four wheelers with me. The feel of my body against his was nice. I wasn't being molested by George, I was equal...I felt in control of my emotions. It was something new to me.
One of our favorite games was to throw green apples over my aunt's house. One of us would stand in the back yard while the other one would stand in the front. The third one would stand watch until my aunt came outside to see what was going on. The apples would thump thump across the roof and we would catch them and throw them back. She would become angry and make us go inside. I know it was mischevious, but it was fun.
1982
I started hiding from George sometime in the year of 1982. I would hide in comforting places like behind my grandmother's huge chair in her room. I would hide in the woods at times when mom and dad were not looking. I would watch George go inside the house then watch him come back out and look around. He searched the entire yard looking for me. Then he would walk, or more so, shamble up the road back to his house. I would come back into the yard and sit on the porch. I felt a sudden wave of relief knowing that I did not have to meet his demands that day.
As time went on, I felt more and more disgust at what George did with me. Over time, I managed to avoid him several times within a week. I cherished those days, it was as if I had won a battle with something. But I knew that it was going to get harder to do as George started to figure out that he was being rejected. I remember the day so clearly that George figured out that he was being rejected. One day, George came back down the road only minutes after I had returned from hiding. He saw me and started walking faster. I remember my shoes scrambling backward up the front steps and my grandmother asking me something through the screen door. I couldn't make out what she was saying but I knew she had seen me stumble. I ran inside and went to my grandmother's room. Grabbing a blanket, I coverd myself from head to toe and waited quietly in hopes that he would get tired of me and decide to go home. I thought I had locked my grandmother's bedroom door and was being very quiet....but nothing could stop him from finding me.
I heard the door when it creaked, I heard the steps grow closer to my huddled mass and then I heard his breathing. George was a mouth breather, He was the kind of guy that seemed to be standing right over you at all times until you ran away, screamed or just sat revolted...frozen.
He lifted the blanket and looked at me. Then he spoke two words. Laying one finger against his lips he spoke.
"Don't tell."
Then he pulled my roughly from under my covers.othing could stop him from finding me.
I heard the door when it creaked, I heard the steps grow closer to my huddled mass and then I heard his breathing. George was a mouth breather, He was the kind of guy that seemed to be standing right over you at all times until you ran away, screamed or just sat revolted...frozen.
He lifted the blanket and looked at me. Then he spoke two words. Laying one finger against his lips he spoke.
"Don't tell."
Then he pulled my roughly from under my covers.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Sunday, December 16, 2012
14
1981
My anger grew as I moved through the motions of life. George visited everyday and i Numbly let him have my young body. My mind was very far away from this scenario he created. Mom was at work and daddy was somewhere. Daddy could not keep a job and so he hunted or built things for friends. But they never stayed at home with me. My grandmother cooked nice things for me and let me watch television with her until George came and she made me go "play " with him.
ONe afternoon when moma and daddy were home, a strange boy and his father came calling. I remember the way they looked as they whipped into the driveway and jumped out of their truck. Their faces were pale as the moon. My daddy went out the door and I watched them talking. My daddy dropped his head then ran back toward the house. Daddy told me to go to my grandmother's room and be a good girl. I went to her room but quickly doubled back and snuck down the hallway. Allen came out of my grandmother's room and walked to the front of the house. I heard daddy yell at him to go back to the room. The shadows in the hallway covered me as I crawled back toward my parent's room. I heard them whispering and my mother gasped. As they talked very low, I could make out enough to understand what was going on. The men were hunters and they had found a body in the woods. My father was telling my mother that he had to go check it out since he was the town deputy. Yes, my father was law enforcement at the time and he was responsible for such happenings in the town when the sheriff wasn't available.
Father made adjustments and grabbed a gun. He then headed out the door to follow the men to where the body had been found. I was so intrigued and could not concentrate on anything the rest of the night. When father returned, I went to sit my him. He seemed so strange to me...distant and alien. I smiled up at him and lay my head on his shoulder. After some time, I heard him tell my mother that he had to go back out the same night.
I wanted to go with my father. I wanted to see what he saw. As men gathered in the yard to continue the search for the body, I went up to my daddy and tugged at his sleeve.
"Can I go with you?" I asked. I was surprised when he said...
"sure"
1981
Only parts of the body were found at a time. A foot, an arm and then the rib cage. It was like an alien world in those woods that night. I beleive my brother went with us too...I cannot remember...I was just so enamored by the whole ordeal. Curious and wanting to see more. I did remember seeing a sock with something in it. Yes, it was a foot. I can still remember the way my father sounded when he found that sock. I can remember the air coming from his lungs as the sadness welled up inside.
They all knew...deep down...they knew who the body belonged to. Some time before a teenage boy had gone missing from Falkner Ms. His name was Steve Brown and he was murdered on a hunting trip. He was murdered in the woods across from my home. I tilted my head in wonder at the whole of it.
I didn't really know sadness but I knew finality. I knew that death and his work. He was rather enjoying this and slid up beside me in the dark.
"seeeee....see, this is how you end a dispute." I was confused
but death was not...
ref: facts detailing incidents from the true story about Steve Brown and Mike Miskely, see the motion picture, Deperate for love with Christian Slater.
Cami tried to bully me only once again. One time at school, I was staying inside the first grade classroom because I wanted to be alone. I preferred to be by myself at odd times as those. I was quietly freaking out and trying to fit the peices of the weirdness together. She came inside with a very big girl; I know this girl was twice her size. She spied me sitting in the corner of the classroom. I turned to see her smirk and then laugh. I do not know where her courage came from but she pulled if forth and spoke to me in authority. I remember her words like they were words spoken to me an hour ago.
"You are not allowed to be in here during recess." She spoke confidently.
I am sure she was not afraid because of the large girl at her side. I rose and walked over to her and looked into her face. Her smile dissapeared but she gathered some fool courage regardless.
"You heard me." Then she pushed me.
ONe push, one push is all it took for me to ignite. I say ignite because that is the only possible way to explain what occured in my brain. I grabbed her and went blank. Blackness devoured me. I could not see, I could not feel or hear anything. My vision cleared and I saw her there. Three rows of desks were turned over and she was crumpled in the midst of them. she screamed and cried horribly. I looked around and saw the big girl cower from me. The door swung open and our teacher stormed into the room. She was very angry and she scanned the room and all the damage. ONe of the desks was broken and Cami's lip was bleeding. I backed away timidly and held my hands to my mouth. The teacher glanced at Cami crumpled on the floor crying and walked briskly toward me. I knew I was in a world of trouble based on how Ms. Graves looked. She smoldered then slowly started to smile.
She took my arm and led me out the other door into the hallway.
She looked into my face and smiled sweetly, then she spoke.
"Sherrie, I am so proud of you for sticking up for yourself." She rubbed my face. "But you need to go clean that mess up in there...NOw." She frowned then turned to walk away.
I had no thoughts but I heard laughter from somewhere behind me. Death spoke again
"Almost there...now just a little harder. Kill her."
I had enough of him. I hated death and I wanted him to go away. I screamed.
"Go away!!!!!! Leave me alone!!! I will not do it! It's wrong!"
I wept
My anger grew as I moved through the motions of life. George visited everyday and i Numbly let him have my young body. My mind was very far away from this scenario he created. Mom was at work and daddy was somewhere. Daddy could not keep a job and so he hunted or built things for friends. But they never stayed at home with me. My grandmother cooked nice things for me and let me watch television with her until George came and she made me go "play " with him.
ONe afternoon when moma and daddy were home, a strange boy and his father came calling. I remember the way they looked as they whipped into the driveway and jumped out of their truck. Their faces were pale as the moon. My daddy went out the door and I watched them talking. My daddy dropped his head then ran back toward the house. Daddy told me to go to my grandmother's room and be a good girl. I went to her room but quickly doubled back and snuck down the hallway. Allen came out of my grandmother's room and walked to the front of the house. I heard daddy yell at him to go back to the room. The shadows in the hallway covered me as I crawled back toward my parent's room. I heard them whispering and my mother gasped. As they talked very low, I could make out enough to understand what was going on. The men were hunters and they had found a body in the woods. My father was telling my mother that he had to go check it out since he was the town deputy. Yes, my father was law enforcement at the time and he was responsible for such happenings in the town when the sheriff wasn't available.
Father made adjustments and grabbed a gun. He then headed out the door to follow the men to where the body had been found. I was so intrigued and could not concentrate on anything the rest of the night. When father returned, I went to sit my him. He seemed so strange to me...distant and alien. I smiled up at him and lay my head on his shoulder. After some time, I heard him tell my mother that he had to go back out the same night.
I wanted to go with my father. I wanted to see what he saw. As men gathered in the yard to continue the search for the body, I went up to my daddy and tugged at his sleeve.
"Can I go with you?" I asked. I was surprised when he said...
