The House of Shadows

Follow me down the dead end street, where the grain bin towers high.
Just a little farther now. See, it’s the white house there on the left with the oak and the pines.

It is time to begin the tale.

The sun shines brightly through the trees and warms the butter coloured daffodils.
We’ll take the back yard gate into the dragon’s lair.

A six foot fence stands tall against the sky to keep neighbours out and helpless children in.
The yard behind the fence watches over memories of long forgotten child’s play.
The old jungle gym stands guardian to an entrance to the past,
sorrow-filled and rotting with the passage of time.

Once through the door of the house filled with night, the kitchen offers its soul.
Can you taste the wondrous scents in the air?
Homemade breads, rich spaghetti sauces, and other palatable delights
made out of love or obligation, the years make it hard to tell.
The first glance of the kitchen makes it appear warm and bright, but upon closer inspection,
you can see the charred remains of what was supposed to be the perfect home.

The family room chairs look plain enough, but under the cobwebs lies a story rarely told.
Happiness tried to break through the layers of mistrust, but humiliation and silence prevailed.

Music and learning were forbidden arts, but the magic of disappearing was one well known.

Cabbage Patch dolls lay petrified on the floor and Barbie wears a real smile because she finally escaped the harsh reality of life by jumping into the loving arms of suicide.

Up the twelve steps that turned sharply to the left into the softness of a little girl’s room.
Pink of roses and white of the noon time sun adorned the room of the beloved children.
Two double beds covered by rainbow spreads, identical, but really not the same.

One piled high with toys and fragrant with the smell of innocence. The other filled with secret fears and sleepless nights, near the window where you can listen to the far away cry of the lonely mama owl.

Now, to the room darkest of all. This is where the monster dwells in all his unveiled horror.

When the mother was gone, the monster and the children were always alone. The young one was allowed escape and played without worry or care. Once the little one was gone, it wouldn’t take long for the blood chilling call to come through the paper thin wall, “Come in here now.”

The walk was a short but tormented one. The child would lie down beside the towering beast and drift in her mind to the corner shadows of the room, where she could see it all in silence.

The house stands alone and deserted now with the lingering haunted spirits. The child has moved to a far away place, out of the monster’s reach, where she is surrounded by truth and light, trying to outlive the darkness.

Jackie L. Lawrence
April 3, 1997

~

THE WHISPERS

The whispers
come to me at night
take my hand
we are going for a drive
don’t worry
everything
is okay
you’ll get a treat
in the end
eat it fast so no one know
your my special
little girl
no one needs to know
the story that I’ve told
whispering little thoughts
into your small head
if you scream and you fight
ill just tell the world
how your such
a bad little girl
how would anyone
believe you
when you misbehave
the way you do
scream
cry
and shout
it just backs up
all that I say
ill whisper little
thoughts inside
your tiny head
rest your small head
on the pillow now
for the rest of the night
if you have nightmares
that just aren’t right
Ill blame the past
no matter what you
do
ill whisper
little thoughts
into your tiny head
so you know
there’s nowhere
to go
I come to you
at night
whispering tiny thoughts
whispering
whispering
so no one
will ever know
that secrets
that I’ve told
and how
I’m devising
all I know
with all
the tricks
I play
as I take
your innocence
away

By Shawna Donaldson

~

Who’s a Prisoner?

Do you know what it’s like
To feel protected
Only in the presence
Of closed shades
And locked doors?
And even then at times feel unsafe?

Daddy walks around
Going wherever he may please…
I once was his prisoner,
Yet he still holds the keys.

The law says he can’t harm me
And the time goes slowly by.
Do they know the torture that’s still present
With every tear I cry?

I can’t tell them how much
It hurts me
To know they let him roam.
Do they know I’m still imprisoned
In a place I should call home?

The law was made to protect me
And yet it’s so unfair.
The victim waits and cries for justice
As abusers roam and breathe the air.

By Victoria Kelly – JOURNEYWITHINBOOK@yahoo.com

~

I Will Be Strong

I was a little girl
I didn’t know right from wrong
I was weak and you were strong

You used your strength to gain my trust
Then abused me as if it were a must
That is not what Daddies do
I now know that this is true

You said you loved me but that can’t be fact
Because with my Mother you made a pact
To always lie and never tell
and stay together as if all is well

Well it’s not all good at least not for me
Because I don’t know what to do you see
I must rid myself of this anger and pain
and with that the control I will gain

I know I must but it’s hard to do
Cause only you and I know what you put me through
You said stay quiet and never tell
I say to you just go to ‘hell’

It is not me that should carry the shame
It is not me that should take the blame
I will speak out, I have a voice
You can’t keep me quiet, you have no choice

I was a little girl
I didn’t know right from wrong
But now you are weak and I am strong

By Karen Russell