The Unending Night

I walked through the dark doorway. I heard the dog frantically bark. The smell overwhelmed me, wet dog and other strange things that I could not identify. I saw the dimmed lights as I entered the dining room, they were tinged with yellow. The brown, dull panelling lining the walls made the room feel pressingly small. Wallpaper chipped and peeling. I smelled him, it permeated the room. Sweat and grime, working man smell. The feel of his calloused, rough hands on my arm made me shudder. I was disgusted. As his hand tightened on my arm, his voice got more stressed, angry, loud. The dog barked, locked in a room. It was that sound that made me realise that I was really there. That this was not a dream, a figment of my imagination. Dreams do not come in dun brown with sickly yellow lights. He continued to yell. His voice getting louder, his words raining insults, trying to break me. I resisted what he screamed into my face. His words meant nothing to me. He squeezed my arm, like a vice on a piece of pipe. His eyes were wild in his head, like he was searching for my guilt, which no longer exhisted. His hair stood out from his head, wiry like a brush. A halo of dark curls, Satans angel had come. His squat trollish body was tensed and ready. I remember thinking, ready for what? It camne to me in that instant. I knew because the tension in the room had mounted, so thick that you could cut it with a knife. He screamed and yelled. I felt myself cringe back, a caged animal, afraid. Afraid not just for my body but also for my mind. It was a wire pulled tight and ready to snap. I didn't know how many more of the hurled insults I could take. I stretched my muscles. The cornered animal attacked. Visciously I turned around. If he was going to hurt me he was going to have to catch me first. I ran out of the yellow tinged room and into the darkened hallway. I ran as I had never run before. Claustrophobia had set in and I had to get out. My heart was pumping so fast I thought that it might explode. I had an idea that might be better than what he had in store for me. I welcomed it. I careened around the corner out of control. I slammed the screen door behind me, hoping to slow him down. He crashed right through it. He the bull, I the matador. He came after me into the cold, starless night. It was over. The fight would never be won by a coward like myself. I had allowed myself to be caught. The game was over, or so I thought... He rounded on me. He shrieked the last words that I would hear out of his putrid mouth that night, directly into my face. The moon broke throught the clouds, brightening the world around me with a gentle glow. I noticed the lone willow tree at the edge of our property. I thought about being that tree, strong, immovable, proud. He spat into my face screaming, "If only I could hit you!" I rounded on him. I swallowed my disgust and revulsion. I turned and stood nose to nose with the giant of my nightmares. I stroked his stubbled, cruel face as I secretly gagged on my own bile. I kissed his dirty cheek, pushing through the man stench. I realised that this all came from a little bullie's attempt to have fun. "Why don't you try dad?" I whispered with scorn. I lashed out at him. Smashing my fist over and over into his face. The feel of his blood on my skin was like silk. The crunch of bones a delightfull symphony. He was broken and bleeding on the lawn. His blood splattered like dewdrops on the grass at my feet. The irony is not lost on me. Dew signifies the beginning of a new day. His dew signified the beginning of a new life. I walked slowly away, so that he could see my retreating back for as long as possible. I was free. I had released myself from his guilt filled torturous prison. As the gravel of the driveway crunched beneath my feet I walked to the car. I remembered everything that he had ever done to me, and felt proud. I had punished the punisher. I drove out of the valley, hitting the top of the neverending hill. The stars came out, shining brightly between the clouds. I basked in the realization that no one can hurt me unless I let them. I chuckled to myself and drove off into the night. Maybe life wasn't so bad after all.Well, I know that this isnt really a poem. I am aware of that. However I feel the need to get stuff off my chest sometimes so here it is. A story of justice and hatred. Not sure if Im really proud though. I kind of sunk to his level. Oh well. Hope this at least made you realise that stuff like this happens everyday. If it's happened, or is happening to you, feel free to let loose and get yourself out of bad situations. I hope this helps you as much as it has me. Thanx. Written January 16th, 2002 © on Jan 16 2002 09:50 AM PST   0 • 10