Loved.

Popular

She was the most popular girl in high school . Everyone, it seemed loved her. The teachers loved her. She was the star of the sports team. Her classmates loved her, or so it seemed. She had the looks, the bubbly personality, and a way of interacting with others, that made them feel like they were so important. That they mattered. But truth be told, they mattered little to her. She was a very determined young woman, and knew exactly what she wanted from life. In short order that was a well to do lover, who would see to her physical and financial needs. An employer who would pander to her deep-seated desire for glittering carer success, and in the process garner her even more attention, popularity and self importance. As long as life continued along easy street, she’d be happy enough with that.

She knew how to use her good looks, which had already given her pretty much a free ride through life, on easy street. But she never was forced to develop a fully rounded personality. To learn to be kind, sympathetic, empathic with others. To develop a true sense of humour. An ability to laugh at herself and her own failings. People looked at her, and judged her personality and character on how she looked. Assuming, wrongly, if she looked so pretty, that her personality and character most surely match her physical attributes.

But for those that were on the receiving end of her caustic, critical and unpleasant  behaviour, it was quiet another matter. Her sick ailing Mother, whom she had come to despise. Judging her dementia as a weakness, and a self-inflicted illness, through a bad diet, and laziness, and refusal to activate and invigorate her mind. Many screaming matches had ensued between the two in the privacy of the family home , that they shared together. It was she who screamed, and her ailing mother who cowered, fearful and confused by such anger, and her daughters inability to be compassionate and understanding.
Her popularity hide well her nastiness, that was just below the surface. Ready and willing to come to the fore, when required and when out of sight of those who adored and worshipped her. Many were fooled by the expertly contrived show she was very capable of putting on. Her Mother on the other hand was fearful of her, and when not in a confused state of mind, eagerly awaited the day her daughter was to leave the family home.

It was one such day, after yet another one sided war of words between the two, again her Mother cowered. Eventually her daughter exhausted by her own screaming, anger and frustrations, settled back on the comfortable couch in the lounge. She let the images on the tv screen wash over her, and her tired mind and body. Sleep came easily and was very welcoming. The revery of her inner landscape, such a glorious escape from her irritating and increasingly confused Mother. In her dream world images of her glittering and comfortable future unfolded before her. The handsome Italian man she was sure would one day waltz into her life. Her future career filled with limousines, five star hotels, world travel, and of course important business meetings. Then onto her detached home , hidden by the large landscaped gardens.
Thoses very same gardens, in her dream where she rested, layed out under the mid day sun. After some time the heat becoming increasingly uncomfortable, on her forehead, her cheeks, and her jaw, and across her eyes. Discomfort to the extent where her skin felt on fire, as if it was melting. Striving now to wake up from her uncomfortable unpleasant dream, she struggled to open her eyes. The heat of her skin, searing and red raw. She touched her check, the skin unusually soft to her touch.
She watched, and screamed as the Mother,  she had angrily banished upstairs, stood above her, her eyes empty and lost, again tilted the contents of the steaming hot silver teapot over her once pretty face.

Freedom.

Photo credit : https://unsplash.com/@victorduenas

‘You are free’, she whispered, and gently blew the ashes into the wind, that quickly swept them away, towards the ocean. Her favourite place, when she was alive. The place where she sought solace. Where she often walked alone by the ocean and  gained some peace, and strength, when life and the people in it, became unbearable.

Now she could have permanent peace. Away from them. Away from the others. Away from everybody, who strove to be cruel, to betray, to lie and deceive. People she felt and believed she could trust to the ends of the earth. Proved they were not the infallible humans she perceived them to be. Relationships she believed to be rock solid, were not, as it turned out, all that they seemed. Vulnerabilities shared, and now misused, as cruel, thoughtless weapons. Wounded taken aback by how quickly some people she thought she knew inside out, and trusted to the absolute up most degree, could turn for no apparent reason. To leave others reeling from the ferocity of their venom filled words. Trust shattered and now broken, forever. Would they care now ? Perhaps for a few brief moments, and then life as ever would move on quickly.
Was it a misunderstanding. A mis-communication. Not that it mattered now. She was gone, and would not be coming back. It was one way, the only way out  it seemed to her. A cowards way out to some. But who are they to judge. They didn’t have her life. A person trapped in impossible, never-ending situations she did not want, with people she’d rather not be with.

Perhaps life is better there, wherever there is, who knows. Is there even anything out there, again who knows. Her sister blew the ashes  of her troubled older sibling she knew only fleetingly, into the wind, and wished her love and contentment on her final journey to the hereafter.

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

At Last.

