Lust…..

Lust

He had always lusted after her. Ever since that first day he saw her her. There was just something about her. She was too young then, it would have being unacceptable, even to him. But throughout the years, he watched her slowly blossom into the young beautiful girl, he knew that she was, and the beautiful woman she would one day turn out to be. Perhaps, one day become his wife, he allowed himself to fantasise at times . He struggled with his anger, and jealousy as he watched from afar, how the other young boys of her own age had also noticed and appreciated her striking looks, and that certain aura. But now she blossoming into a young woman, well a young girl at least.
Alone with her in the classroom. His offer of extra tuition was welcomed. She was struggling with the more complex mathematical formulas and equations. He sat close to her, studying her face, her clear skin, her brown clean hair, as she studied the text. Her innocent, questioning brown eyes. Her easy engaging laughter. The sounds of the other school children on the summer lit playing field, echoing into the empty classroom. He pushed his leg against her bare leg. She did not pull away. His breathing rate increased. Years of longing, of yearning. Desires held for so long, and dearly, possibly about to come to fruition. He began to perspire slightly, and loosened his tie, and removed his jacket. She continued to study the text, and question him, when she was puzzled. He was in love with the softness of her voice, with her physicality, her innocence, her spirit, her soul, even though he did not know her. He was in love with her.

He moved even closer as she studied the text, and placed his hand on the back of her chair, then placed his hands between her shoulder blades, to see her response, and enjoyed the softness of her young , tender body. He moved his face closer to hers. So much so, they were nearly touching. She did not pull away. She turned to face him. He could feel and taste her sweet breath upon his face, and moved his face closer still towards her inviting young lips, eager to touch, to taste, to meet. Those innocent wide brown eyes, looked into his, offering herself to him. He took her face in her hands and moved his lips closer to hers. She waited…

‘Mr Williams, in God’s name, what do you think you are doing ? ‘

He had never heard her enter the room, so engrossed was he, with the possible realization of his long held desires. He immediately released his hold of his young charge, and moved away from her. He began to stutter, and sooth his hair, and clothing. His face flushed with embarrassment and desire.
‘Well, she demanded’, waiting for an answer, some explanation. Her face contorted in an expression of exasperation and bewilderment. But there was no explaining this.

He was quiet for a few moments, while he gathered his thoughts. Why lie he concluded. Be honest, be true, was his choice. ‘What does it look like,  I am at last giving free reign to my love, our love. Free of the shackles of conformity, free of other people’s views of what is right or wrong ‘, His voice becoming stronger as he spoke, determined not to be denied, what he believed to be his right. ‘Free from the views of the narrow minded people, who don’t know, or will ever know what true love is’.

‘Mr Williams, this can never be, not now, not ever ‘. Her voice stern, but slow, as if she was explaining to a child. ‘Millie is only thirteen years old, and you’re a middle aged man. This can never be’.
‘You know nothing’, he shot back. ‘What are you but an aging spinster, who knows nothing of intimacy, of true love’. He moved towards her, as she retreated from his angry movements. Millie watched wide eyed and quietly from the corner of the room. Her breathing rapid, and strained. He continued to  move towards the Headmistress. She could sense his volcanic like anger, being unleashed. She shuddered at the volume and mence of his voice, which filled the classroom. His face red, the veins either side of his forehead throbbing. His movements wild and uncontrolled. As soon as he was close enough to her, he pushed her with as much force as he could muster, her small frame no match for his strength and anger. She hit the classroom floor with much force, banging her head on the concrete. Her legs folded backwards in a grotesque manner. Her movements ceased.
In the silence that followed, his anger began to subside slightly, and he turned his attention once again towards Millie. In the corner of the room her face was taking on a shade of grey, and her lips very slightly tinged with a purple hue. Her breathing was labored and strained, and her eyes wide wide with fear and panic, as she struggled to breath.

‘Millie, do you have an inhaler ? , he demanded. Where is it, where is it ?’ He frantically searched her school desk, and in her school bag. But with no luck. He found her cute mobile phone, covered with stickers of cats, and some glitter. Very much the toy of a child, for that is what she was. He used her cute phone to call for an ambulance. He moved back toward Millie in the corner of the room, and sat beside her and held her. Rubbing her back gently, and pushing her now damp hair, back from her face, in the vain hope it would offer her some physical relief and comfort. He held her like this as he waited for the ambulance.
The sounds of  children’s laughter, from the sunlit playing fields, echoed in the silence of the classroom.

Tea.