"sure"
1981
Only parts of the body were found at a time. A foot, an arm and then the rib cage. It was like an alien world in those woods that night. I beleive my brother went with us too...I cannot remember...I was just so enamored by the whole ordeal. Curious and wanting to see more. I did remember seeing a sock with something in it. Yes, it was a foot. I can still remember the way my father sounded when he found that sock. I can remember the air coming from his lungs as the sadness welled up inside.
They all knew...deep down...they knew who the body belonged to. Some time before a teenage boy had gone missing from Falkner Ms. His name was Steve Brown and he was murdered on a hunting trip. He was murdered in the woods across from my home. I tilted my head in wonder at the whole of it.
I didn't really know sadness but I knew finality. I knew that death and his work. He was rather enjoying this and slid up beside me in the dark.
"seeeee....see, this is how you end a dispute." I was confused
but death was not...
ref: facts detailing incidents from the true story about Steve Brown and Mike Miskely, see the motion picture, Deperate for love with Christian Slater.
Cami tried to bully me only once again. One time at school, I was staying inside the first grade classroom because I wanted to be alone. I preferred to be by myself at odd times as those. I was quietly freaking out and trying to fit the peices of the weirdness together. She came inside with a very big girl; I know this girl was twice her size. She spied me sitting in the corner of the classroom. I turned to see her smirk and then laugh. I do not know where her courage came from but she pulled if forth and spoke to me in authority. I remember her words like they were words spoken to me an hour ago.
"You are not allowed to be in here during recess." She spoke confidently.
I am sure she was not afraid because of the large girl at her side. I rose and walked over to her and looked into her face. Her smile dissapeared but she gathered some fool courage regardless.
"You heard me." Then she pushed me.
ONe push, one push is all it took for me to ignite. I say ignite because that is the only possible way to explain what occured in my brain. I grabbed her and went blank. Blackness devoured me. I could not see, I could not feel or hear anything. My vision cleared and I saw her there. Three rows of desks were turned over and she was crumpled in the midst of them. she screamed and cried horribly. I looked around and saw the big girl cower from me. The door swung open and our teacher stormed into the room. She was very angry and she scanned the room and all the damage. ONe of the desks was broken and Cami's lip was bleeding. I backed away timidly and held my hands to my mouth. The teacher glanced at Cami crumpled on the floor crying and walked briskly toward me. I knew I was in a world of trouble based on how Ms. Graves looked. She smoldered then slowly started to smile.
She took my arm and led me out the other door into the hallway.
She looked into my face and smiled sweetly, then she spoke.
"Sherrie, I am so proud of you for sticking up for yourself." She rubbed my face. "But you need to go clean that mess up in there...NOw." She frowned then turned to walk away.
I had no thoughts but I heard laughter from somewhere behind me. Death spoke again
"Almost there...now just a little harder. Kill her."
I had enough of him. I hated death and I wanted him to go away. I screamed.
"Go away!!!!!! Leave me alone!!! I will not do it! It's wrong!"
I wept
Saturday, December 15, 2012
13
1981
I listened to Cami for a long time. She told me what to do and how to do it and I would comply with her. I knew that death was wrong about all of them being inbred fools. In my heart, I knew Cami had good intentions, or so I thought. I wanted to beleive this, maybe...I wanted to beleive these things because it was easier than to stand up for myself. I tried so hard for a long time to give Cami the benefit of the doubt before I changed my mind. I did not do lots of thinking or planning when I changed my mind about Cami, I just acted.
One of those days that Cami came down the little dirt road to play with me, we decided to play with my dolls. We had something to drink while moma cooked dinner then we went to my room. There we got all my barbies from the box underneath my grandmother's room (which was my room too).
Cami told me that we should light candles and pretend that the dolls were on dates. I disagreed and told her that it was a bad idea to burn candles in my grandmother's room. Cami told me to be quiet and continued to light the candles. We sat on the floor and arranged little barbie tables and candles in an area that we called our restaurant.
I picked up a dress and started to put it on my barbie.
"No, not that one, it's mine!"
I looked at the dress and then handed it over to Cami. She slapped the dress out of my hand an motioned for something else.
I looked at her and spoke. "What do you want?"
" That doll is mine. I don't want that ugly dress. I want my doll."
I gave my doll to Cami and picked up another one. I dressed my doll and sat her by the dollie furniture.
She glanced at what I was doing. "
and Cami said no. She told me that the dress that I picked was hers and the doll was too. So I had to hand over my doll for another one. Then I dressed my doll and sat her at the little barbie table nearest to me. and said no. She said that I should not be sitting; I should be standing and talking to the ken doll. I did as Cami said. I could feel the fumes from the candles wrapping around me and I grew a little aggitated. I picked up my doll and started to take her dress off, I wanted another one. Cami stopped fussing with her doll and looked at me. She reminded me that it was not time to take the dress off the doll. I gripped the doll tighter and looked at Cami. She had a stern look on her face and she frowned. I started to take the dress off again and she reached out taking the doll from my hand.
The mind is strange. It has episodes when it just shuts off entirely. Things are put in the wrong order and sometimes just erased. I do not remember rising from the floor, I do not remember leaping on top of Cami but I do remember choking her.
I had both hands around her neck and I was strangling her. I slammed her head onto the floor countless times as she made a gurling squealing noise through the opening that she had left in her throat. Her hands were wrapped around mine trying to pry me loose from her. I only let her go long enough to reach for some weapon with my right hand. I grabbed one of the barbie furniture peices that had sharp corners. I beat her face with the furniture while keeping my other hand around her neck. My thighs held her body down as well. I screamed at her not remembering what I was saying. Then I was pulled roughly from Cami. My mother was there and she was yelling at me.
My mother pulled me from Cami and saved my little friend that day. All the time she soothed me, death chided.
"see, I told you...she is an inbred fool. YOu should have killed her."
I was ashamed at how I felt and I ran outside.
1981
I stopped listening to death. I felt him near but I ignored him. Even when George was touching me, I let the pleasure pass through me. I had no desire to be as death wanted me to be. I was no killer, I was not that sort of evil and I had everything that George wanted. I think I beleived at some point that George loved me.
I started to approach him and take his hand in mine. I would draw him to my room and help him to find my special place. I know, I was a special knid of evil maybe. I was an evil that had time to grow and time to develop into what I should be. I had let him touch me, showed others how it felt when he touched me and now I was desiring that touch. I would alternate between lust and guilt. I would approach him and let him touch me and then, at other times, I would fight him and push him away.
All these thoughts should never have passed through this little child's mind but they did. I was chipping and coming apart. I could feel the surface leaking out some black fluid. The pink surface gave way to gray and my smile would turn deeper and my eyes slightly closed.
the things I learned were many, the pain I endured was horrendous...these things I gave away...my soul
I listened to Cami for a long time. She told me what to do and how to do it and I would comply with her. I knew that death was wrong about all of them being inbred fools. In my heart, I knew Cami had good intentions, or so I thought. I wanted to beleive this, maybe...I wanted to beleive these things because it was easier than to stand up for myself. I tried so hard for a long time to give Cami the benefit of the doubt before I changed my mind. I did not do lots of thinking or planning when I changed my mind about Cami, I just acted.
One of those days that Cami came down the little dirt road to play with me, we decided to play with my dolls. We had something to drink while moma cooked dinner then we went to my room. There we got all my barbies from the box underneath my grandmother's room (which was my room too).
Cami told me that we should light candles and pretend that the dolls were on dates. I disagreed and told her that it was a bad idea to burn candles in my grandmother's room. Cami told me to be quiet and continued to light the candles. We sat on the floor and arranged little barbie tables and candles in an area that we called our restaurant.
I picked up a dress and started to put it on my barbie.
"No, not that one, it's mine!"
I looked at the dress and then handed it over to Cami. She slapped the dress out of my hand an motioned for something else.
I looked at her and spoke. "What do you want?"
" That doll is mine. I don't want that ugly dress. I want my doll."
I gave my doll to Cami and picked up another one. I dressed my doll and sat her by the dollie furniture.
She glanced at what I was doing. "
and Cami said no. She told me that the dress that I picked was hers and the doll was too. So I had to hand over my doll for another one. Then I dressed my doll and sat her at the little barbie table nearest to me. and said no. She said that I should not be sitting; I should be standing and talking to the ken doll. I did as Cami said. I could feel the fumes from the candles wrapping around me and I grew a little aggitated. I picked up my doll and started to take her dress off, I wanted another one. Cami stopped fussing with her doll and looked at me. She reminded me that it was not time to take the dress off the doll. I gripped the doll tighter and looked at Cami. She had a stern look on her face and she frowned. I started to take the dress off again and she reached out taking the doll from my hand.
The mind is strange. It has episodes when it just shuts off entirely. Things are put in the wrong order and sometimes just erased. I do not remember rising from the floor, I do not remember leaping on top of Cami but I do remember choking her.