Release

The day he longed for had at last come. The taste of freedom just within his touch. As he packed up his meager belongings in his prison cell. The bible, that had seen him through the very darkest of days when life seem pointless. Where no light at the end of the tunnel seemed visible at all. When all seemed lost, it was the bible and the weekly visitors from the members religious group, who told him to keep the faith. That God would help. That one day his pleas of innocence of the crime he was accused of would be believed by those in power. Those on the outside who believed in his innocence, told him to be strong, be patient. As they campaigned tirelessly on his behalf.
He stared at the pictures of the scantily clad women on the cell wall, and admired them. A reminder to himself at least he was still a man, with the desires of a man. As he continued to clear his belongings from the prison cell, he thought of her. He had tried to forgive her. To forget and move on, as he had being advised by many. They could see his anger and bitterness were destroying him. Eroding his peace of mind. His rampant desire for revenge, burned deep within his soul.

Seventeen years incarceration because of her lies and deceit. Seventeen wasted years. He had attended the group sessions in prison, and shared his anger, and bitterness, and he had to admit it helped somewhat. But he did not share his plans of revenge he had in store for her. Night after night when he was initially imprisoned , he took delight in imagining the chaos he was going to bring into her life. She was going to suffer, no doubt of that. Even if it led to a further term of imprisonment, he had decided it would be worth it. Trying out different plans and ideas in the inner landscape of his imagination.
He had never liked his cell mate, even though they had shared the same small claustrophobic space for many years. He like most of the inmates of the prison could not be trusted. He was a big man, with the grillezed face of hard living. A wild beard, small dead angry eyes, devoid of life. He was quiet sure the warden had put them together purposely, to make doing time, even harder and more unpalatable than it already was. He had spoken to one or two, that he trusted in the religious group, who visited from the outside on a weekly basis, of his plans for revenge. They had listened with patience and understanding. But were also shocked and taken aback by the strenght of his resolve to inflict pain, and bring chaos and mayhem into the life of his ex-wife.
They had gently pointed out the possible consequences of such a course of action. The possibility of never having the opportunity to renew and reignite the relationship with the young daughter who had turned her back on him. The futility of holding onto such anger and bitterness, for situations from the past. They had counselled forgiveness. The more he spoke with those from the religious group, the more at peace he felt. The burning , fervent desire for revenge easing somewhat. He had taken to reading the Bible on a nightly basis, helped him not he did not feel so alone.
He had taken a particular shine to her. The softness of her voice. The kindness and gentleness she exuded. Her willingness to listen to his angry ranting and raving, with great patience. Never would he have believed he could ever trust or even like a woman again in his life. But she was different. Perhaps being a long time member of the visiting religious group, was the reason. Or maybe her sense of peace and contentment came from turning to God. He was unsure. Those wide soft, kind and innocent eyes. The sense of peace and contentment that was wrapped around herself like some sort of comfortable overcoat. She also had become enamoured by him . By his seething masculinity. But she sensed beneath the hard exterior. Beneath the gruffness, and palatable sense of explosive violence, lay a decent man, dealt a bad deal, by life.
He began to look to the future, perhaps their future together, with a sense of hope, and anticipation. Maybe life was going to be okay, after all.

The brutal rattling of the cell door, roused him from his imaging. His size filled the frame. On either side, stood his two protectors, permanent attachments, it seemed like.
He glanced at his cell mate, who smiled callously, and slowly removed himself out of the cell, and onto the prison cell landing, and into the recreation area. Here was the man, who actually ruled the prison. The governor and prison guards may have believed they ruled the prison, but not so. His large black frame, toned and muscular from many months training in the prison gym. The bald, shaven head, and pristine white teeth. Not snarling, surprisingly, but smiling. The acne scarred face.

He strood into the small prison cell as if he owned it. His reputation for violence and nastiness preceded him. He wished to demonstrate his power to the remaining prison population, and remind them, he could do anything to anybody, at any time.

‘I believe your leaving us today. Aint that sweet for you’. His voice soft, but with an edgy undertone of menace.

I’m innocent, I should never have being in here, and I wont be coming back’.

‘In that case, I’d like to give you a gift, before you leave.’ He reached down and undid his belt and began to lower his prison issue jeans.

‘Grab him , and hold him face down on the bed, while I have some fun’, he commanded.

He could see what was coming, and without much thought to the consequences, smashed the shaving mirror close to him, and quickly picked up a sliver of the glass. He knew that he could not live with himself, if he allowed such emasculation to take place. After a brief violent struggle he implanted the sharp shard of glass into the neck of the prison king, who quickly fell to the ground, holding his neck. The sucking, gurgling sounds his jerking, shaking body made on its final journey, sickening.  The violent retribution he received from the two protectors and prison guards was swift and brutal. Thrown with force into the isolation cell, he asked for the Bible that had given him such sustenance. It was thrown in, and landed at his feet. He began to read, and again he thought of her. That softness and kindness, and wide innocent eyes

Deny.

