• In Another Existence - Similarities (A Response to the Monster Abductor)

    I scream. I’m running and running, I tumble and fall.
    I turn around in horror, the monster approaching with practiced slowness and sadistic ease.
    I turn and run, run down the dark halls that seem endless.
    I can hear your footsteps, your breath on my neck.
    I stumble yet again, trying to crawl away in vain, tears falling down my face like rain from a black sky.
    You’re laughing now; the laugh of a crazed psychopath.
    You ask me if I’m scared with that fake concern in your voice, the one you use that has the evil intent hidden just below the surface.
    Your special voice you save just for me.
    You ask me if I want to play with that faux sweet voice, ask me with feigned hurt why I’m ignoring him.
    I will my legs to run.
    “Mommy!” I try to scream, but the monster stole my little voice away.
    He laughs as a strangled cry comes from my little mouth.
    My little legs work and I run to my bedroom, slamming the door and shoving my little rocking chair under the fake gold handle.
    I know that won’t help against the monster, and I cower under the bed with Dolly.
    My only friend in the whole wide world that won’t ever hurt me like Daddy does.
    I flinch and whimper as the door handle turns, then the rocking chair being pushed into the wall like it was a rag doll.
    Daddy stands in the doorway, a sweet smile on his face.
    I try and stop my heart from being so noisy, but it beats like a drum from my little bruised and battered chest.
    I hear Daddy laugh like he’s found my hiding spot in a game of hide and seek.
    He walks across the floor, his big footsteps echoing.
    “M-Mommy!” I want to cry out.
    Has Daddy hurt you too?
    His scary big hands reach under the bed and drag me out.
    Daddy slaps my little cheek and punches my little stomach.
    My cries are muffled as he clasps a big smelly hand over my mouth and little nose.
    I can’t breathe.
    He slammed me against my wall and I drop Dolly to the floor. Daddy slams his big black boot on her, and she tears.
    Daddy punches me hard against the chest and I cough up blood on his hand.
    It hurts… Daddy, it hurts!
    He gets angry and throws me to the floor, and I land on my hand.
    Something in my little arm snaps and then it hurts. I scream for the first time.
    He tells me to shut up and kicks me in the side again and again.
    "It hurts! It hurts! Mommy, please come and make it better!"
    But Mommy never comes.
    Something in my side cracks too. A lot of cracks that hurt me so.
    I scream and scream until my little voice grows hoarse and finally Daddy stops, and picks me up gently, cradling my bruised and battered body.
    He murmurs in my ear that it is going to be alright.
    My eyes grow heavy and fuzzy.
    It goes dark.

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    In another life - another existence - if there were ever to be such a thing…
    A young man sits outside, perched on the branch of a tree,
    Thy body no more than a silhouette in the window pane barrier,
    Moonlight surrounding the ethereal figure that watches and waits in the night.

    If only it could’ve been.

    Barely even visible, despite the glowing red eyes containing judgment and vengeance.
    A friend in pain - a friend in need.
    He could only stand by and watch as the father continued his deeds.
    Yet he seemed to have a plan up his sleeve.

    If only it could’ve been.

    He thought to himself - what path would this action take?
    The consequences - what would they be?
    To no longer have a friend - yet to save her from her troubles.
    To potentially castigate and attain quicker vengeance.
    To maybe never growing up and acting in life the way she should’ve and would’ve.
    To change history as he knew it, would that be for the best?
    Or are things just fine as they are?

    If only it could’ve been.

    The monster quickly exits, stage right. The red-eyed monster exits stage left.

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    I wake up to beeps and a nurse with a kind face.
    She smiles and says “It is going to be alright.”
    My arm is heavy; I see a big cast on it. And bandages are on my small waist too.
    Later, another nurse comes in and says its time for me to leave and that I have a special visitor.
    It’s Daddy.
    He smiles at me with tears in his eyes, sighing and repeating, “Thank God you are okay, angel.”
    His façade dosent fool me for a second.
    It charms the nurse right away though, that fake concern and that sad and loving smile on Daddy’s face.
    He goes over to stroke my head.
    I yell at him to get off me, and I want Mommy to make Daddy disappear.
    But all I did was make a tiny croak.
    Hidden from the nurse, he gives me his scary smile and that crazy look in my eyes comes back, terrifying me into staying completely still. Warning me to be quiet and not tell.
    Like if I tell he’s going to do worse things then break my little bones.
    But then later he takes me home, cradling me in his arms. He keeps on thanking the nurses and doctor, and stroking my hair.
    I want to scream out, “Help me, Mommy! Help me, Dolly! Save me from Daddy!”
    But my voice was stolen away by the monster.

    As if in reply to her solid, silent plea -
    As though the vibrations were carried on a different frequency.

    If only it had been?

    The silhouette appeared yet again;
    Yet this time blindfolded.

    Which one was the true monster?
    The one who had acted similarly in his past?
    The one who was acting such now?
    The one who learned?
    The one who never learned?

    Or would it be the one who decided to change the past, in another existence.
    Or would it yet be the one who kept the things the same?

    Who wore a mask of emotional mystery?
    Who wore a mask of dense fog?

    Were either of them truly monsters? Or just succumbing to their desires?
    Without fear, concern, or worry of another one’s health, nor the consequences?

    So alike - and yet so different were these two, thought the boy clad in black,
    Left arm extending out to produce a cold camera.

    The nurse looked at the boy with curiousness.
    At the boy with yawn-like hair shrouded in mystery.

    “Take it,” said the boy, “and don’t let that man see it.”
    He held it out, in cautious manner, blindfolded eyes always set,
    Set on the man who held no conscious thought or emotional awareness.

    “Can people learn to be aware?” The boy thinks to himself.

    Evidence is always crucial. This he knew.
    And the boy had stayed with the scary monster of a man.
    Perhaps for the company. Or maybe to examine?
    His thoughts were not always for others to know.

    If only it had been…?

    Before the nurses had returned, the young man’s smile had unnerved the monster.
    As though he were the subject on the camera.
    He knew he had something to hide.
    He assumed the worst.
    This young man, whom he did not know, had been video taping - and seen his acts.

    “Can this be considered awareness?” Thought the boy.

    If only it had been…?

    The monster dropped the innocent girl -
    Who landed with such a loud ‘thud,’
    One that made the boy wince.
    And as quick as that, the larger monster was upon the younger monster.

    If only it had been…?

    The young man jumped to the side - and as God would have it…
    The nurses had return.
    Running - and then screaming.
    When the older man came out in a fury.
    Barely missing the boy.
    But unintentionally knocking one of the nurses to the ground.

    If only it could’ve been…?

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    His trial would be swift.
    His trial would be taut.
    His trial would not stand to be reckoned with.

    The boy would not be seen, or met from that day on -
    Never again.
    Would the girl see his shadow, nor his body.
    Neither hair nor fluid.
    Ever again.

    Should it have been, if it could have been…?

    She would be able to find peace - and maybe a new, better father.
    She would be able to grow up without the abusive one, at least.
    The mother - was she better off?
    And the others? They too?

    Was the young man better off for having changed the past?
    Or was it that he had lived in another existence?
    Who was he anyway?

    The nurse suffered amnesia when she awoke.
    Was this for the best?
    Was this for the worst?
    Would it be for the best later on?
    Or would it continue to be for the worst in centuries to come?

    Could her fate have been different?

    Should it have been different?

    Should the boy have interfered?

    Never should it have been.

    Maybe they could’ve been for each other?

    Which would’ve been better?
    For them and everyone else?
    Only time would’ve been able to tell.