I had both hands around her neck and I was strangling her. I slammed her head onto the floor countless times as she made a gurling squealing noise through the opening that she had left in her throat. Her hands were wrapped around mine trying to pry me loose from her. I only let her go long enough to reach for some weapon with my right hand. I grabbed one of the barbie furniture peices that had sharp corners. I beat her face with the furniture while keeping my other hand around her neck. My thighs held her body down as well. I screamed at her not remembering what I was saying. Then I was pulled roughly from Cami. My mother was there and she was yelling at me.
My mother pulled me from Cami and saved my little friend that day. All the time she soothed me, death chided.
"see, I told you...she is an inbred fool. YOu should have killed her."
I was ashamed at how I felt and I ran outside.
1981
I stopped listening to death. I felt him near but I ignored him. Even when George was touching me, I let the pleasure pass through me. I had no desire to be as death wanted me to be. I was no killer, I was not that sort of evil and I had everything that George wanted. I think I beleived at some point that George loved me.
I started to approach him and take his hand in mine. I would draw him to my room and help him to find my special place. I know, I was a special knid of evil maybe. I was an evil that had time to grow and time to develop into what I should be. I had let him touch me, showed others how it felt when he touched me and now I was desiring that touch. I would alternate between lust and guilt. I would approach him and let him touch me and then, at other times, I would fight him and push him away.
All these thoughts should never have passed through this little child's mind but they did. I was chipping and coming apart. I could feel the surface leaking out some black fluid. The pink surface gave way to gray and my smile would turn deeper and my eyes slightly closed.
the things I learned were many, the pain I endured was horrendous...these things I gave away...my soul
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
2012
I do not know how much longer I can do this...this playing pretend to be a normal human being. As memories flow through my brain like a putrid river, I grow more inward and find it harder to breathe. Those things you see as me are not real;they are make believe. This, this book of demons is what is real.
I am not a monster...
Please cover my mouth, my eyes and bind my tongue.
Some things should never be spoken, some regrets undone and some wings....
should remain broken
broken permanently
I do not know how much longer I can do this...this playing pretend to be a normal human being. As memories flow through my brain like a putrid river, I grow more inward and find it harder to breathe. Those things you see as me are not real;they are make believe. This, this book of demons is what is real.
I am not a monster...
Please cover my mouth, my eyes and bind my tongue.
Some things should never be spoken, some regrets undone and some wings....
should remain broken
broken permanently
Sunday, December 2, 2012
She held me down, forcing the tobacco into my mouth.
"Close your mouth." She said
I closed my mouth and whimpered. I hated the sour taste but knew I could not dis obey her. I started to cry as a line of brown spittle erupted from my lips. My vision blurred and swayed.
Death was there, standing behind Cami. Death was even laughing at me.
Then blackness came.
"Close your mouth." She said
I closed my mouth and whimpered. I hated the sour taste but knew I could not dis obey her. I started to cry as a line of brown spittle erupted from my lips. My vision blurred and swayed.
Death was there, standing behind Cami. Death was even laughing at me.
Then blackness came.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
11
1980
My father saw me off to school or he would drive me to school, himself. I remember the way he looked at me right before I got on the bus. I could see a mixture of pride and warning in his eyes. He wanted me to know how much he loved me and he wanted me to know how dumb it would be if I was a bad girl. I read many things in my father's gaze and not all of them were pleasant. He would run his fingers through my auburn hair and send me off for another day at kindergarten.
My grandmother would wave at me from the window of the house as I got on the bus. Sometimes, when my aunt was visiting she would stand there beside my grandmother and wave as well..if she wasn't fussing with my clothes as I got on the bus. Mother was rarely around in the morning because she worked at the factory in Holly Springs. She worked for Sunbeam for years and years of her life.
My mother never drove because she was afraid of cars. I was told that it was because she had almost ran off a bridge once while learning to drive. Everywhere that mother wanted to go, my father or a neighbor had to take her. She could not read either and relied on us to read things for her. Even the grocery papers made my mother frustrated and she would sit and wait for someone to walk by and read to her. Sometimes if my grandmother wasn't busy, she would read to my mother. They became very close.
My father, as most other men, was an avid sports fan. His favorite sport was basketball. He would attend all the games that the Ashland team would play. He loved to take me with me...I figure he wanted me to love the game as well and to also show off his daughter to his friends. When George realized that basketball season was coming he would always come down the little dirt road and ask my father if he could go. I knew what would happen when he went with us.
The sexual abuse by my cousin George got worse. George would touch me all the way to the game and back home again. I was confused but I still let it happen. In the dark of my father's truck you could not see when George slipped his hand into my pants. You could not see his hand in my shirt nor could you hear him whispering that I should never tell. I didn't tell....not for a years and many years to come.
As I got used to kindergarten, I started to speak to others. But the only language that we had in common was fleshly pleasure. Of course, this was something that should never have existed but it did. Some children were developing feelings and wondering about things that adults did. Some of the girls on the bus would put their hands in my pants and I would do the same. Death told me that I started this habit. Later on, when my sister brought my neice, who was two years younger than me, to visit; I would show her part of my body and she would do the same to me. We had a special place in my grandmother's room that we would explore ourselves and play doctor. It was behind a big plush chair. As feelings of horrible dread eat away at me, I remember more. I was letting the disease spread which came from George. When he touched me, I would show the girls and my neice just what he did. I was becoming a childhood monster and gaining a form of control that I had never before experienced.
There were many demons....many demons which walked that little dirt road to my house. There was George, the pedaphile. There was Rodney the bully who, on a regular basis would beat me up and take my bicycle, hiding it in the woods. There was the two blonde sisters who came to visit acting as if their shit didn't stink. Telling me that I was strange and ugly then smiling those sickening saccarine smiles before returning back up the road. There were others... There was Cami and her brother. They came every day as George did. Cami was a little girl with waist length thick blonde hair and blue eyes. She always had an evil look on her face, just behind the smile. But I needed Cami.
Cami was a constant source of friendship during the seasons. She would walk down that little dirt road and play with me, she never called me ugly and so she thought I was obligated to be her friend. We played pretend in the woods, my room and behind my grandmother's house. She was always very bossy, not at first, but she always pulled me very gradually into being her pet. I was her make believe patient, her make believe lover and her slave. Once I was Elvis and I had to kiss her over and over, as she was Pricilla. When she wanted me to be the baby, I had to pretend to take a nap. I would lie there for a very long time with the covers pulled to my chin while she played with my dolls. When she was finished she made me get up and clean her mess. I was a dutiful slave then...but something crackled inside and flaked away gradually. After a while, a fire began to burn inside. It got hotter and hotter and it burned my skin. When I saw her walking down that dirt road one day, I grabbed a thorny branch on my gandmother's rose bush. I squeezed that branch tighter and tighter. The closer she got to my house, the harder I grasped the branch. As she walked up my driveway, I released the thorny branch. I remembered Cami's face as she looked down at my bloody hand. She really looked shocked.
Mommy made us Kool Aid and cookies. We watched television as Momma fussed over my hand. I was numb for a long time...but I stared at Cami's face. All I could see was the bones beneathe her skin. I hated her.
My father saw me off to school or he would drive me to school, himself. I remember the way he looked at me right before I got on the bus. I could see a mixture of pride and warning in his eyes. He wanted me to know how much he loved me and he wanted me to know how dumb it would be if I was a bad girl. I read many things in my father's gaze and not all of them were pleasant. He would run his fingers through my auburn hair and send me off for another day at kindergarten.
My grandmother would wave at me from the window of the house as I got on the bus. Sometimes, when my aunt was visiting she would stand there beside my grandmother and wave as well..if she wasn't fussing with my clothes as I got on the bus. Mother was rarely around in the morning because she worked at the factory in Holly Springs. She worked for Sunbeam for years and years of her life.
My mother never drove because she was afraid of cars. I was told that it was because she had almost ran off a bridge once while learning to drive. Everywhere that mother wanted to go, my father or a neighbor had to take her. She could not read either and relied on us to read things for her. Even the grocery papers made my mother frustrated and she would sit and wait for someone to walk by and read to her. Sometimes if my grandmother wasn't busy, she would read to my mother. They became very close.
My father, as most other men, was an avid sports fan. His favorite sport was basketball. He would attend all the games that the Ashland team would play. He loved to take me with me...I figure he wanted me to love the game as well and to also show off his daughter to his friends. When George realized that basketball season was coming he would always come down the little dirt road and ask my father if he could go. I knew what would happen when he went with us.
The sexual abuse by my cousin George got worse. George would touch me all the way to the game and back home again. I was confused but I still let it happen. In the dark of my father's truck you could not see when George slipped his hand into my pants. You could not see his hand in my shirt nor could you hear him whispering that I should never tell. I didn't tell....not for a years and many years to come.
