PinkFairy
17-04-2005, 15:04
This is something ramdom I wrote the other day. It's about Dennis' childhood.
Yesterday threw everything at me
“ I can now clearly remember the dank smell of that house, that damp dank smell - one which I can still remember now so vividly. It choked you, going right to the back of your throat and lingering for what seemed an eternity. I was in my room though I suppose it seemed more like a box even though I was still so small. I felt like I was in a dolls house and everything was twenty sizes to small for me.
I didn't feel so big though when she was near me. When she was around I felt like I was a part of the dolls house and she was a giant with all her power against me.
The walls in my room were painted white though it was starting to go a yellowy-brown with all the mould growing on it - making it seem furry like a caterpillar; slowly growing it’s was up the rough wall spreading out everywhere like a tumour infecting it’s surroundings.
I hated the colour, it was like she used it to cover up all my sin. For being a burden to her.
I never meant to be like that to her, all I wanted to do was make her better and for her to love me. She said that I’d ‘dragged her down’, like I was a weight tied to her in a river, pulling her under the rough depths, suffocating her until she could no longer managed to breathe. Maybe it was my fault that she was like she was; I’m not sure whether I ever will be.
I sat on the hard wooden floor boards, finding an area that was not covered in dust and dirt, sweeping my hand across the floor and catching it on the splinters that stuck out and pricked me. I began to daydream, something that I had found took my mind of the horrors that haunted me and prayed on my mind when I was least expecting it. I dreamt of her loving me and treating me like the other mother’s treated their children, giving them cuddles and soothing them when they were distressed. I didn’t care if she didn’t take me on holiday or played football in the park like I was aware other parent’s did; all I wanted was to be loved.
I was just falling deeper into this dream when I heard a loud screech and it stood up with a jolt fear spreading through my body. She was back and by the way she was walking down the hallway - stomping loudly, her clumpy boots pounding the hard floor she was not in a good mood. I tried to hide myself; curling up in a bundle like a hedgehog yet she sensed where I was and found me instantly.
I felt her lean over me, her Vodka scented breath spreading the air around us. She grabbed the back of my itchy jumper and pulled me up with such a force that I stumbled back and hit the wall, my head crashing into the cold unyielding surface.
Pain washed through me and I felt tears run down my cheeks, all my emotion escaping me and making it’s presence visible for her. I looked up at her long, lean face and took in all of her familiar features. Her over-plucked dark eyebrows; her long nose that spread out when she laughed; her sinister looking eyes that pierced through you and entered your brain, entering you’re thoughts and reading them so accurately; her long bleached hair that tangled at the bottom with the washed-out coloured roots at the top. I had always thought that my mother was beautiful, yet now I could see for the first time she was not.
She had always had two sides: the rare times when she was nice to me and stayed in and cooked my tea; usually these were the times when the social services came round after a complaint from one of the neighbours when they heard my yells. However, I understand now that though she could be nice, underneath she was pure evil. She hated me and I hated her. Nevertheless, I still craved her love and attention and I didn’t want her to despise me like I knew she did.
I tired to hold my arms out to her, only reaching her knee’s for I was so small, especially for a boy. She bent down lovingly to my level, smiling and I smiled more back. Maybe this was the moment. Maybe now she was going to love me. I walked closer and looked at her. In that very moment her smile disappeared and turned into a face of hatred, her eyes glaring evilly at me. She pulled her arm back slowly and then pushed her hand forwards at me, aiming for my head. I screamed a high-pitched scream, but could not move for all the fear that was in my body. I saw her hand and tried to duck but failed miserably.
Her hand whacked me across my tiny face her long nails scratching my skin and leaving marks all across my cheeks. I winced and then slowly tumbled back and hit the wall, feeling my skull bang on the hard surface. How could she do this to her own son?
