childhood

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
dream laden remembrance

Submitted: January 23, 2014

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Submitted: January 23, 2014

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My childhood. It all started with the veil of wonder being torn from my toddler eyes. Darting glances at unimaginable gibberish. Lurking everywhere but in-between the cracks of my imagination. i felt an outside force pushing my body into action. Creating its own path for my life. Which at the time felt far from my own. Out of body aging. My actions attached to strings from above. My thoughts racing, too agile to catch with a sail of ambition. Alarmingly, sooner then expected this presence vanished. Now for once in my life having some control over my thoughts and actions. I feel famished and restrained. Left out at sea, in uncharted waters. My old mentor long gone. Still finding my sea legs. A sunrise at a time i tell myself.
 
Dark has now arrived and my find my green eyes growing heavy. With out my shield and ally i find myself vulnerable. I fight for this last breath without fear. I have now fallen. The shifty walls and parades of laughter swallow my thoughts. Swimming through the depths of my young madness. My tantric breathing fills my lungs slowly. Under my bed, two red lights. Seperated by a level inch. The silence beckons my heart to thump loudly. The fiery lights grow closer. Crawling backwards unable to stand. My back is pressured to stay vulnerable. The glow of the red lights reveal a face. Between the lights was a smooth nose with two wrinkles. a furry brow made stiff by a grimacing face. my feet hit a wall. Here i am on hands and knees. Staring at a reoccurring hooded evil. Its always the same. A creature smiles with teeth of broken glass. I reach out my hand for protection. A sharp pain shoots up my arm. I have been bitten. Then another sharp pain. The evil has stabbed me with a knife. I awake. 
 
Still in pain. My hand scarred. Drowning in my bed sheets. Anxiety forces a heavy breathe. "Welcome to this harsh world". A voice echoes in my head. Another says, "Don't listen to him he has just forgotten what its like to be young". Gripping my stuffed animal. I wish for the back and forth chatter to stop. I lie motionless listening. A laughing voice, a kind voice, a distant voice, an angry voice, and for my sanity, some reassuring wise guy. The sunrises. My childhood, all but this last memory. Too distant for me to grasp. I can say i was treated well. Always loved. Nurtured too exhaustion at times. Given enough freedom of expression to realize how important it is to a child. In one phrase my childhood was fancy free fun. Minus the night terrors.


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