As I got used to kindergarten, I started to speak to others. But the only language that we had in common was fleshly pleasure. Of course, this was something that should never have existed but it did. Some children were developing feelings and wondering about things that adults did. Some of the girls on the bus would put their hands in my pants and I would do the same. Death told me that I started this habit. Later on, when my sister brought my neice, who was two years younger than me, to visit; I would show her part of my body and she would do the same to me. We had a special place in my grandmother's room that we would explore ourselves and play doctor. It was behind a big plush chair. As feelings of horrible dread eat away at me, I remember more. I was letting the disease spread which came from George. When he touched me, I would show the girls and my neice just what he did. I was becoming a childhood monster and gaining a form of control that I had never before experienced.
There were many demons....many demons which walked that little dirt road to my house. There was George, the pedaphile. There was Rodney the bully who, on a regular basis would beat me up and take my bicycle, hiding it in the woods. There was the two blonde sisters who came to visit acting as if their shit didn't stink. Telling me that I was strange and ugly then smiling those sickening saccarine smiles before returning back up the road. There were others... There was Cami and her brother. They came every day as George did. Cami was a little girl with waist length thick blonde hair and blue eyes. She always had an evil look on her face, just behind the smile. But I needed Cami.
Cami was a constant source of friendship during the seasons. She would walk down that little dirt road and play with me, she never called me ugly and so she thought I was obligated to be her friend. We played pretend in the woods, my room and behind my grandmother's house. She was always very bossy, not at first, but she always pulled me very gradually into being her pet. I was her make believe patient, her make believe lover and her slave. Once I was Elvis and I had to kiss her over and over, as she was Pricilla. When she wanted me to be the baby, I had to pretend to take a nap. I would lie there for a very long time with the covers pulled to my chin while she played with my dolls. When she was finished she made me get up and clean her mess. I was a dutiful slave then...but something crackled inside and flaked away gradually. After a while, a fire began to burn inside. It got hotter and hotter and it burned my skin. When I saw her walking down that dirt road one day, I grabbed a thorny branch on my gandmother's rose bush. I squeezed that branch tighter and tighter. The closer she got to my house, the harder I grasped the branch. As she walked up my driveway, I released the thorny branch. I remembered Cami's face as she looked down at my bloody hand. She really looked shocked.
Mommy made us Kool Aid and cookies. We watched television as Momma fussed over my hand. I was numb for a long time...but I stared at Cami's face. All I could see was the bones beneathe her skin. I hated her.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
10
1979-1980
Daddy wanted a son who followed him and done the things that he did. He got that with my older brother; But then he also got a girl who wanted to be a boy and do those
things just as well.
I was made to love the soft and hard of life, so to speak. I wanted to hunt and shoot guns, I wanted to build things as my father did. One day daddy let me shoot his 22 pistol, it hurt my ears but I loved
it and was fascinated my the feel of it, the power I held. Although most people know that 22s only hold enough power to piss you off when using them. It was a small
amount of power and but was interesting. I wanted the control I felt through the steel and found it tantalizing. But Somehow I failed miserably. When confronted with monsters that wanted more control than I desired myself, I was both mezmerized and humbled. Again, I was back inside the small body of a female child.
My family was a fragment of a small tribe. Strong in their disfunction. Proud in their secrets. We were sophisticated animals of a sort. It was grueling, our survival.
We made life and we made death simultaneously to sustain, my family and I did so. We were almost self-sufficient in this.
Every year, there was a garden which provided our vegetables and fruits. There was bean,green,tomato,squash,cucumber,corn,onion and various other veggies. There were
melons as well. I remember the work, the toiling all the way to harvest time and how determined my father was to make us work for our food. The dirt, I remember the
smell of fresh damp earth underneath my fingertips. I loved to lay down in the tilled earth and feel it surround me. I did this until my father yelled for me to get
back to work.
Every year we filled our freezers and bellies with game from the forest behind our house and many other wooded areas near where we lived. We milked cows and goats and
got pork from my aunt's small farm up the little dirt road. We made kraut and butter in churns, we fished lakes and rivers for Catfish, bass and brim. There wasn't much
we could not provide for ourselves. Daddy killed deer, squirrel, rabit, racoon and possum then mother would help clean and prepare the game for our meals and to store
for winter. I remember blood....so much blood and parts of various animals. And for some reason, the white freezer paper sticks in my memories as some reminder of the
pristine compartment for our grisley gift wrappings. And I can remember the freezer...huge and monstrous with various dead animals cut into a creative array of portions
waiting for that fateful day when we would consume them. One day the big freezer came unplugged from the socket and all our meat went to ruin. My father was angry, my
mother cried and the stench was horrible. So we started over.
1980
I started kindergarten at the age of 5 and for some reason also attended through the age of 6. I have a faint memory of things that transpired at the school. I know
that I felt different from the other children, I felt alone...surrounded by a bubble in which I had a small world of my own. I watched the other children play together
and laugh. At nap time I would lie awake and watch two boys practice turning their eyelids inside out. I tried to do the strange trick myself and would only fall asleep
with sore eyes. As I would fall into my nap, I could hear the other kids giggling and talking about the strange girl who couldn't do the things that they did. I heard
them talk about the nasty girl, the ugly girl...the girl who never talked to them.
One day I asked the cafeteria lady what was in the cup she gave me for breakfast and she told me that it was urine. She thought it was funny to tell me that and she
laughed and laughed as I made a horrible face. I ran to the bathroom and puked because what she said made me sick. I never liked her after that. When the staff started
to take all the children to the dentist for a check up, I refused to drink my milk and would not eat the crackers because the cafeteria lady went with us and she smiled
every time our teacher passed out our snacks.
Once, I peed on myself on the school bus. I don't remember why but I remember the laughter and my horror. I realized that I didn't like school very much. Everyday at
recess, I would hide underneath the steps that led outside the trailer our classroom was in. I would play pretend and imagine that I was powerful. Death, he sat there
with me everyday and told secrets about the other children. I laughed and laughed.
Daddy wanted a son who followed him and done the things that he did. He got that with my older brother; But then he also got a girl who wanted to be a boy and do those
things just as well.
I was made to love the soft and hard of life, so to speak. I wanted to hunt and shoot guns, I wanted to build things as my father did. One day daddy let me shoot his 22 pistol, it hurt my ears but I loved
it and was fascinated my the feel of it, the power I held. Although most people know that 22s only hold enough power to piss you off when using them. It was a small
amount of power and but was interesting. I wanted the control I felt through the steel and found it tantalizing. But Somehow I failed miserably. When confronted with monsters that wanted more control than I desired myself, I was both mezmerized and humbled. Again, I was back inside the small body of a female child.
My family was a fragment of a small tribe. Strong in their disfunction. Proud in their secrets. We were sophisticated animals of a sort. It was grueling, our survival.
We made life and we made death simultaneously to sustain, my family and I did so. We were almost self-sufficient in this.
Every year, there was a garden which provided our vegetables and fruits. There was bean,green,tomato,squash,cucumber,corn,onion and various other veggies. There were
melons as well. I remember the work, the toiling all the way to harvest time and how determined my father was to make us work for our food. The dirt, I remember the
smell of fresh damp earth underneath my fingertips. I loved to lay down in the tilled earth and feel it surround me. I did this until my father yelled for me to get
back to work.
Every year we filled our freezers and bellies with game from the forest behind our house and many other wooded areas near where we lived. We milked cows and goats and
got pork from my aunt's small farm up the little dirt road. We made kraut and butter in churns, we fished lakes and rivers for Catfish, bass and brim. There wasn't much
we could not provide for ourselves. Daddy killed deer, squirrel, rabit, racoon and possum then mother would help clean and prepare the game for our meals and to store
for winter. I remember blood....so much blood and parts of various animals. And for some reason, the white freezer paper sticks in my memories as some reminder of the
pristine compartment for our grisley gift wrappings. And I can remember the freezer...huge and monstrous with various dead animals cut into a creative array of portions
waiting for that fateful day when we would consume them. One day the big freezer came unplugged from the socket and all our meat went to ruin. My father was angry, my
mother cried and the stench was horrible. So we started over.
1980
I started kindergarten at the age of 5 and for some reason also attended through the age of 6. I have a faint memory of things that transpired at the school. I know
that I felt different from the other children, I felt alone...surrounded by a bubble in which I had a small world of my own. I watched the other children play together
and laugh. At nap time I would lie awake and watch two boys practice turning their eyelids inside out. I tried to do the strange trick myself and would only fall asleep
with sore eyes. As I would fall into my nap, I could hear the other kids giggling and talking about the strange girl who couldn't do the things that they did. I heard
them talk about the nasty girl, the ugly girl...the girl who never talked to them.
