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Glass BeadsAnonymous updated 1 year, 2 months ago 1 Member · 1 Post
AnonymousMemberJune 17, 2021 at 12:49 pm
To anyone who reads my fictional writings please don’t be surprised if you see curse words and explicit displays of violence. I am merely getting into character and do not want to offend. I will ,of
course, asterisk the curse words. But the content may center around violence to establish the feeling of terror for the protagonist. This is totally a fictional story and in no way is this to be considered real. I am not a professional writer. I am merely practicing to improve my writing skills. To display any emotion, there are extreme emotions. This story has been floating around in my head for a long, long time. I do not wish to publish, just play with it.
She sat at her desk writing in her journal as the warm gentle wind tugged on the strained window sheers that were gifted to her by her mother, when she first got married to Warner ten years ago. These older sheers were all her mother could afford to share with her daughter Victoria because even her mother’s secret cookie jar was not safe from her father who frequented the local bar. Although the seams are beginning to unravel, she could not bear to part with them because they reminded Victoria of her mother’s struggles and the sincere apologies with wet eyes for not having a better gift for her daughter on her wedding day. Dad was heard bellowing from the other room that day, “**mn! Helen, get off your **s and work if you are ashamed of what I give you.”
Screams of delight streamed in through the bedroom window to the small desk, where Victoria was writing in her journal. Beth’s screams suddenly brought Victoria back to the moment.
Beth called out, “Mommy, Mommy come quick! Mommy come see what Ka has founded – quickly Mommy before Ka loses it!”
Dropping the pen quickly from her hand, Victoria visualized a large hairy spider, a two-foot-long snake, or a mangy stray suddenly popped into Victoria’s mind as she rushed out of the front door to where the two children huddled up over an object on the ground.
Beth’s blonde curls plastered to her forehead with sweat as her short dumpy fingers reached down to clumsily wipe her muddy fingers onto her homemade pink butterfly shorts. Beth danced back and forth between her mother and Clay with excitement as her blue eyes twinkled while pointing toward her brother Clay.
“Look Mommy a fuzzy worm. We’ve named him Fuzzy,” as her stubby finger pointed.
Clay placed the confused creature up on his shoulder. The worm moved with small waves of fluff toward his chest. Clay announced in his new squeaky voice, “Look Mom, he’s mine ‘cuz he likes me!”
For some unknown reason, Clay recognized this caterpillar as warm and cuddly, while he on the other hand acknowledges earthworms as some grotesque creature that emerges from a dark underworld that he morbidly enjoys squashing and grinding into the dirt with his bare feet.
Beth grabbed her brother’s hand as she commanded, “let’s go find another one”, as they high-stepped through the tall grass looking for more vulnerable creatures on their mock safari. Victoria stood up stretching her back while looking around at their neglected lawn. The lawn mower quit running last summer and she knew nothing about how to fix it. Warren was always too preoccupied to take the time to fix it. When Victoria brought up the subject to Warren, he would just say, just find some high-school boy to mow it. Victoria told him there are no high school boys willing to mow, and that is when he begins his rendition of, “well when I was in high school, we always wanted to earn a few extra dollars, but kids today are lazy, not worth one’s salt, and they mooch off their parents until they are in their fifties, the saddest part is that the parents allow it.” Then that generally ends the conversation as the grass continues to grow.
The warm, wet temperature of early June slowly allowed the evening breeze to move slightly. The thin gingham dress that Victoria was wearing didn’t do much to absorb the sweat that trickled down the small of her back. The sweat caught in the high waisted band of her cotton panties that were what she called old granny panties. Tufts of hair felt wet upon her forehead, she was feeling a bit haggard as she recalled how not long ago, she would have never come near a pair of granny panties, never mind wear them but now they seemed practical.
