08 March 2014

Henry (75 words)



When he died  everyone assembled at his mother’s house after the funeral  to fellowship and talk about how good a man he was.  Everyone had wonderful stories to tell, and I wondered who this man was they were talking about. They couldn’t have been talking about my father;  was this the same man who  poisoned me and who bent me over an ironing board  beating my ass immediately after my  mom went to work everyday?

2 comments:

Rhapsody said...

hmmmmm......
People are different with different people and depending on whom you ask the story, the description, identification of the seemingly same is paradoxically complex.
We have many facetted faces, a multitude of identities that change depending on life’s demands/requirements. It is a kaleidoscopic mask that is every changing, transforming succinctly.
You lover that feeds your soul, ignites your mind and body can be my enemy, my torturer, my executioner.

Peace…
Have a blessed week.

Alieux (Daij) said...

Repeating the last sentence-was this the same man who poisoned me and who bent me over an ironing board beating my ass immediately after my mom went to work everyday? He called me every name except my own. I was hospitalized with an intestine infection and lost 25 pounds due to his poisoning me. He treated my sister (and everyone else) like priceless porcelain. When he and my mother would argue he would take it out on me the second she left this house. He made me take scalding hot baths. And all of that is the least of what he did to me. Yes, that person everyone was talking so nicely about was a complete stranger to me, and to this day my sister refuses to believe the Henry I experienced never existed. You have a blessed week too.