| Biographical Non-Fiction posted November 7, 2023 | Chapters: |
...52 53 -54- 55... 
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Decisions can save or kill
A chapter in the book Ghost
The Chance
by Lea Tonin1
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
I'm listening to a song called Silent Lucidity it's from a band called Queensryche. The song always spoke to me as if to say,
"Watch in silence, learn in silence and silence gain lucidity."
Or simply put, "Don't talk so much...listen to what's being told to you."
Music is a fine conduit for sensitivity. Especially those with an extra sense. Music always pulled me, like the Shaman to the drums, and I gravitate toward music. Other things have an equal pull on like natural stones, forests, creeks, wildlife, the beauty of a waterfall, and the night's star bursting on a high plateau.
These sites draw me as well. Ancient civilizations, especially the land of Egypt. Even Atlantis and Lemuria. Anything old, anything natural and anything spiritual fascinates me.
I've always known that this life is just a ripple in a pond, a ring in a tree, a day in school and the bell rings at three.
We come designed to learn certain things. We come to the boot camp of souls to learn our lessons as quickly as we can and then go home. It takes a brave soul to live a life here. The most negative planet in god's universe.
Any people living or have lived, know that every one of you carries a warrior soul.
It works for me anyhow...but my younger self waits so let's bring her some of that light.
Shall we?
*****************************
I heard the front door click. My mother laughing, and my stepfather talking to voices I didn't recognize. The talking and laughter drifted upstairs several feet and walked across the floor.
Then I heard mother's eight-track player, as loud as she could make it, playing Elvis, "You ain't nothin' but a hound dog".
Wouldn't do me any good to ask them to turn it down. The last time I did, earned me a new lump on my head.
How to be selfish in one easy lesson. Meet my parents!
My frustration, fury and general disappointment in them as people never mind parents, had given me a sarcastic inner voice.
I've been relying on that voice lately whenever things get too dicey...I think of something sarcastic abs sometimes get an internal chuckle. Not always but in the interim, it helps.
When the racket finally calmed down It wasn't music I was hearing anymore. It was the moan of a man and the cry of a woman.
But not in a painful way. So I stuffed my head under my pillow and held it there until I heard the front door shut. Then all was silent. Finally, I could rest...it was only three a.m. after all.
While sleep took me painfully the thought occurred to me, "Just as soon as I can walk properly or I'm at Cadets, whichever comes first, I will talk to my friend/acquaintance...test the waters. Hopefully, it's warm.
When I woke the next morning, I was on my side which I couldn't do the day before...progress. I also knew that if I tried to move
pain would surely follow. So I turned on my tummy. I slid to the side again like I did the day prior and used my arms to push myself up and on my feet. Of course, the searing, stinging pain came pounding on my backside. I had to go examine my backside and then my wounds. I think it will be another day of baggy clothes.
Stepping into the bathroom I locked the door and pulled my nighty around my neck then looked. I was horrified! So bruised I was black in places. Some punctures still oozing. I was yellow to black. The darkest parts are in the shape of a belt buckle.
I couldn't hold back the tears anymore staring at myself and wondering still why. I didn't know why. It's just a world of bewilderment wishing I was never born.
That thought went to places I just didn't want to go. I let the tears fall anyway because there was no choice. They were coming whether I liked it or not.
I don't know how long I stood there like that crying. Mad at myself that I was crying when I just wanted to be mad.
Mad was better than sad. It gave energy, impedes to keep going! Sad you just stand there drooping like a thirsty flower. At the top of her lungs, "Coffee". I made it to the kitchen gingerly and made a pot of coffee.
I waited for the pot to finish I poured down their coffee and brought it to them. I started walking away when I heard my stepfather say, "How come you're walking so slow?" Then I heard him chuckle as I kept walking out their door. FURY!! "Thank you Asshole!" I thought.
Not sad anymore...
************************
I remember the anger. I remember the pain. I remember the hatred. I remember it all and it is the reason I'm able to write this. My anger and my annoyance that I remember all of it.
I am the family librarian it seems. My sister can count her memories on her hand. Sometimes I think maybe it's the better way.
