I was just a child.

 

I was just a child.

Why do my memories seem just seconds old when they are years ago?

The murmur of angry voices floods my room, swirling, mixing into the darkest hidden shadows, huge, they find my secret hiding places. I hide, but they pierce my soul, I hear… oh, I hear.

This is a place I dread; I’ve been here many times before. I press my ears with my hands and bedding to stop the sounds.

I pull my clothing tight, seal my ears with my little hands, but the storm is rising before me overwhelming; no one can stop the thunder. 

Dark, boiling clouds shut out any light, any hope.

A clap of thunder loud as a hand strikes a face, a deep thud, like tree limbs hitting the ground, a body blow, the rush of air as lungs collapse from another blow.  Tinkling shards of glass, Mother’s tears.

Doors slamming like the boom of thunder that shakes the house.  The roar of the engine fades in the distance. 

“I was just a child.”

From the Ramblings

t