Tea

‘You’ll have had your tea’ ,  her broad strong Scottish accent breaking the silence. She sat
opposite him. His smile visible the other side of the large candelabra that stood on the centre of the large table.
She reached over and placed the cooked dinner before him. It was of course a waste of time. She began to eat her own dinner, savouring its taste, while continuing the conversation. Whatever she said, his expression never changed from that smile. The effects of the concoction she had laced his earlier meal now fully enshrined within his body. His features, his muscles frozen, and paralyzed. Only his eyes, breathing and hearing were now functioning.

‘Would you like some desert ? ‘, ‘What’s that you say’, taking his part of the conversation, ‘Ok then dear, nothing it is’. The dinner plate in front of him remained untouched.
His eyes searched hers for something, anything. Some reason, any reason. some explanation for this cruel imprisonment of his mind and soul within a immovable physical body.
She stopped eating for a brief moment and saw the questioning, and pleading in his eyes.
‘I can see you have questions, dear’, studying his eyes, which were wild, angry and fearful all at once.
‘A little explanation, no doubt is what you’d like’. His grotesque, continual smiling face, absurd in the obscene, and quiet comical at the same time, bearing in mind his predicament. She stifled a smile of her own, at the vision that sat before her.

‘Well if you must know, dear. Its men like you who use women like me, to satisfy there own selfish desires, with scant regard for their wives, or long term loving partners. It’s men like you who sicken me to the core, and the truth be told dear, I’ve had enough of it. I’ve had enough of the lot of you. The men who lie, deceive, cheat on their wives and love partners. I’m sick of the dirty, sleezy men I’ve had to deal with over the years, pretending like I am actually enjoy the physical act. Pretending that I enjoy their company. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’m finished with the game, I’m getting out,’ she continued. ‘This will be my my final swan song’. With that she treated herself to another morsel of food, followed by a well deserved sip of red wine.
She reached into her handbag, that lay by her feet, and retrieved a small silver antique bottle, and placed it on the table a few centimetres from his hand.
‘In this bottle, is the antidote, that will unlock your body. All you have to do, is reach forward and drink it, and all will be well. She smiled as she looked into his fearful eyes.
‘From when I leave this table you will have twenty minutes before the leaking gas will be ignited, and then, well……’ With that she got up from the table, and left the room, stopping at the door, to glance one more time, at his fearful, pleading eyes, and listen to his increasingly frantic breathing. She noted the beads of perspiration of his forehead.

She moved upstairs to another of her gentleman callers, who she last left lying on the large double bed, under the silk eiderdown. His face contorted in anger. Again she explained the situation, as she had to her gentleman caller in the dining area. She reached into her handbag a second time, and retrieved another small silver antique bottle, explaining it was the antidote that would unfreeze his body, and placed tantalizingly well within his reach. She further explained the impending explosion and fireball possibly likely to follow within the next twenty minutes. Again, his expression remained unchanged. She paused just briefly at the door, to glance at his angry, hate filled eyes.
Finally she returned to the basement dungeon. It’s dark, wet red and black walls, and red candles contributing to a very foreboding atmosphere. The various implements that lined the cold brick walls, the tools of her trade. She approached him, where he hung on the cross. His face, his eyes, expressionless. No pleading, no fear, no anger. Just nothing. Rather a submissive acceptance of his fate. Again she explained, reached into her handbag and placed another silver antique  bottle containing the antidote, just within reach of his hand. She stopped at the arched doorway of the cellar, and took one last glance at him, and looked to the bench where he undressed, and had laid his black suit and clerical collar, and rosary beads.
Her work concluded, she left the house for the final time and drove into the windswept, wet night and to freedom.

Fragrance

Fragrance

He never believed her. Never in his wildest dreams did he think it was possible. Although she had told him many times she would do it. As he sat up in bed, the beads of perspiration were slowly trickling down his forehead. He pulled at his pajamas which were damp and sticky. Afraid to switch on the light, for fear of what he might see.
There it was again, the unmistakable scent of her favourite perfume. The third time this week. He cursed himself for the alcohol he had indulged himself with the previous evening, and the evening before that, and so many other evenings. In the darkness he called out to the Lord to protect him, and began to mumble what he could remember of the Lord’s prayer, which he repeated a further four times, at speed. He always asked of the Lord, but never gave to the Lord. He gripped the white bedsheets tightly, perspiration running down his forehead. He nudged the woman who lay beside him, but to no avail.  Her overindulengence in a variety of cocktails the previous evening, ensured she would be sleeping for hours. He glanced at her disheveled hair, her fading make up revealing a face ravaged by many years of heavy alcohol use. The black mascara fading from round her eyes, revealing a less than pretty face. At least not as attractive now, as it seemed last evening in the glamorous settings of the 5 star hotel, they had visited, with the other well to do people, they called friends.

