Photo by Kyle Thompson
Maybe it’s being locked in the closet. Maybe it’s the surprise knuckles to the middle of my back. Maybe it’s seeing my breath on the air as I curl under the thin blanket. Maybe it’s his forcing himself into me.
The day of my liberation it is mid-January. Daddy is drunk, as usual, and when daddy drinks he gets even meaner. When his sinewy grip digs in to my arm, he tells me to walk to town and, “fetch me whisky, you little b*st*rd,” I dress up in my worn boots, tattered coat, and gloves, walk outside, and grab the axe.
Daddy is snoring when I put him to sleep.
Up the creaky stairs I climb afterwards, a little warmer now from the exertion. I light the kerosene lamp, toss it on my lousy mattress, and walk downstairs and out, into the dusk.
I watch her burn for awhile, until my toes are numb, then turn around and head in to town. I feel a pang of regret as I know not a soul on earth will mourn the old man’s passing.
[185 words]
Image by Jocelin Carmes
Carrie is the host of The Sunday Muse.
Tao Talk 
Brilliant.
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Thanks, Ron! Much appreciated.
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Gave me a chill. Goes to the bone.
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Thanks, Colleen.
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This really struck my heart with the intense emotions of what it holds. Amazing writing Lisa!
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Carrie, thanks very much.
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Wow, Lisa, that’s some heavy stuff! Domestic abuse is so horrible and when you add alcohol, it gets even worse. While I don’t support violence, it’s not hard to see why the daughter did what she did. And I certainly don’t feel sorry for that bastard!
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Christian, thank you. The child is a son in this story, which may make it even worse.
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Not sure why I thought the child was a daughter when your picture clearly shows a boy. In any case, it’s a pretty horrible tale that sadly happens all too often in reality.
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I can’t say that I liked to read this in print, pretty raw, child beating, rape and arson.
I had a mean father also, but he didn’t treat me sexually bad but beat me a plenty. He was that way to my mom too, but all of a sudden, he changed, we all went to church. He never hurt my mom that I knew but still suffers his beatings and boxes on my ears. Incidentally, in our two-bedroom home I was then sleeping on the front porch after my sister was born. My grandfather and Dad glassed it in, but it wasn’t heated or airconditioned. On cold winter nights I would wake up with frost on my covers around my head. I didn’t mind that, it was what we had.
..
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Jim, I’m sorry you suffered at the hands of your father, and I’m glad he finally stopped hurting you.
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I had a neighbor, when I was little, who was the oldest of three children… and a daughter (the only daughter). She was given a glassed-in side porch, which sounds like your room; was the first place I ever heard of a feather bed (an item she used as a blanket and seemed happy about). I remember the space as cold. I don’t think there was any violence, but her brothers were sent to private schools while she went to public schools. The family weren’t rich, but they also rationalized why she didn’t need the better education. She accidentally married into violence, found out on her wedding night. But she got out (with no help from her parents).
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A hard story to read and think about. Goes on way too much with everyone looking the other way…(K)
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Excellent writing Li.
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Thank you, Sadje ❤
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You’re most welcome
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Holy sh*t, Lisa. Amazing. The
feels so real to me…
❤
David
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David, thanks ❤
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Unexpected but with a sting in each word.
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Thank you, Wyndolynne.
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Powerful writing, and as always, masterfully crafted!
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Thank you, Irene ❤
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And so, his new life began. Your words and the boy’s picture were made for each other.
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Keith, thank you very much, yes.
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Damn! I like the way you brought the two images together. It really does look like he’s looking at the house burn, with all the ashes on fire coming down around him!
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Thanks, Q.
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wow so powerful Li! So so powerful! I loved it! ❤
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Carol Anne, thank you. It’s a story that is played out too often but the victim too often never leaves 😦
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Good riddance to him…. you get what you give.
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Thanks, Max.
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Yes. So chilling. Beautifully written.
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Thanks much, Susan!
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Powerful, chilling, and sounds like there’s a lot more to the story.
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Susie, thank you, and I’m sure there is.
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Life in a state of sorrow. Excellent!
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Thank you, Sara!
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