Memories Fantastically Turn Nightmarish
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Memories Fantastically Turn Nightmarish

My first childhood memory

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Like a fairy, I was mischievous and loved to cause my parents hearts to go a flutter. A staircase of fine craftsmanship separated the first in second floors in the foyer. The dark wood smooth enough for a ride down on my tummy. An 18th century ornate banister had to shoulder a little girl sliding down grasping for her life, but crawling back up to continue the adventure. In a child’s memory the stairs went on forever and seemed the perfect steepness to get attention.

Dinner had my mom’s cooking on the table while my dad drank his beer. Father believes that no one should eat really late at night that made dinner around six o’clock in the evening. Food that night was not what I really wanted. The vegetables were icky and my dad left in an annoyed manner after telling me I would get nothing else to eat.

I wasn't fussy about bath because the clawed-tub was my white porcelain pool. There was fun found in splashing from one to the other in sloppy strokes, while mummy watched on from the toilet seat in the right hand corner of the upstairs bathroom.

After swimming, mom wrapped me up in a gigantic towel and dressed me for my 8 pm bedtime. I had not eaten much dinner, naturally my tummy let our a little roar.

"Mummy, I ungry."

"Let's see what we have downstairs." Mom believes in feeding a child when they are hungry.

She hoisted me up and carried me down the mahogany staircase into the kitchen.

"What would you like," she asked while lovingly placing me in my highchair.

"Dahdee," I question with puzzled eyes.

"Don't worry about him, this will be our little secret," she smile.

"Fwoot Opps," pointing enthusiastically towards the red box that sat on the counter.

Mother started washing leftover dishes from dinner while I dove into my sugary treat.

"Mow," slapping my arm on the white highchair's surface. My attitude didn't faze her as she poured another bowl. There is only so much sugary greatness a three year old can conquer. She maneuvers the half empty bowl and me upstairs without holding onto the carved railing. We turn left into the bathroom where she pours the remnants of both our sin into the toilet. But, in her haste to tuck me in before dad returned she forgot to flush away the evidence.

My bedroom door is accessible through the main bedroom. By the time she made it downstairs there was little time to wash the bowl before a slammed door announced father.

My room was drafty causing me to snuggle under my covers. Moonlight crept in, creating shadows on the wall turning the stone fireplace into a cold and distant object. Scrapping was heard above my head, coming from a window, meaning the oncoming storm of my imagination was about to brew. Cuddled under my blankets and hidden from monsters, sleep finally embraced me. Monsters haunted me for hours but in reality I was probably asleep in ten minuets.

Loud noise coming from directly below jerked me out of a peaceful slumber causing my imagination to turn for the worst. My body became rigid with fear by swirling thoughts.

Is thew somwon inside we don't know?

Is somwon huwting mummmy an dahdy?

Stwangwer!

"Monstwer!"

"Don't die."

Blankets drawn tight to my face in hopes the yelling would stop. Shadows dance around my room daring me to be eaten. A thump and my body tensed into action. I climb out of bed with the headboards help to lower myself down without making a sound. Slowly, I tiptoe across the wooden floor being careful to not make a squeak.

Bang.

Crash.

Yell.

I was held captive by fear in my parents' room. My mother's voice was wobbly with maddened tears and my dad's was full of controlled anger.


Father had seen the dirty bowl in the sink. Then he saw the pink milk mixed with happy colored circles floating in the white toilet. His brown eyes had likely turned black with anger and alcohol. He has a temper and wants everything his way. He is the reason my mom was off her bi-polar meds that night. He may have a PHD but he's not entitled to give medical advice. My mom's madness knew know bounds that night.


Mom’s loud pain filled grasp.

Dad’s angered yell.

Crash.

My little legs move again at the sound and my shaky fingers slip into my parents cracked door. Slowly opening the door just wide enough to slip my thin body through, I tiptoed down the small hall onto the landing. The sounds were much scarier this close but I couldn't see what was happening.

Ringing smack.

Mother wailing.

Dad’s thunderous footsteps.

Shakily, I sit down on the landing with my bare feet tip toeing the first step. Slowly, I slip my bum down, softly landing on the top step. My knees tuck under myself so that my body could be turned to face the living room. My little hands hold two wooden pillars that support the banister.

The image painted before me could not be explained by tree branches scraping on the window or the moon’s light playing tricks; no, this image of my mother kneeling on the floor while my dad held the white phone over her was not a nightmarish dream.

Phone makes contact with mom.

Dad brings his arm back up holding the talkey bit of the phone suspended.

My body…paralyzed.

Thoughts are no longer in my frozen mind and my body is unwilling move. Little hands grip the dark wood with a white death hold.

Scared.

Why?

Mummy.

Stop.

NO!

Silent tears fall down my face as daddy makes another swing hitting her in the back. Mind is gone. Body can’t seem to move. This can’t be real. It is a dream. The monsters have come.

Bang.

Scream.

Thud.

There are no pauses anymore to ask his wife pointless questions, as he brings the phone up and down on mummy.

Scared.

Please move.

My body finally gives into my flight mode, but staying quiet incase he turns those black eyes on me. Trembling body crawls through the cracked doors and climbs back into bed. My blanket fort offers no solace from the monsters this night as I curl into myself, silently crying myself to sleep.


Sometime after exhaustion lent me sleep, my mom was able to escape. She had to leave me behind, because my dad would never let her leave with me. She drove to her father’s house where photos were taken of an almost dead body.

Several days later, Mama and Grandfather brought cops to gather me from my dad’s care. Alcohol and a closed mind can leave a man wiped from his family.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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