She laughed, making no effort to help me up, seeming pleased that she had so much power over someone. She left the room, still laughing as she left the house, obviously heading for the pub. I stayed still, blood slowly running out of my head, waiting for her to come back…”
Yesterday threw everything at me
“ I can now clearly remember the dank smell of that house, that damp dank smell - one which I can still remember now so vividly. It choked you, going right to the back of your throat and lingering for what seemed an eternity. I was in my room though I suppose it seemed more like a box even though I was still so small. I felt like I was in a dolls house and everything was twenty sizes to small for me.
I didn't feel so big though when she was near me. When she was around I felt like I was a part of the dolls house and she was a giant with all her power against me.
The walls in my room were painted white though it was starting to go a yellowy-brown with all the mould growing on it - making it seem furry like a caterpillar; slowly growing it’s was up the rough wall spreading out everywhere like a tumour infecting it’s surroundings.
I hated the colour, it was like she used it to cover up all my sin. For being a burden to her.
I never meant to be like that to her, all I wanted to do was make her better and for her to love me. She said that I’d ‘dragged her down’, like I was a weight tied to her in a river, pulling her under the rough depths, suffocating her until she could no longer managed to breathe. Maybe it was my fault that she was like she was; I’m not sure whether I ever will be.
I sat on the hard wooden floor boards, finding an area that was not covered in dust and dirt, sweeping my hand across the floor and catching it on the splinters that stuck out and pricked me. I began to daydream, something that I had found took my mind of the horrors that haunted me and prayed on my mind when I was least expecting it. I dreamt of her loving me and treating me like the other mother’s treated their children, giving them cuddles and soothing them when they were distressed. I didn’t care if she didn’t take me on holiday or played football in the park like I was aware other parent’s did; all I wanted was to be loved.
I was just falling deeper into this dream when I heard a loud screech and it stood up with a jolt fear spreading through my body. She was back and by the way she was walking down the hallway - stomping loudly, her clumpy boots pounding the hard floor she was not in a good mood. I tried to hide myself; curling up in a bundle like a hedgehog yet she sensed where I was and found me instantly.
I felt her lean over me, her Vodka scented breath spreading the air around us. She grabbed the back of my itchy jumper and pulled me up with such a force that I stumbled back and hit the wall, my head crashing into the cold unyielding surface.
Pain washed through me and I felt tears run down my cheeks, all my emotion escaping me and making it’s presence visible for her. I looked up at her long, lean face and took in all of her familiar features. Her over-plucked dark eyebrows; her long nose that spread out when she laughed; her sinister looking eyes that pierced through you and entered your brain, entering you’re thoughts and reading them so accurately; her long bleached hair that tangled at the bottom with the washed-out coloured roots at the top. I had always thought that my mother was beautiful, yet now I could see for the first time she was not.
She had always had two sides: the rare times when she was nice to me and stayed in and cooked my tea; usually these were the times when the social services came round after a complaint from one of the neighbours when they heard my yells. However, I understand now that though she could be nice, underneath she was pure evil. She hated me and I hated her. Nevertheless, I still craved her love and attention and I didn’t want her to despise me like I knew she did.
I tired to hold my arms out to her, only reaching her knee’s for I was so small, especially for a boy. She bent down lovingly to my level, smiling and I smiled more back. Maybe this was the moment. Maybe now she was going to love me. I walked closer and looked at her. In that very moment her smile disappeared and turned into a face of hatred, her eyes glaring evilly at me. She pulled her arm back slowly and then pushed her hand forwards at me, aiming for my head. I screamed a high-pitched scream, but could not move for all the fear that was in my body. I saw her hand and tried to duck but failed miserably.
Her hand whacked me across my tiny face her long nails scratching my skin and leaving marks all across my cheeks. I winced and then slowly tumbled back and hit the wall, feeling my skull bang on the hard surface. How could she do this to her own son?
She laughed, making no effort to help me up, seeming pleased that she had so much power over someone. She left the room, still laughing as she left the house, obviously heading for the pub. I stayed still, blood slowly running out of my head, waiting for her to come back…”