While she was alive, she watched him over many years squander the family savings in a self indulgent lifestyle of illicit extra marital affairs. A hedonistic lifestyle of alcohol, the finest of food, expensive holidays, all without her. An uncaring attitude towards his family, and responsibilities he had signed up for when he had married her, and brought their children into the world. As they grew further apart, but because of religion and for appearances sake, they presented to the world, the picture of the happily married couple, and their lovely children. A couple whose life was wonderful, and harmonious. It was anything but.

‘When I die, I will come back to haunt you, You will never have any peace’.

Her voice reverberating around the dull, grey kitchen. Badly in need of updating. But as he was the breadwinner, he had steadfastly refused to spend any of his funds on anything but self indulgent activities and events.
He ignored her, while concentrating on the hearty breakfast he had fixed himself, hoping it would help with the severe hangover he was suffering from.

‘Mark my words ,’ she continued.

He laughed and scoffed at her words. Perhaps in hindsight, not the wisest choice of action. The day passed quickly, as he feared. His lady companion from the previous evening, arose from the bed come mid afternoon, and decided to return to her own home. The drunken fitful sleep, not helping her appearance , or mood in any way, whatsoever. Even though he had tired of her, and was ready to move on from her. Out of fear and insecurity, of what the night would bring, he begged her to stay. Even offering another alcohol fueled day at his expense. She briefly considered his offer. But decided against it.

‘Don’t bother coming back, then’, he shouted at her as she slammed the front door on the way out.

Another relationship, ready for the bin. Unable to settle as the evening wore on, he sat in front of the television, in the darkened room. Looking but not really seeing the flickering pictures. He poured himself a second glass of the red liquid. Holding the glass tightly. It’s strength burning his throat on it’s passage to his brain. He welcomed the effect the alcohol was beginning to have on his mind, his courage and bravado. If ever there was an elixir of life, this was it.
A miracle invention, he mumbled to himself. Contemplating had he being President he would most certainly have awarded these genius, as that’s how him viewed them, at the very least, The Congressional Medal of Honor. How he would have awarded to them the highest scientific accolades the country could offer. Such was his admiration for such a marvellous invention.
The evening passed quickly. Afraid to go to the bedroom alone, he sat in front of the television. Eventually the effects of tiredness, and a further two glasses of the red liquid, forced sleep upon him. Without him being aware of it, he was asleep.
In the dream, she stood before him, laughing. Just as he remembered her, when she was alive. How he hated her effervescent, her vibrant spirit. His attempts to destroy her lively spirit, a failure. How she would continually bounce back, was a complete, and very irritating mystery to him.

‘I told you I’d come back to haunt you’, she laughed.

With alcohol induced bravery and courage, he responded.

‘You’re only a dream, that’s all you are. When I wake up, you will be gone’.

Again she laughed.

The dream finished and he continued to a more peaceful sleep. He was awoken by his body calling to him to use the bathroom. He opened his eyes slowly, reacquainting himself with the room. In the semi darkness, her white shimmering figure, surrounded by a blue haze, hovered above the fireplace. Her vibrant laughter filling the room. He screamed, just like a woman. The more he screamed, the more she laughed. He ran from the room, perspiration dripping from his forehead. His heart beating as fast as it had ever being, if not more so. His legs shaking with fear. He called out to the Lord Jesus to protect him. He ran to the kitchen, now updated of course, and locked the door. He turned from the door breathing heavily and quickly. Again her white shimmering figure stood before him, hovering above the floor, and laughing. He ran for the door, unlocked it and ran upstairs to the spare bedroom. Entered, and locked and bolted the door behind him. Again breathing very heavily and quickly. The chemical concoction in his stomach, wild and on fire. He recognised her laughter, and her fragrance. He did not need to look. He unbolted the door at speed, and ran from the room.
Wide eyed he fled down the stairs taking steps two at a time. Her laughter and fragrance followed him. It was the last four steps that did it. The resounding thump, as his head hit the final step. The slowly seeping blood from his ear. His inability to feel his legs. His breathing becoming slow, and labored. His senses on their final journey. His hearing becoming very faint. But enough to hear her laughter and breath in the scent of her fragrance just one last time.

Gone Forever.