One day I asked the cafeteria lady what was in the cup she gave me for breakfast and she told me that it was urine. She thought it was funny to tell me that and she
laughed and laughed as I made a horrible face. I ran to the bathroom and puked because what she said made me sick. I never liked her after that. When the staff started
to take all the children to the dentist for a check up, I refused to drink my milk and would not eat the crackers because the cafeteria lady went with us and she smiled
every time our teacher passed out our snacks.
Once, I peed on myself on the school bus. I don't remember why but I remember the laughter and my horror. I realized that I didn't like school very much. Everyday at
recess, I would hide underneath the steps that led outside the trailer our classroom was in. I would play pretend and imagine that I was powerful. Death, he sat there
with me everyday and told secrets about the other children. I laughed and laughed.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
9
If I was to say that I remember everything at any given time, then I would be a liar. There are parts of me that crave to remember while other parts beg to forget. I
can understand each sensation of loss and gain filter throughout my body, every day. I reach for reasons for the darkness and the sadness but find so very few floating
on the surface. I dig deeper to find the reasons for my mania and find a mental disorder waiting there for me. A broken thing which churns out putrid bats, spiders and
worms. I cringe at the thought of losing myself inside that convoluting machine.
1980
The fog had shifted a bit allowing in memories so heinous and ugly that I rather forget. But it won't let me, he won't let me forget. Death was hiding behind the trees
in the backyard one day and he introduced himself to me.
I loved to play in the backyard at an old sink that my father used to clean animals that he killed while hunting. I would collect old antique bottles that I found
around my grandmother's house and I would fill them with mixtures of water and mud. I found so many colorful bottles of blue, green and black that were almost in
pristine condition. I oft times stole into the old shed in the backyard and pull out beautiful old liquir bottles and claimed them as well. I would fill them full of
liquid dirt and leaves and label them as my poison bottles. Whenever I was alone I gave poison to my dolls and then watched them die. One by one, I would scold them and
lay them down beneathe the big peacan tree and then I would walk onto the trail and hide there till mom called me for dinner.
I loved this game and he did too. I saw him hiding one day just past the bend in the trail behind the old sink. At first I thought he was Cami's brother but he
disappeared like he was dust evaporating in the sun. My heart was thundering in my chest and wanting to jump out, running ahead of me. But I watched as each and every
particle evaporated; death, my new friend, was gone. But he wouldn't be able to stay away.
the summer
Cami was mean to me. I do not know if she practiced her cruelty or if she just had a sudden urge to torture others. I was her pet and I did whatever she asked of me
because I was scared of what she might do to me. I remember when we played dolls and she had to have what she wanted. I had to dress them in the ways that she wished, I
had to name them as she wanted and I was at her beckoning on everything. I Felt the need at first to obey Cami, wanting so badly to please her and make her like me
more. Her brother was mean to both of us as well, always trying to hold her down and do bad unbrotherly things to her. ONe time he started to touch me but moma came in
the room. I think he was afraid of my mother, she always had some herb or animal part in her hand when she scolded us.
Cami told me that she and her brother would do things that they weren't supposed to and that I should never tell her grandmother about it. She said her brother touched
her privates. Whenever she would start talking, I would drift away and think of death. I wondered if death liked to watch George touching me. I wondered if death was
kind. I didn't know he was death then, but I do know now. I know that death has always been with me since my first breath. I know that when I inhaled, fresh from my
mother's womb, that death captured that breath and recorded who I was.
1980
Daddy loved to tickle me. He would hold me down and count my ribs until I screamed. Me and daddy would lay across his bed and play silly games for hours. He had this
one game he loved to play where he could stick out his tongue and only when I would pull his chin, would he put his tongue back into his mouth. Then If I pulled his
cheek he would stick out his tongue again, but to the side I was pulling. If i pulled the other cheek he would switch his tongue to that side as well. If I pulled his
nose, he would close his eyes. It was a game that made me giggle so hard, my tummy would hurt.
One day, it was different. Daddy was playing his games with me when suddenly he grabbed my tummy a little too low. I think it was an accident but I punched him in his
face. IN return he punched me back. I was only 6 years old.
can understand each sensation of loss and gain filter throughout my body, every day. I reach for reasons for the darkness and the sadness but find so very few floating
on the surface. I dig deeper to find the reasons for my mania and find a mental disorder waiting there for me. A broken thing which churns out putrid bats, spiders and
worms. I cringe at the thought of losing myself inside that convoluting machine.
1980
The fog had shifted a bit allowing in memories so heinous and ugly that I rather forget. But it won't let me, he won't let me forget. Death was hiding behind the trees
in the backyard one day and he introduced himself to me.
I loved to play in the backyard at an old sink that my father used to clean animals that he killed while hunting. I would collect old antique bottles that I found
around my grandmother's house and I would fill them with mixtures of water and mud. I found so many colorful bottles of blue, green and black that were almost in
pristine condition. I oft times stole into the old shed in the backyard and pull out beautiful old liquir bottles and claimed them as well. I would fill them full of
liquid dirt and leaves and label them as my poison bottles. Whenever I was alone I gave poison to my dolls and then watched them die. One by one, I would scold them and
lay them down beneathe the big peacan tree and then I would walk onto the trail and hide there till mom called me for dinner.
I loved this game and he did too. I saw him hiding one day just past the bend in the trail behind the old sink. At first I thought he was Cami's brother but he
disappeared like he was dust evaporating in the sun. My heart was thundering in my chest and wanting to jump out, running ahead of me. But I watched as each and every
particle evaporated; death, my new friend, was gone. But he wouldn't be able to stay away.
the summer
Cami was mean to me. I do not know if she practiced her cruelty or if she just had a sudden urge to torture others. I was her pet and I did whatever she asked of me
because I was scared of what she might do to me. I remember when we played dolls and she had to have what she wanted. I had to dress them in the ways that she wished, I
had to name them as she wanted and I was at her beckoning on everything. I Felt the need at first to obey Cami, wanting so badly to please her and make her like me
more. Her brother was mean to both of us as well, always trying to hold her down and do bad unbrotherly things to her. ONe time he started to touch me but moma came in
the room. I think he was afraid of my mother, she always had some herb or animal part in her hand when she scolded us.
Cami told me that she and her brother would do things that they weren't supposed to and that I should never tell her grandmother about it. She said her brother touched
her privates. Whenever she would start talking, I would drift away and think of death. I wondered if death liked to watch George touching me. I wondered if death was
kind. I didn't know he was death then, but I do know now. I know that death has always been with me since my first breath. I know that when I inhaled, fresh from my
mother's womb, that death captured that breath and recorded who I was.
1980
Daddy loved to tickle me. He would hold me down and count my ribs until I screamed. Me and daddy would lay across his bed and play silly games for hours. He had this
one game he loved to play where he could stick out his tongue and only when I would pull his chin, would he put his tongue back into his mouth. Then If I pulled his
cheek he would stick out his tongue again, but to the side I was pulling. If i pulled the other cheek he would switch his tongue to that side as well. If I pulled his
nose, he would close his eyes. It was a game that made me giggle so hard, my tummy would hurt.
One day, it was different. Daddy was playing his games with me when suddenly he grabbed my tummy a little too low. I think it was an accident but I punched him in his
face. IN return he punched me back. I was only 6 years old.
Monday, November 5, 2012
8
I do not remember exactly in which the events of my early life took place. I can guess somewhat by the nightmares, how things happened to me.
I do, in fact, know that he started touching me when I was around 4 years old. The memory from 4 is scattered and fragmented but it retains significant events that the adult can remember.
The physical feelings that arose within me was not that of a normal child of my age. I felt physical pleasure and arousal at an early age of 4 years old.
The first event that can be remembered was the time that George spent the night with me and my brother Allen. It seemed innocent enough. I do not recall my brother sleeping with us and the foot of my parent's bed but I remembered George smiling and how I begged mom and dad to let us sleep in the floor. I remember lying there next to him but do not remember him touching me at that time, not yet.
One night while everyone was asleep, I used a pair of children's scissors to arouse myself. I noticed how it felt like electricity was passing throught the metal scissors and onto my flesh. I was so very young to feel this sensation. I remember that it felt curiously irritating and good at the same time.
Not long after this incident, George started to touch me. I think he was between the age of 16 and 18 years old.
A breif desription of myself as a child.
I was a cute child, maybe even beautiful. At birth, my hair had been coal black and my eyes almost the same depth. I was pale because of frequent sicknesses. As I grew older my hair lightened into a light auburn hue. My hair grew long and wavy down my back. I had a very cute smile which seemed to light up my face. At times in photographs though, it was obvious that some dark thing was already taking residence.
The store
My dad owned a store that he built from the ground up. I used to love to play around the store build things in the dirt. I remember building frog holes and little dirt houses. I even loved to make mud pies and harden them in the opening in the Coke machines. I played with bugs and spiders and ate many unedible things growing around the store building. I loved to be around my father and he doted on me. I remember his pleasantness at an early age.
