A dark story of history repeating

A male child, born with no given name, to a mother than cried heavily at the mere sight of him. He was forever a contanst reminder of his father that forcefully planted his seed within her virgin womb before disappearing into the depths of night, leaving her shivering and broken. What chance did this child have when even his mother found the sight of him abhorrent? She couldnt love and nourish him, and so he found himself abandoned to the mercy of whoever could.

He was named Samuel by the elderly woman that would call herself mother, though he refused to accept either. He fought her love, rebelled against the sanctuary of homeliness she’d created for him. The years of his growing were a constant struggle, and yet she refused to abandon him as his mother had. Even when his school refused to educate him she stayed at home in order to school him.

He resented and despised her, and yet with each passing year an infatuation grew within him. There was something within his DNA that compelled him to obsess over being around her at inappropriate times. He would spy through the keyhole as she undressed, and yet would refuse to join her at the table come tea time.

It was upon a random evening late in the year, rain lashing down upon the panes of glass and the occasional flash of lightening illuminating the otherwise dimly candle lit room that he appeared before her as she was in a state of undress.

Instinctively she cowered away, covering any exposed flesh from his unblinking eyes, and yet he reached out and pulled at her night blouse. As she fought his advances, sharp nails scratched her breasts drawing crimson lines across them. Crying in shock and pain she could do nothing as he exposed them, his hands gripping tightly the area directly around the nipple.

As the tears rolled heavily from her heartbroken eyes, and her requests for him to stop went ignored, he forcefully pushed her backwards onto the bed. She knew what was coming next, and yet was unable to stop it. Pain soared through her body as he entered her. Emotionless he satisfied himself within her as she sobbed uncontrollably, her clothes torn and blood flowing from the wounds received as reward for her attempting to resist.

He said nothing as he left. A dark figure disappearing into the depths of night, leaving behind a broken elderly woman whose womb began preparing for the unwanted gift she’d been given.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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When

When your fears turns to tears, and dreams crumble into decaying debris.

When salvation becomes the barrel of a loaded gun and you drink your poison to numb the pain.

When every fibre of you soul is manipulated like a marionette’s strings, pushed and pulled beyond you will.

When a heart doesn’t break, but it cracks and shatters into millions of pieces lifting into the night sky to join the stars.

When the words have been spoken and all feelings gone.

That is when it’s the end.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Finding Reason

‘Understanding’

To my left stands an Angel tending to my tears. “What did you do?” she asks soothingly.

On my right a Devil. “It’s not your fault!” he says rubbing my shoulder with his talloned hand.

Like an island isolated by a maddening sea, I stand resolute understanding their words, yet let them fall upon my ear, waves upon a rocky shore.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Remembered

Upon your leaving,

A distinctive shape of you,

Remained gaping as you left my heart.

Time heals

Makes you forget

Then a passing figure

A glimmer of remembrance

Eyes that pulled me in

Distance parts you

Out of sight out of mind

But I remembered you

A twinge in my rebuilt heart

You walk away

Leaving me a ghost to my emotions

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Trapped

I feel the hurt portrayed in your eyes
The spiralling descent into nothingness
An abyss of depression
The fight lost
Over as exhaustion consumes you

The rut you were once in widens
Looking up from a chasm of constant similarity
Everything’s the same
The wheel of time turning
Fragments of yourself trodden underfoot

There is no anger to consume you
The fires of emotion extinguished long ago
An empty shell
Meandering along
Trapped like a slave to a life confined

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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I’m done

I need to make them stop,

The voices and the visions,

I’m going deaf as well as blind,

Yet I cannot shake them.

So I call time,

Close the doors.

Perhaps when I stop listening,

Stop paying attention to them,

They will leave me alone to focus,

Because for now……..I’m done.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Competition Entry #3

Darkest Fear

“There are some relationships that are worth lying for.”

That’s exactly what Grace had been doing for the past two years, lying to the man of her dreams, her soul mate.

It was only six months until the wedding and she’d still not had the courage to sit down and tell him the truth about why she hadn’t yet fallen pregnant, despite actively trying almost every night.

The very thought of being the size of a beached whale, stretch marks and swollen ankles frightened her. More so than any horror movie. Then there’s children themselves. Little dependent wrinkly crying breast sucking Satans. They were not much better getting older.

Could, or would, Grace face her fears for the sake of her relationship? Or would she let the man of her dreams walk away for fear of ruining her vagina?

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Kiss Goodbye

He held her in his arms, the warm gentle rain helping to mask the tears in her eyes, but he knew they were there.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispered, knowing that she asked of him the impossible.

Saying nothing, he pressed his lips against hers. There in that moment, they kissed passionately as if it was their first and last.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Despair

The vulture that was work did not notice his downward spiral and inward screams of pain, instead carried picking away at what was left of his battered and bruised carcass. “One day,” he thought as the last remnants of his sanity evaporated to nothing. “I’ll look back and ask myself ‘was it worth it?'”

Today can be summed as: Standing precariously upon an old wooden chair, the hangman’s noose around my neck. The sun shines and a gentle breeze kisses gently my face, though my mind is too focused to appreciate it. Any minute now an unseen foot is going to kick away the chair, and as I swing within the last throws of life I’ll think, “What a lovely day!”

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Cancer….Fuck You

So some of you may have noticed I’ve been a little sketchy and absent from here for a while. That’s because life has a way of kicking you in the ball sack when you think you may have turned a corner.

Last Saturday, the day before Mother’s day and a handful of days after her 61st birthday, my mother lost her long fight against cancer. She past away in hospital, where the medical staff did everything they could in easing her pain and making her comfortable.

So yes, I’ve been absent, but I’m sure you’ll agree it’s been with good reason. There is no need for condolences, or prayers, because I know you will feel compelled to write something. All I ask is that you go and get regular checks so that your family aren’t one day left grieving as mine are.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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