Thursday, February 23, 2012

Writers Workshop...

Write about a time you hid from someone, or a time you disguised who you really were.

Inside my head I could hear my heart pounding as I held my breath... I thought for sure he could hear it too. I could see his feet walking through the upstairs guest room as I hid under the bed on my tummy. I was waiting for just the right time to slip out and run fast... as fast as my legs would carry me across the side yard and along the bean fields that boarded our 3 acres and the Country Club directly behind our land. Please don't let him hear me, my mind screamed. Finally his stale cigarette and Old Style breath was fading as I heard the master bathroom door open and close.

He was angry, and spitting out curse words as I slipped out from under that bed and creaked down the stairs, slipped out the back door and ran. I ran down the 19 stone steps built into the hill our home was built on. I hated that house... I called it the bad house.  Mom left me there in the middle of the country with my step father all alone. The abuse started 2 years before this memory in another home just a town away, before she married him. It wasn't long after they married that we moved to this huge 19 room farm house, with no neighbors or friends for me to play with in the area... SO I was captive to his every vile thought, desire, and need. It was in this house that my innocence was completely ripped away and healthy boundaries were blurred. That day I hid from the abuse and was able to keep his drunken eyes and hands off of me. I ran into this little grove under the bushes and seedlings and stayed there until my mom returned from work. I watched the big looming green house in the distance trying to stay awake all day long so I would be ready to run onto the golf course if he came out to look for me.

I remember how hard it was to open my mouth and whisper the words, "He touches me and makes me do things." What was worse was that after talking to her about it... she decided to stay. It was only after another family member heard me talk about it to a friend that she did anything about it. Years later I learned my mother was abused by her grand father and suddenly it all made sense. She didn't know how to protect her child because she wasn't protected. Back then they just didn't talk about those things. Lucky for me I have a big mouth...I talked about it, but it was not until my step father's death when I was 29 years old that I was freed from the night terrors that time in my childhood left me with.

3 sweet comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow - your writing is incredible. Thank you for sharing your very personal and intense story with us.

(Here from ICLW)

Kechara said...

Thank you for sharing your story. Your writing is beautiful even though the subject certainly isn't.


Anonymous said...

Here from ICLW. Thank you for sharing your story. Your writing is amazing.
And thank you for the workshop prompt - I have been wanting to write more, and you've inspired me to sit down and do so honestly.


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