There are so many things about the store that I remember. Especially how the customers rarely paid him. My father was always so good to others, sometimes better to them than his family. I know it is mean to say this but it is true. He often let them pay by way of credit and has credit booklets to keep up with it. But, most of the time, they never paid him. We lived on a hill surrounded by cousins and aunts and such and they didn't think that relatives should pay for anything from another relative. I think they just signed the credit booklet to humor my dad.
I remember that me, Allen and George used to play inside the store. You see, George and Allen were friends and I don't think my brother knew that George touched me.
I do, in fact, know that he started touching me when I was around 4 years old. The memory from 4 is scattered and fragmented but it retains significant events that the adult can remember.
The physical feelings that arose within me was not that of a normal child of my age. I felt physical pleasure and arousal at an early age of 4 years old.
The first event that can be remembered was the time that George spent the night with me and my brother Allen. It seemed innocent enough. I do not recall my brother sleeping with us and the foot of my parent's bed but I remembered George smiling and how I begged mom and dad to let us sleep in the floor. I remember lying there next to him but do not remember him touching me at that time, not yet.
One night while everyone was asleep, I used a pair of children's scissors to arouse myself. I noticed how it felt like electricity was passing throught the metal scissors and onto my flesh. I was so very young to feel this sensation. I remember that it felt curiously irritating and good at the same time.
Not long after this incident, George started to touch me. I think he was between the age of 16 and 18 years old.
A breif desription of myself as a child.
I was a cute child, maybe even beautiful. At birth, my hair had been coal black and my eyes almost the same depth. I was pale because of frequent sicknesses. As I grew older my hair lightened into a light auburn hue. My hair grew long and wavy down my back. I had a very cute smile which seemed to light up my face. At times in photographs though, it was obvious that some dark thing was already taking residence.
The store
My dad owned a store that he built from the ground up. I used to love to play around the store build things in the dirt. I remember building frog holes and little dirt houses. I even loved to make mud pies and harden them in the opening in the Coke machines. I played with bugs and spiders and ate many unedible things growing around the store building. I loved to be around my father and he doted on me. I remember his pleasantness at an early age.
There are so many things about the store that I remember. Especially how the customers rarely paid him. My father was always so good to others, sometimes better to them than his family. I know it is mean to say this but it is true. He often let them pay by way of credit and has credit booklets to keep up with it. But, most of the time, they never paid him. We lived on a hill surrounded by cousins and aunts and such and they didn't think that relatives should pay for anything from another relative. I think they just signed the credit booklet to humor my dad.
I remember that me, Allen and George used to play inside the store. You see, George and Allen were friends and I don't think my brother knew that George touched me.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
7
1978
I remember the trailer that we lived in; my brother, mother, father and me. It was a single wide deal behind my grandmother's house. We had puppies and dogs and cats which ran round our trailer and played. One thing that sticks in my mind is walking from my grandmother's house back to the trailer with a plate of green sweet peas. As a very young girl, I loved sweet peas. I remember that mother was hanging out sheets on the clothes line as I walked back to the trailer to eat. Our trailer was very old and falling apart. I cannot even remember my room. So, at some point we got rid of the trailer and moved into the house with my grandmother; and there I was raised.
My cousin George always came to my grandmother's house to play with my brother Allen and to eat whatever my grandmother cooked. At first he only smiled at me and tickled me every once in a while. It didn't take him long to start picking me up and carrying me around like a toy. I just remember somewhere along the way, when I was just about 4 or 5 years old, he took a special liking to me. He was thin, tall and wore coke bottle thick glasses. He dipped skoal and had short black hair. I don't think I could ever forget what he looks like.
After my father built his store we would play there. Me, my brother and George would eat bologna sandwiches from the big stick of bologna that my father had to make sandwiches for the customers. We would play hide and seek and go outside to play war. One day George took me in the bathroom and locked us in. He said he wanted to show me something. He unzipped his pants and showed his penis to me for the first time. I was horrified and started to scream. It looked like a big worm to me so I ran out of the bathroom. I will never forget the look of confusion on my brother's face when he seen me running from the bathroom screaming. I do not know what he said to George or did to him but I ran outside and up to my grandmother's house. It was a while before he actually did anything to me with his giant worm. Unfortunately, he did.
Most might think that there is nothing wrong with what he did seeing that we all played together, but it was. You see, he was mentally handicapped but he was around 18 years old and I was only 4 or 5. He was almost an adult.
My father and mother both worked factory jobs during the day and my grandmother took care of me. She saw nothing wrong with George visiting every day and playing with me in my room. Every day he touched me and tried to penetrate me. Sometimes he would succeed. He would never say a word. He would just sit beside me as I played with my dolls and slowly move his hand toward me. He would touch my dress, or my pants then he would move toward my private area. I scoot closer to him and let him touch me. One day he bent close to my ear and whispered ot me. "Do not tell anybody or I will hurt you." I believed him too.
I remember the trailer that we lived in; my brother, mother, father and me. It was a single wide deal behind my grandmother's house. We had puppies and dogs and cats which ran round our trailer and played. One thing that sticks in my mind is walking from my grandmother's house back to the trailer with a plate of green sweet peas. As a very young girl, I loved sweet peas. I remember that mother was hanging out sheets on the clothes line as I walked back to the trailer to eat. Our trailer was very old and falling apart. I cannot even remember my room. So, at some point we got rid of the trailer and moved into the house with my grandmother; and there I was raised.
My cousin George always came to my grandmother's house to play with my brother Allen and to eat whatever my grandmother cooked. At first he only smiled at me and tickled me every once in a while. It didn't take him long to start picking me up and carrying me around like a toy. I just remember somewhere along the way, when I was just about 4 or 5 years old, he took a special liking to me. He was thin, tall and wore coke bottle thick glasses. He dipped skoal and had short black hair. I don't think I could ever forget what he looks like.
After my father built his store we would play there. Me, my brother and George would eat bologna sandwiches from the big stick of bologna that my father had to make sandwiches for the customers. We would play hide and seek and go outside to play war. One day George took me in the bathroom and locked us in. He said he wanted to show me something. He unzipped his pants and showed his penis to me for the first time. I was horrified and started to scream. It looked like a big worm to me so I ran out of the bathroom. I will never forget the look of confusion on my brother's face when he seen me running from the bathroom screaming. I do not know what he said to George or did to him but I ran outside and up to my grandmother's house. It was a while before he actually did anything to me with his giant worm. Unfortunately, he did.
Most might think that there is nothing wrong with what he did seeing that we all played together, but it was. You see, he was mentally handicapped but he was around 18 years old and I was only 4 or 5. He was almost an adult.
My father and mother both worked factory jobs during the day and my grandmother took care of me. She saw nothing wrong with George visiting every day and playing with me in my room. Every day he touched me and tried to penetrate me. Sometimes he would succeed. He would never say a word. He would just sit beside me as I played with my dolls and slowly move his hand toward me. He would touch my dress, or my pants then he would move toward my private area. I scoot closer to him and let him touch me. One day he bent close to my ear and whispered ot me. "Do not tell anybody or I will hurt you." I believed him too.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
6
Sometime in the late seventies
I remember my sister's visits. The days she would come and go, bringing her baby daughter with her. My little neice was not so much smaller than I was at the time. Babies held no real fascination for me either. I just vaguely remember my sister and her child Paulina. OH, I grew to love Paulina much later but then I didn't really know love. My sister was still so young and full of life. Her black hair fell far down her back in bone straight strands. I loved to watch it sway when she walked. She always kept it in ponytails and I imaged swinging from its shiney brilliance. MOm's hair was similar to my sister's strands. I would look down at my wavy red hair and frown. I would wonder why I was caught between my mother and father; a mixture of colors and textures. I didn't know, at the time, that my sister had a different father.
My father was good friends with a man named O.V. and they loved to go fishing together. I have fond memories of laughter and fish frys and of being doted upon by O.V.'s wife. They were an African American couple and it matters not to me but apparently, it did to everyone else in the small town of Ashland Ms. I asked my father why they never stayed the night with us when sometimes it was so late when they left. I will never forget his words in his reply. "They can't stay, blacks don't sleep over with whites."
My aunt spoiled me when she got the chance. When I was very small she lived in Nashville Tn. She would bring soveniers and toys when she came to visit. I remember one time I hid in her car when she was leaving. She got to the edge of town and realized that I was in the back set. She called my mom and, when verifying that it was alright, took me to Nashvill with her for a couple weeks. There, she spoiled me even more. I learned that she worked for the telephone company, AT&T. I met her friends that worked with her and her neighbor. I remember two names even now as an adult. I remember Dot and Ms. Armstrong. I would hold my arm up and make a muscle when my aunt said her name. Then I would giggle.