Photo credit : Hector Martinez / Unsplash.com

She lit the candle and placed it by the shrine, but knew it was pointless. He was gone now, and would not be coming back. What she would give now for there silly pointless arguments, that they had so many times. How she at  times hated and despised him, and wished he was dead. What she would give now, to make it not so.
Did his classmates care ? hardly. He always stood apart from the others. There would be others just like him, who were  just that slightly way different. Those that were perceived to be a little strange. His love of poetry, his lack of female companionship, or interest in any females, at least not in that way. Those who stood apart from the rest of the group. The peace and tranquility in the home were now gone and shattered. Her Father had gone quiet and began to drink very heavily. She heard his cries of despair as she passed his room late at night. Her Mother, who was a cold, uptight woman, always found it hard to show much emotion, choose to ignore what had happened. For the most part she just played the piano incessantly, and busied herself with reading. Everyone dealing with the loss in their own ways.
Just one of the group came to the shrine. Dressed in the uniform of the culture. The black leather jacket, black trousers, and obligatory permanent snarl. She wanted to scream, and ask of him , why ? Did they really need to torture him mentally and psychologically every day. Why could they not have left him in peace and let him be. Why did they have to be that way, to be so cruel, why ?

She stared at him across the gravel courtyard of the shrine, willing him silently, to look at her. But he refused, and keep his head bowed low. Having enough of this nonsense she marched across the courtyard to confront him. The gravel crunching under her feet. Her heart pumping fast, her legs shaking somewhat, with the release of the chemical concoction in her body. She stopped, as she watched him kneel down and take some matches from his jacket, and light a candle, enshrined in its small glass container, and place it at the foot of the wall. She watched as he began to pray, and just for a brief moment his mask slipped, as he wiped away a solitary tear. She continued to watch him, as he lit a second candle, enshrined in it’s glass container, and placed it against the foot of the wall, and again say a brief prayer.

He stood up and put back on the mask and swagger of the uncaring youth, that he pretended to be. Had she known, she would of course have stopped him, and begged him not to do it. Not to waste another young life, by his own hand. A few weeks later , after reading about it in the local newspaper, she again returned to the shrine, and lit another candle, but this time for him.
===============================
He is gone now, he ain’t coming back
What I wish I said, but it’s no use now, cause he is dead
Would I have said I loved you more, just so that you’d know the score
Would I have argued less, rather than trying to get inside, and upset your head
What’s the point of large regret, for all those words left unsaid
What’s the point of tears to shed, cause now you’re dead, you ain’t no more

You know the big secret now, of what’s beyond the sky
It’s where were all headed, on that day we die
Why did you do it, take your life like that
Why could not be strong like a lion, in the face of such abuse
Can’t you see the pain were in, as you look down from above
I’m praying to Jeasus your sending us, tons and tons of love

Dear brother I love you lots, even though you’re far away
I ache for us to meet again, so I can have my say
Tell you that I love you, just the way you are
For in my mind you was ,and forever will be, that bright, everlasting star
I wish you could have been stronger, back here on planet earth
Why could you not have been a fighter, a man who stood his ground

Why could you not have tougher, not the weakling you were perceived to be
But then dear brother, you can of course only be, what you can be
Had you been different with your love of poetry, and all the rest
Maybe I would not have considered you one of the very best
Don’t you worry, kiddo I knew just what you were, my intuition put me straight on that
Not that it matters, it was just the way you were
But to me , you will always and forever be that bright, everlasting star.

Written in response to a photo prompt seen here : http://creativewriting.ie/writing-prompts/

The Message.

Photo by Milos Tonchevski on Unsplash

It was the loneliness that drove her to join them. She never was one for joining groups, but had tired of being alone, always on her own. Since they had split. It was hard. When he was by her side, it was the two of them versus the world. But not now.
The world seemed a colder place, a less friendly place, and harder to deal with, when alone. No one to share with, no one to offer comfort, when life got hard, as it does for everyone. They offered comfort, companionship and a sense of belonging. She was told and understood there would be tests and initiation ceremonies, if she wanted to become one of them. But she was not expecting this. Silly teenage dares, she would welcome. Childish pranks, yes. Teasing would be boyfriends, okay. But these tests were becoming more and more bizarre and serious.

