Photo by Velizar Ivanov on Unsplash

‘Don’t look at that’, she screamed. ‘Material such as that is wrong, its sinful. It’s the work of the Devil. Keep looking at stuff like that, and you’ll end up in hell’.

With that onslaught I felt ashamed and embarrassed. My face redened. She left my room from where she had entered unannounced and unwelcome, and slammed the door. I knew she would not speak to myself for days. Her way of punishing her children when we got out of line, in her view. My body jumped as she slammed the door, and stomped down stairs, and again slammed the kitchen door.

To say she was angry was an understatement. But then she always seemed to be angry these days. I wonder was it because of her failing marriage. The public knowledge of her husband’s infidelity, and how she had that thrown back at her, daily in small town Ireland, by ‘helpful’ interfering neighbors and busy bodies. Minding  everyone’s business but their own.

But I was a young boy, exploring my sexuality. My body fully turbo charged up with male hormones and testosterone running through my body at speed. Desire and lust coursing through every fiber of my being, very hard to control at times.

Not helped, of course, by tales of sexual assignations successfully concluded by my school friends. Which they, with great joy loved to share with their friends, including those of us who were struggling to find a partner. Then to add to that we had everyone from the priest in the pulpit, to the nuns, to the government telling us, as a nation, as a generation of children that sex was wrong, nudity was abborant. The human body was to be hidden away. Biological desires were disgusting and evil, the work of the devil, no less. Were we to indulge in such matters, it was a royal road to hell we would be set upon, and for that there was no denying.

Of course looking back now, at the clerical sexual abuse and cruelty, has come to light, it does make one look hard and fast at such situations. Dismissive and questioning of the religious do gooders. Some I’m sure mean well, and do good. But many are dysfunctional, psychotic individuals, who belong if not in long-term prison, well then in long term psychological counselling.

It does not work denying a humans perfectly natural, and God given desires. Sexual desire is as natural as the feeling of thirst, hunger and fear. It’s when it’s censored and clamped down on. Pushed under the surface, that these desires morph into the more bizarre and extreme side of sexuality, which can lead to other issues. None of them good.

I was afraid. I felt bad. Like I had done something wrong. When all I had being doing was many young boys had done for years. Looking at and enjoying the female form in various states of undress. But now because it was wrong, according to those in the know. Because it was bad, and it was banned. I wanted to see it all. Especially the more extreme. It became my mission to travel, and view as much of it as possible. The more extreme and bizarre, the better. This of course before the internet and the freedom that affords young people today. So I did travel, and I saw what I needed and wanted to see, and that was ok.

Now if I want to see such films and images, it’s all here in my home at the flick of a switch. Just open up the laptop, and there it all is. Because it’s all there now, whenever, and if ever I want it. I can take it or leave it. Mostly I leave it. But its nice to know its available at any time, to view in private, anonymously, should I wish to.

Censorship, no not a big fan.

Written in response to a writing prompt. Censorship.


The Dentist.

Photo Credit :  photo-graphe on Pixabay.
Daily Prompt: Cavity.

‘Lay back’,

Those were the last words she remembered, before she lost consciousness. His tones soothing, comforting. She gently floated off to another world. A bright meadow, where sheep grazed in the mid afternoon sunlight. The crickets croaked by the nearby pond. She ran towards the horses grazing in the fields, and they stopped and slowly moved towards her.

Both white horses slowly approached her, not realizing how shy these large animals were. They were more afraid of her, than she was of them. They bowed the large, muscular  shoulders towards her, so she could stroke the warm manes. Which she did for a few moments. She noted the gentleness in the horse’s eyes, and felt safe, and secure.
The white horses moved towards her again, and she retreated from their advance.

‘No, Go Back’, she said loudly. Never afraid to speak her mind, as young children do. She slapped both horses across their nose’s to teach them a lesson. The horse’s kept coming, pushing her into the large nearby bushes, where she fell to the ground. She watched as the horse’s changed from the gentle white colour, to a malevolent dark black colour. The ir eyes became narrow and angry, and as they raised up on their hind legs above her.

She screamed, they laughed. They began to trample her into the ground, deeper and deeper, until she could no longer breathe. From under the ground she could hear the angry horse’s stamp on the ground above her. She struggled to free herself, but was unable to do so. She began to weep. Scared, alone and afraid.

‘It’s alright’, he said. His words comforting, and soothing. ‘It’s all over now’.

With that, he smiled at her,and helped her from the chair, and called the dental nurse, to guide her towards reception.

The Elevator.


Photo by DESIGNECOLOGIST on Unsplash

‘ Come in here, and we’ll take the lift ‘ . His voice gruff and commanding. It was what I expected from someone like him. The red checks, large beer belly, the result of much good living and little exercise. He was tall, and had the complexion of one who spent much time in the outdoors, and lived on a bad diet.
Like many of his age, he always wore a suit. It was just the way of it, for men of that time. The people round us hurried about their business. It was never the happiest of places. Too much human tragedy likely to happen here at any moment a distinct possibility. As was happiness and joy. Well more relief at the outcome, and then the freedom.
At last the lift arrived at the ground floor, the other’s exited it. Watching them it was hard to tell, how it went. Many people are hard to read. He went first then I followed. No one else decided to join us. The dull grey interior of the lift, badly in need of a clean, and spruce up. The ever present scent of disinfectant, that even now takes my mind back to that place. The double doors shut, with a resounding swish like sound. He reached over and pulled the inner gates across and the lift began it’s journey upwards. He never let go of the loosely wrapped plastic package he held under his arm. It looked soft, so I assumed it was clothing .  The lift silently make its way upward. After a few moments, he reached across and pulled the inner gates apart. The lift came to a juddering halt, and we both fell forward towards the grey steel doors. I looked at him, but his expression was plain, non committal.
He reached above my head to the copper colored control panel, that housed the different floor numbers and the open and close switches, an emergency phone, and the interior light, which he flipped to turn the interior to total darkness. I tried but could not see, not even my hand. I called out to him, but he did not answer. Alone in the darkness, I was afraid. Again I called out, but he did not answer.
It was unpleasantly warm to the touch. That rough hand on my bare thigh, as it slowly moved upwards. I silently cursed myself for wearing short trousers, as I cursed God for making the weather for being so warm. Then just as quickly I asked God if he would forgive me, for cursing him.
In the silence and the darkness, his breathing loud, fast and guttural. The scent of the earth, alcohol and cigarette smoke from him, sickening to my young senses. His movements were rough, brutal, and urgent. The soft package slipped from his grip, where he held it tightly, as he fumbled urgently at his clothing, and at mine. I struggled to escape, but in the small space I was trapped. He was stronger than I. The only sounds his moans of excitement, wrapped around quietly spoken swear words. It continued for a few moments. I closed my eyes and thought of the ocean, and the freedom it offered.
When he was satisfied, I tidied myself up in the darkness and the silence, as did he. Reaching across to the control panel, he flipped the switch, and the darkness turned to light. I knew the drill, not to look at him, nor speak. So I just stood facing away from him, and stared into a corner of the lift. He pulled the black wrought iron gates back together and the lift continued its journey upwards. When we reached our floor, we marched down the dull grey corridor towards the general ward.
She was sat upright in bed, reading the newspaper. Looking reasonably healthy, as the sun shone throw the windows. Everybody it seemed was in good form. That’s what the good weather can do. The nurses was smiling. The other visitors gathered round the beds of their relatives were laughing. It seemed like no one was really ill in the sunshine.
I followed behind him, as we approached the bed. She smiled and put down the newspaper, seeing us approach.

‘Welcome’ she said.

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