I loved to go to my aunts house. No one touched me there.
But life was not all light and all smiles. NO, even then when life was at its purest, life was not all it seemed to be.
I was young and fresh and almost untainted. It was a canvas of flowers; pink ones. They were soft and they billowed in the breeze. I ran through this feild of flowers in my little dress with the bells sewn in the hem. My little patent leather shoes would carry me far far from home into the beautiful natural heaven of flowers and birds and frogs...and things like that. I little white ruffled socks would make me even prettier as would the bows in my long auburn hair. My black eyes would twinkle with soft innocent wonder.
Something spilled upon the canvas, dark ink. It spreads quietly and furiously dragging through the swaying grasses eating the flowers whole in its disease. It crept and pulled the light into its gaping maw of darkness. It devoured the beautiful innocence. But it is slow...no being that which eats in rage or starving hunger but something much much worse than that. It is slow death not even born yet. It is clowing sweet nectar not yet soured and rotten. It touched the hem of my dress and I gasped. And it started.
I started to like what was happening to me. I thought it was okay. I thought it felt good and that someone really special loved me. I took the hand and guided it to where it was supposed to be. I helped him to taint me. I became friends with death at an early age. Much too early to really comprehend what it meant for me.
I remember my sister's visits. The days she would come and go, bringing her baby daughter with her. My little neice was not so much smaller than I was at the time. Babies held no real fascination for me either. I just vaguely remember my sister and her child Paulina. OH, I grew to love Paulina much later but then I didn't really know love. My sister was still so young and full of life. Her black hair fell far down her back in bone straight strands. I loved to watch it sway when she walked. She always kept it in ponytails and I imaged swinging from its shiney brilliance. MOm's hair was similar to my sister's strands. I would look down at my wavy red hair and frown. I would wonder why I was caught between my mother and father; a mixture of colors and textures. I didn't know, at the time, that my sister had a different father.
My father was good friends with a man named O.V. and they loved to go fishing together. I have fond memories of laughter and fish frys and of being doted upon by O.V.'s wife. They were an African American couple and it matters not to me but apparently, it did to everyone else in the small town of Ashland Ms. I asked my father why they never stayed the night with us when sometimes it was so late when they left. I will never forget his words in his reply. "They can't stay, blacks don't sleep over with whites."
My aunt spoiled me when she got the chance. When I was very small she lived in Nashville Tn. She would bring soveniers and toys when she came to visit. I remember one time I hid in her car when she was leaving. She got to the edge of town and realized that I was in the back set. She called my mom and, when verifying that it was alright, took me to Nashvill with her for a couple weeks. There, she spoiled me even more. I learned that she worked for the telephone company, AT&T. I met her friends that worked with her and her neighbor. I remember two names even now as an adult. I remember Dot and Ms. Armstrong. I would hold my arm up and make a muscle when my aunt said her name. Then I would giggle.
I loved to go to my aunts house. No one touched me there.
But life was not all light and all smiles. NO, even then when life was at its purest, life was not all it seemed to be.
I was young and fresh and almost untainted. It was a canvas of flowers; pink ones. They were soft and they billowed in the breeze. I ran through this feild of flowers in my little dress with the bells sewn in the hem. My little patent leather shoes would carry me far far from home into the beautiful natural heaven of flowers and birds and frogs...and things like that. I little white ruffled socks would make me even prettier as would the bows in my long auburn hair. My black eyes would twinkle with soft innocent wonder.
Something spilled upon the canvas, dark ink. It spreads quietly and furiously dragging through the swaying grasses eating the flowers whole in its disease. It crept and pulled the light into its gaping maw of darkness. It devoured the beautiful innocence. But it is slow...no being that which eats in rage or starving hunger but something much much worse than that. It is slow death not even born yet. It is clowing sweet nectar not yet soured and rotten. It touched the hem of my dress and I gasped. And it started.
I started to like what was happening to me. I thought it was okay. I thought it felt good and that someone really special loved me. I took the hand and guided it to where it was supposed to be. I helped him to taint me. I became friends with death at an early age. Much too early to really comprehend what it meant for me.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
5
I do not remember exactly in which the events of my early life took place. I can guess somewhat by the nightmares, how things happened to me.
I do, in fact, know that he started touching me when I was around 4 years old. The memory from 4 is scattered and fragmented but it retains significant events that the adult can remember.
The physical feelings that arose within me was not that of a normal child of my age. I felt physical pleasure and arousal at an early age of 4 years old.
The first event that can be remembered was the time that George spent the night with me and my brother Allen. It seemed innocent enough. I do not recall my brother sleeping with us and the foot of my parent's bed but I remembered George smiling and how I begged mom and dad to let us sleep in the floor. I remember lying there next to him but do not remember him touching me at that time, not yet.
One night while everyone was asleep, I used a pair of children's scissors to arouse myself. I noticed how it felt like electricity was passing throught the metal scissors and onto my flesh. I was so very young to feel this sensation. I remember that it felt curiously irritating and good at the same time.
Not long after this incident, George started to touch me. I think he was between the age of 16 and 18 years old.
A brief desription of myself as a child.
I was a cute child, maybe even beautiful. At birth, my hair had been coal black and my eyes almost the same depth. I was pale because of frequent sicknesses. As I grew older my hair lightened into a light auburn hue. My hair grew long and wavy down my back. I had a very cute smile which seemed to light up my face. At times in photographs though, it was obvious that some dark thing was already taking residence.
The store
My dad owned a store that he built from the ground up. I used to love to play around the store build things in the dirt. I remember building frog holes and little dirt houses. I even loved to make mud pies and harden them in the opening in the Coke machines. I played with bugs and spiders and ate many unedible things growing around the store building. I loved to be around my father and he doted on me. I remember his pleasantness at an early age.
There are so many things about the store that I remember. Especially how the customers rarely paid him. My father was always so good to others, sometimes better to them than his family. I know it is mean to say this but it is true. He often let them pay by way of credit and has credit booklets to keep up with it. But, most of the time, they never paid him. We lived on a hill surrounded by cousins and aunts and such and they didn't think that relatives should pay for anything from another relative. I think they just signed the credit booklet to humor my dad.
I remember that me, Allen and George used to play inside the store. You see, George and Allen were friends and I don't think my brother knew that George touched me.
I do, in fact, know that he started touching me when I was around 4 years old. The memory from 4 is scattered and fragmented but it retains significant events that the adult can remember.
The physical feelings that arose within me was not that of a normal child of my age. I felt physical pleasure and arousal at an early age of 4 years old.
The first event that can be remembered was the time that George spent the night with me and my brother Allen. It seemed innocent enough. I do not recall my brother sleeping with us and the foot of my parent's bed but I remembered George smiling and how I begged mom and dad to let us sleep in the floor. I remember lying there next to him but do not remember him touching me at that time, not yet.
One night while everyone was asleep, I used a pair of children's scissors to arouse myself. I noticed how it felt like electricity was passing throught the metal scissors and onto my flesh. I was so very young to feel this sensation. I remember that it felt curiously irritating and good at the same time.
Not long after this incident, George started to touch me. I think he was between the age of 16 and 18 years old.
A brief desription of myself as a child.
I was a cute child, maybe even beautiful. At birth, my hair had been coal black and my eyes almost the same depth. I was pale because of frequent sicknesses. As I grew older my hair lightened into a light auburn hue. My hair grew long and wavy down my back. I had a very cute smile which seemed to light up my face. At times in photographs though, it was obvious that some dark thing was already taking residence.
The store
My dad owned a store that he built from the ground up. I used to love to play around the store build things in the dirt. I remember building frog holes and little dirt houses. I even loved to make mud pies and harden them in the opening in the Coke machines. I played with bugs and spiders and ate many unedible things growing around the store building. I loved to be around my father and he doted on me. I remember his pleasantness at an early age.
There are so many things about the store that I remember. Especially how the customers rarely paid him. My father was always so good to others, sometimes better to them than his family. I know it is mean to say this but it is true. He often let them pay by way of credit and has credit booklets to keep up with it. But, most of the time, they never paid him. We lived on a hill surrounded by cousins and aunts and such and they didn't think that relatives should pay for anything from another relative. I think they just signed the credit booklet to humor my dad.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
4
I recall my daddy holding me in his arms. I remember seeing the store building and how it was built up from the red clay dirt. And I remember how proud my father was at what he had built. With very little help, he built the whole building and I knew he had lots of pride invested in his creation.
I remember finding a butterfly that had a broken wing but it was still alive. I carried it with me in my hand as I walked down the hill to where my father was preparing the cylinder blocks for the store. He was laying the foundation. I remember walking around the area looking at everything and my father watched me making sure that I did not get hurt. I felt bad for the wounded butterfly so I placed it inside a hole in one of the cylinder blocks. I thought it would be safe here and it would heal itself. I went and played elsewhere and forgot about the butterfly.