She had been driving for hours as instructed, and eventually pulled of the road to a secluded area, where she could at last open the tome and read the latest message in absolute privacy. She switched off the car engine. In the warm late evening sunshine, with only the sounds of the departing birds in the distance,she faced east, as per the ritual,and picked up a small twig. Drew a pentagram in the dry earth. She lit two black candles and placed them either side of the pentagram, and stood back. Reciting the mantra she had learned she let her voice vibrate from the depths of her body, through her throat and outward into the universe, sounding like some possessed evil spirit. She asked the Goddess to come into her life and bestow her wisdom and knowledge. She asked Lucifer, the most evil of all to come into her life and help her carry out what she was instructed to do.
Again she read the instructions, more carefully this time. She did not wish to dwell too deeply on the possible consequences. Best just do it, and let what will be, will be, she decided. Sitting in front of the pentagram she began to chant softly at first, feeling quiet inhibited. But she forced herself to chant the latin words written in the message louder and louder, and she stared at the pentagram and at the burning black candles, willing them to conjure up an image, a sense of a presence, a change in the atmosphere, a coldness perhaps. Anything to convince her, the ritual, the summoning of the evil spirits was working. But nothing. But she was told, at times during such rituals she may not feel or sense anything out of the ordinary. But to have faith that once these spirits were called, they were come to do her bidding. With the ritual complete, she put away the candles, and pushed some dry earth over the image of the pentagram.
She began her journey, guessing it would take her approx two hours to get their. Plenty of time to think, to back out, and change her mind. But then she thought of the consequences. Of the possibility of being expelled from the group, and back into an empty lonely lifestyle. The prospect of such did not appeal. Who wants to be all alone during the summer months when everyone is out and about enjoying themselves. Add to that the less than pleasant possibility of being haunted by the evil spirits she knew the group could send into her life, if they so desired.
Her phone jangled with an incoming message. She reached down, having an idea who it was from, and flipped on the screen. He just stood there staring, why did he not move. The black eyes glaring at her,unblinking. The head slightly bent stubbornly. The horns sharpened like spears. She looked up from the phone to the angry, contorted face in front of the car, and screamed. Her heart beating very fast. The butterflies in her stomach flying like crazy. Her legs began to shake uncontrollably , as the adrenaline surged through her body. She hit the brakes as hard as she could, but he just stood there, refusing to move. Why would he not move. His hooves digging at the earth in defiance. She struggled with the steering wheel, and managed to turn away, but too late. The horns broke through her side window. The sound of smashing glass. The impact throwing her across the front seats.

In the silence,she tasted the blood running from her mouth, and felt the cold hardness of the gear stick protruding slightly through her ribs. Looking through the windscreen, she watched a black raven standing on the car bonnet watching her. After a few moments, satisfied. The black raven flew into the night sky, and away……

Written in response to a photo prompt seen her ;  (http://creativewriting.ie/writing-prompts/

Practical cannibalism for the modern man.

Savor

She was as sweet as pie, but she had to die, that was just the way it was going to be
I cut her into slices, really sharpening the damn knife first
Then decided to cut her into pieces and have her with a cup of tea
I decapicated her head, just to make sure she was dead

Tomorrow I will investigate her brain, I wonder am I insane
But she should not have said I was no good in bed
Pretty sure she meant it too
I will serve her with bacon,  parsley, basil, and celery shoots

See if I cant find and eat her mind, you know, as you do
I never would have guessed human flesh was among the best
If tenderized sufficiently
Along with condiments, and salads
It’s a delightful meal, fit for more than two

Next onto human organs, this is such a culinary adventure
I can hardly wait to taste and see
I never guessed I could be such a cannibal
It sure is such a surprise to me
But she only has herself to blame,saying I as a man was quiet insane
That I was unable to light her flame,at least now we’ll be together forever more
As she takes up residence within my core

Maybe do not challenge another, should you wish to discover
Whether they are what they claim to be
Cause you may not enjoy what you find out,see
Perhaps not the best to accuse others of being insane
Cause you just might be on the recieving end of some serious pain, for real

So when in the darkness of the night, when I want to be in touch with her brightness and light
Just one more time
I’ll just call out loud to her, and say ‘Alright darling, how you doing, I’ll bet your doing fine, and your mine, all mine’, as you reside forever more, deep within my core
Now where can I find the next victim, that I can eat
Here’s hoping she tastes twice as sweet
I wonder how well human flesh goes with green tea.