 

Deny

Don’t you dare deny that you are sly, underhand and mean
Cruel and brutal, at times even obscene
You paint that face for others to see
Of happiness, joy comfort and peace
But for those of us who know you well
It’s a different side of you that we see

That side that likes to compete, defeat, undermine and destroy
To rob us of our joy
You categorize and label, and say we won’t be able
Never will we achieve, that which it is that we seek
You put us into boxes, and label us strange and bizarre

You never let up
How come you’re such a social failure, How come you don’t ever go out
Does no one like you, is that the issue
Please stop Father, you are only confirming my very own self doubt
Why can’t you be more successful, why can’t you be more impressive
Your not a child I wish to acknowledge, look at you, cant even make it to college
Your depressed you say, why don’t you confess
My evidence and judgement complete
Then I can rest easy, as I watch and silently laugh
As you squirm and look so uncomfortable in your seat
My never ending mission to seek and destroy
One step closer, towards being complete
As I categorize and diminish from my position up above
The labels and judgements I hand out to others
Are brilliant. They enhance my sense of self love, and self esteem
To the zenith of my happiness, You know what I mean

I push others down, stamp them into the ground
Because it raises me up to some higher ground
So brilliant am I, never can I do wrong
I leave a trail of damaged people and wrecked self esteem in my wake
Well these people will just have to find a way
To get themselves better for goodness sake

You commiserate with others, how tough it is for you
Having to deal with our unstable, unpleasant  personalities
Oh dear, what is it a man like you is supposed to do
Is it fair that you dare project your narcissistic characteristics
On those that are close to you

I can see what’s wrong with them, you scream
They are evenious, jealous, socially inadequate and unclean
It is like some nightmarish daydream, I must suffer for my sins
If only they were better, how easy my life would be
But all this time you never look within
To where the root of your unhappiness begins
Try looking inside yourself, maybe ask God to forgive you for your sins
If he has any sense, he won’t let you off that easily

For acting like a bastard, to some of the children who call you Father
Those you look to you, for sustenance, support and happiness
What do we find, but a man with a mind intent on pulling us down from grace
Who likes to compete, knock us off our feet, repeatedly
Until we can take no more, and really want to shut that door
We gain pleasure in finding ways
To seek revenge and settle old scores
If God won’t or can’t control this man, we’re gonna have to do
What it is what we can do, maybe try and wipe the slate clean

We will step back, step away, from people such as you
To those who like to tear us down, destroy our sense of self
They love to get inside our heads, and batter us near enough to death
Never happy are they, until they have spread their vile malicious ways
Onto others, and see them suffer too
Then they have reached their ultimate goal, this is what they do

So I say to any out their, in situations such as this
Realise that not all parents are well rounded individuals of sound mind, and good intent
Raising a family in an ocean of bliss
Many are vile, unpleasant individuals, incapable of looking after their young
They will destroy and tear you down, then act all innocent and clean
Deny the words they used, ever had any intent to be cruel and mean
But don’t you stand for that, don’t believe a word
It will just ease up for a week or two, and the cycle of abuse will begin again

Walk away, cut them out, if you can
Seek revenge if you must, you will be a stronger man
But don’t ever let them deny, that they are sly, underhand and mean
Psychotic, dysfunctional individuals, with a streak of nastiness
That has to be seen to be believed
Will I forgive…. sure eventually, for my own benefit
Will I forget, never. I will forever be on my guard
For such people who treat others with such disregard, for their mental and spiritual health
May God have mercy on them, for their sins.

Was it real ?

Interest

He passed her on the street. In the mid afternoon, the warm breeze uncharacteristic for this time of year. Global warming, he put it down to . She smiled , then looked away. He wanted her immediately, what man wouldn’t. The clear skin, the tousled light brown hair, that slim body. The tight, well fitting clothing. That way she had of moving, so attractive. A man magnet.
Would he be good enough. Would he be attractive enough. A woman as good-looking as that, surly she was already taken, Most probably she already had a rich well to do husband, or lover. He lusted after her, big time. Viewing her for only a few seconds. Already he was congiruing up images of making love to her, and proposing to her. Getting married, and the children thay would bear together. The future life they would share together.

‘What are you straing at me for ? losser ?’

Her brutal, cold and less than welcoming response, shock him from his reverly. Perhaps she was not the porcelin princess he had being imaging. Or was it a test. The test that some women throw out to men, to see if they can handle them and would they be strong enough to be a suitable future partner. Strong enough , not to pander to her nonsense.

‘Hey love, no need to get ahead of yourself. You just happen to be in the view of what I’m looking at. If that’s your attitiude, I would never be intersted in at you at all’.

She pouted, she glared and swore in response. Just revealing  more of her unattractive character. What man, aside from a masochist would be interested in getting involved with such a woman.

He passed her by, congratulaing himself on swearving a possible future rather unpleasent relationship, with an ultra high manintense woman, that would only end in heartbreak and hardship. Who needs that, he asked himself aloud.

He carried on down the street towards the open parkland in the middle of the city, welcoming the peace and sustence it afforded.