Who's to say?
I'm listening to a song called Silent Lucidity it's from a band called Queensryche. The song always spoke to me as if to say,
"Watch in silence, learn in silence and silence gain lucidity."
Or simply put, "Don't talk so much...listen to what's being told to you."
Music is a fine conduit for sensitivity. Especially those with an extra sense. Music always pulled me, like the Shaman to the drums, and I gravitate toward music. Other things have an equal pull on like natural stones, forests, creeks, wildlife, the beauty of a waterfall, and the night's star bursting on a high plateau.
These sites draw me as well. Ancient civilizations, especially the land of Egypt. Even Atlantis and Lemuria. Anything old, anything natural and anything spiritual fascinates me.
I've always known that this life is just a ripple in a pond, a ring in a tree, a day in school and the bell rings at three.
We come designed to learn certain things. We come to the boot camp of souls to learn our lessons as quickly as we can and then go home. It takes a brave soul to live a life here. The most negative planet in god's universe.
Any people living or have lived, know that every one of you carries a warrior soul.
It works for me anyhow...but my younger self waits so let's bring her some of that light.
Shall we?
*****************************
I heard the front door click. My mother laughing, and my stepfather talking to voices I didn't recognize. The talking and laughter drifted upstairs several feet and walked across the floor.
Then I heard mother's eight-track player, as loud as she could make it, playing Elvis, "You ain't nothin' but a hound dog".
Wouldn't do me any good to ask them to turn it down. The last time I did, earned me a new lump on my head.
How to be selfish in one easy lesson. Meet my parents!
My frustration, fury and general disappointment in them as people never mind parents, had given me a sarcastic inner voice.
I've been relying on that voice lately whenever things get too dicey...I think of something sarcastic abs sometimes get an internal chuckle. Not always but in the interim, it helps.
When the racket finally calmed down It wasn't music I was hearing anymore. It was the moan of a man and the cry of a woman.
But not in a painful way. So I stuffed my head under my pillow and held it there until I heard the front door shut. Then all was silent. Finally, I could rest...it was only three a.m. after all.
While sleep took me painfully the thought occurred to me, "Just as soon as I can walk properly or I'm at Cadets, whichever comes first, I will talk to my friend/acquaintance...test the waters. Hopefully, it's warm.
When I woke the next morning, I was on my side which I couldn't do the day before...progress. I also knew that if I tried to move
pain would surely follow. So I turned on my tummy. I slid to the side again like I did the day prior and used my arms to push myself up and on my feet. Of course, the searing, stinging pain came pounding on my backside. I had to go examine my backside and then my wounds. I think it will be another day of baggy clothes.
Stepping into the bathroom I locked the door and pulled my nighty around my neck then looked. I was horrified! So bruised I was black in places. Some punctures still oozing. I was yellow to black. The darkest parts are in the shape of a belt buckle.
I couldn't hold back the tears anymore staring at myself and wondering still why. I didn't know why. It's just a world of bewilderment wishing I was never born.
That thought went to places I just didn't want to go. I let the tears fall anyway because there was no choice. They were coming whether I liked it or not.
I don't know how long I stood there like that crying. Mad at myself that I was crying when I just wanted to be mad.
Mad was better than sad. It gave energy, impedes to keep going! Sad you just stand there drooping like a thirsty flower. At the top of her lungs, "Coffee". I made it to the kitchen gingerly and made a pot of coffee.
I waited for the pot to finish I poured down their coffee and brought it to them. I started walking away when I heard my stepfather say, "How come you're walking so slow?" Then I heard him chuckle as I kept walking out their door. FURY!! "Thank you Asshole!" I thought.
Not sad anymore...
************************
I remember the anger. I remember the pain. I remember the hatred. I remember it all and it is the reason I'm able to write this. My anger and my annoyance that I remember all of it.
I am the family librarian it seems. My sister can count her memories on her hand. Sometimes I think maybe it's the better way.
Who's to say?
 Recognized |
The story is part of an auto bio called Ghost. It can be found on my portfolio. If you wish to read. To digest reader discretion is advised.
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