Jangle

Jangle

It was the jangle of the keys that brought me to my knees
I said I could take no more, the torture, the unbearable pain
It’s enough to drive you insane, why don’t you listen to what it is, I am saying
My Mother laughed at my pitiful cries, as did my Father too

They slammed the cellar door shut, and locked it tight
In the darkness alone, I sat, and I moaned, in quiet some fright
Felt as sorry for myself as I could be, but determined that one day I would be free
I would have my revenge on these people who tortured me
I would send them to hell where they belonged to be

One more night of drunken fighting, to some that may seem exciting
One more night of sticking the knife in, metaphorically, of course
With the cellar door unlocked, what’s more
The box of matches, the firestarter, that’s what did it for me
The couch aflame as they sat and felt the pain, as I laughed at their pitiful cries and moans
No more the jangle of the keys would bring me to my knees
I was free as I was ever going to be
The flames grew higher as I added other materials to the pyre
I watched without much fuss, as the two of them combust
Laughter and joy, emanating from me

Now as a grown man I am what I am
Doing what I can to torture these children in front of me
The fear in their eyes makes me come alive
As I jangle the keys, as was done in front of me
They not knowing which one of them will be thrown, behind that dark cellar door
Where their screams will remain unheard, until, and if they learn
That the life you lead, depends a lot on how you please
The others who may be in control of you

The jangle of the keys still brings me to my knees, but now with laughter and joy
Because of the power I wield over these vulnerable children in need
These children of mine, will I make their lives shine
I don’t think so, Inflict cruelty and pain, enough to drive them insane
Add a fair measure of fear too
Will I let them live, will I destroy their souls
These are the thoughts I contemplate, as I jangle the keys around my wrist.

Written in response to : Daily Prompt,  Jangle.

Change….

‘ Why oh why cant you be the way I want you to be. Why cant you be different. You are not what I want in a woman, in a love partner ‘. That was it, he had said it out. All those thoughts that for weeks on end had been going round and round his head. She sat back on the couch devastated. He couldn’t look at her now. They both stared at the Television replaying some old black and white gangster movie from the ’50’s. Watching but not really seeing.

She began to weep, as he had expected. But reminded himself to stay strong, as he had seen it all before. The free flowing tears would soon subside, to be replaced, he guessed by silence, then anger. Possibly the begging and pleading would follow. Asking for another chance, an opportunity to change. To turn into the woman he wanted her to be. But enough was enough, he had decided. Never again would he get caught up with an unsuitable, incompatible partner. Next time, were their a next time, he would listen to what his intuition was screaming at him, ‘She’s the wrong choice’, was the message that was coming through loud and clear,but it was the message,out of loneliness and isolation
that he choose to ignore.
He had enough of the arguments, the disagreements. The throwing of dishes, the screaming, shouting and tears. The beginnings of her increasing physical violence towards him. Borne out of her frustration with a relationship between two incompatible people. The mis-matched sexual appetites, and attitudes. The different views of what was important and what mattered in a relationship.

‘ Enough is enough, and I want out, and that’s what’s happening here, I’m gone ‘.

Her tears, and wailing increased. Then the anger and accusations of using her just for sex. Untrue of course. He reached down and picked up the few belongings he had thrown into the small travel bag, took one last glance at the TV and at her weeping on the couch, and made his break for freedom, determined never to step back into such a wasteful relationship again.

Written in response to a photo / writing prompt seen here :  http://creativewriting.ie/writing-prompts/

Psychological Self Defense for The Downtrodden.

Many human beings are predators at heart. Given a chance will try for whatever reasons
to get the better of others. Whether because of their own psychological make up, or God only knows why. So here are some quick and easy tips to protect yourself. Prevent yourself from being a victim.

1). In a confrontational, new or challenging situation, whether speaking up for yourself, or a physical altercation, expect to feel scared, to feel afraid. The butterflies in the stomach. The shaky , weak feeling in the legs. The dry mouth. The shaky, high pitched voice. It’s normal and natural. Just the bodies reaction to impending confrontation. Everyone feels it. Even tough looking bouncers and security staff, Policemen , Firemen, and others who seem so confident. It’s just that some hide it , that feeling of fear,( which is just another name for adrenaline ) , better than others. due to their constant exposure to challenging situations. One way to deal with the effects of fear is to label situations as exciting, rather than fearful. Because it’s similar chemicals that are released by the body to deal with such situations. Take an amusement park ride, or step into the boxing ring, same feelings, different situations.

2). Build up your self esteem, and confidence. Do what scares you,do what you are afraid of. Afraid of heights, climb that high wall. Afraid of public speaking, speak up at a public event. Start small, if you like. But when you do what your afraid of, the sense of self esteem and satisfaction you are rewarded with, is immense. Learn to love yourself, faults and all. Accept yourself for the way you are. All aspects of yourself. Walk away, and stay away from others who strive to undermine you, and crush your soul. Whether they be lovers, family, or so called friends.