The breeze was tinged with a soft delicate aroma from the honey locust tree that grew close to the 1948 cottage belonging to Mrs. Miller. Not much happened in the neighborhood that Mrs. Miller or any of the neighbors don’t see. When Warner and Victoria moved in to their small house, the realtor said the homes were built so close together during a time when families would get together for block parties, and they would have barbeques celebrating various events such as the Fourth of July. The sidewalks and intimate surroundings were a strong selling point after the war and many of the houses during that time of recovery after WWII were built with a sense of connection celebrating life. The Norman Rockwell charm impressed both Warren and Victoria. They both felt it was the best place to raise our children.
“Mommy, mommy!” Beth screamed jumping up and down. “Come see, I gots a nutter one.”
Another fuzzy caterpillar but a bit smaller in size and dark with what looked like fuzzy antennae.
“Heeya Mommy you keep dis un.” Beth reaches down grabbed the poor caterpillar by squeezing tight between her index finger and thumb as it twisted and turned within her tight pinch. Beth dropped the caterpillar and quickly interlocked both of her hands tightly together and held her fingers protectively under her chin while she stepped away from the caterpillar as tears rolled down her face, “it bites me Mommy.”
“Aww…honey it did not mean to, it just did not want to play right now. Let Mommy kiss the bite and make it feel better.”
Beth hesitated to release her hand to let her mother kiss the tips of her finger which Victoria took advantage of the opportunity to kiss all the way up Beth’s arm to her neck causing her to giggle.
Clay ran over to be a part of the tickling, as he discovered the same little caterpillar, “look Mom I will give it to you if you’d like it?”
“No, no baby, Mommy is terrified of bugs of any kind.”
The grass felt cool as Victoria knelt to get a closer look at the new prospect for the loving torture of chubby fingers. Dingy little fingers were busy reaching out toward the poor little worm when Warner tore into the drive-way, throwing gravel, barely stopping long enough to put the car into park as the car lurched forward into its final resting spot. Warner with his usual intensity and angry scowl storms into the house without so much a look or a smile in their direction, as Beth was pointing to her prized worm that she was wanting desperately to share with her father.
Warner suddenly reappeared standing in the doorway. He was yelling loud enough for the neighbors to hear as Victoria instinctively looked to Mrs. Miller’s just in time to see the curtains move.
Warner yelled from the back door while shaking his white dress shirt above his head, “HOW DARE YOU ***CH! YOU DID IT AGAIN! YOU HUNG MY DRESS SHIRT IN THE CLOSET WITHOUT HAVING IT DRY CLEANED AGAIN! I DON’T KNOW HOW I CAN GET YOU TO UNDERSTAND WHAT EVEN A ‘RETARD’ UNDERSTANDS AFTER BEING TOLD MORE THAN ONCE!”
Warner intensely burst across the lawn with sweat rings forming under his armpits on his tee-shirt. The blue vein on his forehead bulged and his non blinking eyes were set, while focused strictly upon Victoria as he sneered with his hand clinched tightly upon the dress shirt that extended toward her.
She fell backwards from her position on her knees and onto her butt anticipating what was about to come when she desperately attempted to crawl backwards to escape his wrath as his children huddled back away from his spewing words and anger.
Victoria’s huge pleading eyes looked into his pernicious eyes that were dilated, empty, and cold as an uncontrollable quiver went through her. Warner grabbed a hand full of Victoria’s hair pulling her head toward the dress shirt that he shoved in front of her face spewing the words, “DON’T FORGET, DON’T EVER FORGET,” as he suddenly released her hair, she fell back to the ground. He reared back and kicked her hip with such intensity her teeth snapped together catching the tip of her tongue as blood ran down her chin. Warren snapped, “YOU SEE WHAT YOU MAKE ME DO.” He warned her that if she ratted him out to anyone, he would see that she’d never get to see the kids ever again.
When Warren suddenly realized that he was drawing an audience, he established his point once again by saying,” don’t YOU EVER let it happen again! “
Grimacing, he bent down upon his knees whispered into Victoria’s ears, “Now see what you have made me do, Don’t EVER make me have to do this again, understand!” She laid on the ground rocking back and forth as he stood back up, turned, and walked away.
To be continued …
****My short story is meant to reveal the intense power of the cycle of abuse, and the conditioned force of will to survive. ***