I remember some time later, I noticed that my father had completed the floor of the building. I remembered that the butterfly was in the cylinder block and I immediately panicked. I ran to daddy and told him about the butterfly and said that we had to go and get it out of the block. It was too late, the floor had been built over the butterfly and surely it would die. I cried for the butterfly.
I remember eating dandelions by the back porch steps while momma washed dishes. I remembered that they did not taste very good.
I vaguely remember all the dirt that I played in when they reconstucted the road in front of the house.
I remember kindergarten and how a lunchlady actually told me that apple juice was urine and I got sick and went to the bathroom.
I remember pictures of purple dinasaurs, maps and tunnels underneath the trailer that was used for the headstart building.
I remember one time I had a doctor's appointment and afterwards, my daddy took me to the store and bought me a tea set. It was complete with tea pot, saucers, cups and eating utencils. Then he took me to headstart and told me to be good at school and that I could get my tea set when I got home. That was a happy time in my life.
I remember having a swing set
I remember my cousins Karen, Sharon and Frieda playing with me when I was very very young. They were nice then....well except for the time that Freida thought it would be funny to break the leg off my barbie just to watch me cry. That was mean.
Why is early life made up of so many fragments? It seems to be as if something was broken that we desperately try to put back together with so many missing parts. The above scenaries are parts that I have trouble filling in the gaps with and they fall as they have fallen in my memory...broken and unbalanced, even sometimes placed out of order in the time machine of my mind.
I remember finding a butterfly that had a broken wing but it was still alive. I carried it with me in my hand as I walked down the hill to where my father was preparing the cylinder blocks for the store. He was laying the foundation. I remember walking around the area looking at everything and my father watched me making sure that I did not get hurt. I felt bad for the wounded butterfly so I placed it inside a hole in one of the cylinder blocks. I thought it would be safe here and it would heal itself. I went and played elsewhere and forgot about the butterfly.
I remember some time later, I noticed that my father had completed the floor of the building. I remembered that the butterfly was in the cylinder block and I immediately panicked. I ran to daddy and told him about the butterfly and said that we had to go and get it out of the block. It was too late, the floor had been built over the butterfly and surely it would die. I cried for the butterfly.
I remember eating dandelions by the back porch steps while momma washed dishes. I remembered that they did not taste very good.
I vaguely remember all the dirt that I played in when they reconstucted the road in front of the house.
I remember kindergarten and how a lunchlady actually told me that apple juice was urine and I got sick and went to the bathroom.
I remember pictures of purple dinasaurs, maps and tunnels underneath the trailer that was used for the headstart building.
I remember one time I had a doctor's appointment and afterwards, my daddy took me to the store and bought me a tea set. It was complete with tea pot, saucers, cups and eating utencils. Then he took me to headstart and told me to be good at school and that I could get my tea set when I got home. That was a happy time in my life.
I remember having a swing set
I remember my cousins Karen, Sharon and Frieda playing with me when I was very very young. They were nice then....well except for the time that Freida thought it would be funny to break the leg off my barbie just to watch me cry. That was mean.
Why is early life made up of so many fragments? It seems to be as if something was broken that we desperately try to put back together with so many missing parts. The above scenaries are parts that I have trouble filling in the gaps with and they fall as they have fallen in my memory...broken and unbalanced, even sometimes placed out of order in the time machine of my mind.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
3
1974
The year of my birth. At this point in time there is little to remember. November of 1974, late in the year at that. The only clear memory that I have is of screaming.
A man, not unike Kasey Kasem was standing above me with dark sunglasses on. I remember his hair being almost black and his skin very dark. Not dark as in African American or from India, but dark. He wore a light colored jacket. I remember his smile which slowly spread across his face as he reached down for me. Then I remember screaming, screaming so very loud and high pitched. I suppose he frightened me. That man was my grandfather. The first and last memory that I have of him.
Many things occured in 1974. This was the year of the Watergate Scandal, the year that the Rubix Cube was invented and also the year that 'Lucy' was discovered by anthropologists. As it seems it was also the year that Haile SAlasie was deposed by the Derg.
Of course I was oblivious to it all. I entered the light called the real world then cooed into the year 1975. While the world was changing around me, I was comfortable in ignorance...and innocence.
While October 31 was Halloween and November 1st, Day of the Innocents, was the first day of the dead, El dia de los Muertes. November 2nd, All souls day and second day in the Day of the Dead and that leaves my birthday..NOvember 3...One day after the Coronation of Haile Salasie, which was also on November second.
November 3rd of 1974 seems to be quite uneventful except for my birth. The higher powers must have known a great secret that I did not. Maybe my birth took too much energy from the cosmos, because my mom almost bled to death and I almost died from some sickness no one elaborates on. Guess it was just an exagerated story of the common cold which struck an infant.
Most things are exaggerated when tales are told, but one thing is for sure...I was born, born in 1974 to Ester and James and an older brother named Allen and a much older sister named Joyce, who would marry soon after my birth and move out.
The year of my birth. At this point in time there is little to remember. November of 1974, late in the year at that. The only clear memory that I have is of screaming.
A man, not unike Kasey Kasem was standing above me with dark sunglasses on. I remember his hair being almost black and his skin very dark. Not dark as in African American or from India, but dark. He wore a light colored jacket. I remember his smile which slowly spread across his face as he reached down for me. Then I remember screaming, screaming so very loud and high pitched. I suppose he frightened me. That man was my grandfather. The first and last memory that I have of him.
Many things occured in 1974. This was the year of the Watergate Scandal, the year that the Rubix Cube was invented and also the year that 'Lucy' was discovered by anthropologists. As it seems it was also the year that Haile SAlasie was deposed by the Derg.
Of course I was oblivious to it all. I entered the light called the real world then cooed into the year 1975. While the world was changing around me, I was comfortable in ignorance...and innocence.
While October 31 was Halloween and November 1st, Day of the Innocents, was the first day of the dead, El dia de los Muertes. November 2nd, All souls day and second day in the Day of the Dead and that leaves my birthday..NOvember 3...One day after the Coronation of Haile Salasie, which was also on November second.
November 3rd of 1974 seems to be quite uneventful except for my birth. The higher powers must have known a great secret that I did not. Maybe my birth took too much energy from the cosmos, because my mom almost bled to death and I almost died from some sickness no one elaborates on. Guess it was just an exagerated story of the common cold which struck an infant.
Most things are exaggerated when tales are told, but one thing is for sure...I was born, born in 1974 to Ester and James and an older brother named Allen and a much older sister named Joyce, who would marry soon after my birth and move out.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
2
1974
Within the darkest places of your host, the one who birthed you, is a place of secret things which give to you your soul. A water world which bends and shapes the limbs in which you reach, a warm place where you, the parasite learn to be human.
Within the darkest places of your host, the one who birthed you, is a place of secret things which give to you your soul. A water world which bends and shapes the limbs in which you reach, a warm place where you, the parasite learn to be human.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
1
So much is blurred between then and now, it seems. I know that I fell in love periodically with different boys and different girls. The girls never responded but the boys did. I was still protective of my virginity and would only go so far, thus ending the lust and infatuation.
I remember seeing one redhead that resemble Archie from the comic book and several black guys, one who wanted badly to be Prince. Nothing went very far because of my virtues with sexuality. I was so frightened of my father and scared as well of the boys. I had a sense of wanting to keep control of my body and was afraid of lending it out, so to speak.
Of course I would make out and get felt up, that was no problem, it was just something about crossing a boundary which to think of it now kind of puts me in the mind of losing your sanity. It seems that the loss of virginity is akin to the blurring and the loss of that line which takes away control. Of course I overthink and thought most things in that manner.
The one I liked the most was a guy named Timmy, even though his requirements to love was very degrading and hurtful. But how many choices did I have considering I was an unpopular virgin who was ...by the way, nuts.
Winter
1988
The night was always beautiful to me. I loved to leave the house and wander round. And the night was so much more, horrible and stark bare in its pure evil. I never really had a plan, I would just walk through the garden and talk to myself and to whoever had the urge to listen. Sometimes I might get scared but not very often. I found myself, at times, when fear would assault me, to stare defiantly into the darkness and threaten the unknown.
"Come on...I mean it, come on. What, exactly can you do? I want to know, show me. The pain you inflict can be nothing...nothing."
The rants were different from time to time when I would walk at night. But they revolved around an invitation, a strong will and rebelious fighting spirit. Inside I invited them to end my torment, whoever and whatever stalked the night. By the end of my rant, i found my face awash in tears and my lips quivering. I wanted to battle fear in the most horriying way. Not in strength of prayer, but to invite the thing which rambled and shambled on the edge of darkness to take a bite of me...and then to allow me to show it my sharp teeth as well.
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