3).Be Assertive. I f you don’t like the way someone is speaking to you, or treating you. Tell them. No need for anger, just say it as it is. Say how you feel.  If they disregard you, and pay no heed. Stay away from them. Cut them from you life if needs be. Refuse to interact with them, refuse to speak to them, if your stuck with parents,as an example who may be toxic to you. There is no need to put up with rubbish treatment from people. Be aware toxic people will not let you out their clutches easily, and their will be repeated attempts on their part to integrate themselves back into your life, to push through your psychological boundaries, that you have in place. About what behavior and treatment you are willing to tolerate or not, from others. With high self esteem, and been assertive you will become more selective, about whom you allow to enter your life, and what treatment you will tolerate from others. Not all people are nice, and good for you. Do not fall for the charm, and warmth and friendliness. It’s all a ruse. Because soon after the cycle of abuse will begin again. It will start small and then they will escalate it, guaranteed. Look out for it. Remember Mothers can be envious of their daughters , and Fathers can be envious and jealous of there sons.

Just a couple of quick tips, for a nicer life.

Daily Prompt: Meddle

Meddle

‘Why do you always meddle, why can’t you leave me be ? ‘, the exasperation and anger evident and obvious in her voice.
‘Why can’t you mind your own. I’ll live my life and you live yours ‘.
‘I’m only looking out for you. I have your best interests at heart’, he lied.
‘I dont mean any harm’, again he lied.

Any method would suffice. Any way to get under person’s skin.

‘Why do you always interfere. I don’t want your advice, suggestions, and views. I find them of little interest or consequence. Just go away and leave me be’, she screamed, exasperated. Her face red, her breathing rapid, her fists held tightly, as the adrenaline zoomed round her body. Her stomach in uproar, as the butterflies struggled to remain calm.
The toxic interloper smiled to himself. He had upset his target, his victim. Satisfied that he had got the reaction, any reaction, but preferably an angry one from the upset person. Another victory in his tiny mind. At last he left the kitchen.
In some peace, Sara breathed a deep sigh of relief. Her shoulders dropped from where she had held them high and tightly around her neck. Her jaw softened
and released. Heer breathing eased as the chemical concoction of fear, adrenaline and confrontation subsided in her stomach. She knew it would only be a matter of time before the psychological assault would begin again. Perhaps after a day or two, or maybe even a shorter interlude. For now she was grateful for the temporary relief. But begin again it would for sure. She knew from past experience it would be never ending. No matter how strongly she built her mental and psychological barriers and boundaries. No matter how many times she promised herself she would rebuff and reject his friendly advances. He would always charm her with kindness, and friendliness. Playing the sympathy and victim card for all it was worth, such that it would crack open even the coldest heart. The profuse apologies for the way in which he had spoken to her. Promising her an empty promise that such behavior would never happen again.
It was of course all lies. Even if he believed he could change his way of being. It had gone on for so long, it was all automatic now, after so many years. The cycle of abuse would begin again. Sara looked out of the kitchen window to the wild growing garden. The myriad of flowers were a welcome addition to the overgrown and wild garden. Grateful for the temporary peace and the charming birdsong emanating from the garden. She released the strong stranglehold, she had unconsciously gripped her mug of coffee with. Reminding herself to relax. He was gone out

It was an intolerable situation for her. An never ending  guerrilla warfare, with a sly, devious, charming opponent. Day after day, or so it seemed. A non stop assault upon her soul and spirit. she tried God and religion, not much help there. She had dipped her toes into many off beat and strange therapies, any method, any route to improve an impossible situation.
Trapped and imprisoned just about described her situation. She had to consciously stop her self from replaying recent memories of his crazy making, as her body again reacted negatively to such events,even though in the past. He was forever in her mind. Every day, every hour of every day it seemed. Peace sought, but rarely found. On her weaker days she had contemplate ending her life quietly by whatever means possible and slipping away, to find some peace at last.
Her mental strenght and fortitude would weaken from time to time,only to be re-invigorated and awoken again, ingited again by her angry reactions to his next, or memories of previous psychological assualts. Such thoughts were never strong enopugh to move her to such actions. depressed and bewildered at times. But somehow ,in some way her resilence fortitude and absolute determination not to allow him the victories he sought, which suicdie would have being. His crazy making contributing to her increasing stress and general feeling of unwellness, both mental and phyisical.
It was a non stop war. His continual interference in her life. The continual caustic fault finding and criticism. Too much for even the most placid of people to accept and endue.

To her dismay, she heard his fumbling at the front door, as he returned home  unexpectedly early. Her body began moving into defensive mode. The breathing rate once again increased, her stomach tightened,her legs weakened and shook a little. She knew her  temporary peace of mind was soon to be broken as he entered the kitchen once again, where she was absent mindely finding some peace watching the birds in the garden in the late summer sunshine. He entered the room, no words spoken between them, and made himself busy attending to a sandwich. The heightened tension, tangible. She waited for the dis-respectful, and cruel words to start. She knew it would not be long.

‘How are you ? ‘ was his opening deceptive gambit.
‘Fine’.
Then silence.
‘I don’t mean to be cruel’, he lied. The insinserity eveident in his voice and demeanor.
Still broading, still anrgy from the earlier interaction, and angered more by his evident insincerity.

‘Your a psychological preadator, an emotional vampire, out to destroy and bring down others, that’s all you are’.
He did not answear. He did not respond in the way she expected. No anger, no shock. No wordy defence of his position.
After what seemed like a very long time,
‘It’s all your perception’.
Those words, that refusal to acknowledge his cruelty. That refusal to own his psychological dysfunction, were what sent her blood pressure and anger into the strosphere.
With that  Sara left the kitchen, stopping at the door, holding the door handle very tightly,
‘Do not interact with me anymore. Stop speaking to me’, her voice loud and firm. Her face red, and body shaking with the unexpressed anger and tension. As she left the room, he again smiled to himself. Yet another victory in the crazy little war.
She left the house slaming the front door loudly and walked at speed in the evening summer sunshine trying hard to displace the phyisical and mental tension she held. Walking for hours in an attempt to calm herself. Walking alone, far from others. She needed a plan, a solution to this maddness. Some form of revenge, some victory of her own in this battle, this waar. Sleepness nights followed as she avoided him in the house. In her mind she concontacted a plan, just a humourous way, a silly way of getting back at him.
It started out innocently enough. Some of her own saved urine added to his food supplies left in the communal fridge. The small pieces of mackeral added to his favoured deserts. She watched with pleasure as he ingested the doctored food, silently and malisioulsy wishing him ‘Bon appettite’. The inner satisfaction….joyful, sublime even. But her joy soon turned to dismay as her ‘additions’ were not having the desired effects. No frustrations, or anger on his part. No visable ill effects. It was then she decided to upgrade and esscalate her additions to her food.
First came the hydrogen pryoixde, usually used to clean her camera lenses. Just a few drops now and again. Results not forthcoming as she had wished and hoped for. She searched in the gargae for some stronger medication. It was the blue plastic container of vechicle anti freeze that ciought her eye. Again just a few drops added to his food intake, from time to time. Now at last results were beginning to show. Slowly but surely. first the complaints of an upset stomach. Then onto body weakness. some slight double vision, fast beating heart. Some difficulty breathing. This was easy and was working better than planned. His healthy colour turing to a dark grey unhealthy looking pallor. When his symptoms became too noticeable, she easded off and sometimes stopped the additions to his food intake altogether.
As the damage to his body and mind cointinued, the nastiness, the blackness and darkness in his heart, mind and spirit subsided somewhat. All his phyisical and mental resources focused on healing him, of that which he didnt relaise was ailing him. Never had Sara felt so strong, so powerful. When he asked of her if she had noticed a decline  in his health.

‘You look fine’,she lied, while smiling. ‘Most probably just a phase your going through’.
It continued in this vain over the forthclong weeks. She adding or witholding these additions to his food intake depending on his condition. Other fasmily members were bewildered by his see saw like health, as was his doctor. But Sara was clever enough to moderate the posion when necessary.
Alone in the family home, just the two of them. It was the Tuesday evening when he called her into the bedroom,his voice weak and barely audible. His skin dark grey, his lips purple. Perspiring heavily. The low light in the bedroom not hiding his eveident decline.
‘I am very unwell, call an ambulance’, he whispered.
‘Pardon, I cannot hear you. Can you speak up’. She smiled, enjoying this.
‘An ambulance you say, Sure of course, I’ll ring from downstairs’, she smiled.

She sauntered down the stairs to the kitchen, and made herself a cup of tea, with some biscuits. Went to the TV lounge switched on the film channel and settled back. Chastising herself good  for forgetting to disconnect the phone. Having disabled the phone she settled back, anticipating  an enjoyable evening.