Biographical Non-Fiction posted December 22, 2023 Chapters:  ...25 26 -27- 28... 


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Believe or not believe
A chapter in the book Spectre

Fantasy

by Lea Tonin1

The author has placed a warning on this post for language.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Santa comes a New Year in tow
The elves had finally let him go
Toys abound in Rudolph's glow.
Don't wait up or he won't show
 
Cookies and milk is Santa's gift
From us to him they'll be no rift
His reindeer's pull and make the lift
Into his bag his hand does sift
 
Ho ho ho his laugh you hear
The red clothed one no man to fear
Joy and laughter we hold dear
Live and love its real and clear
 
************************************
 
So I'm feeling a bit nervous today. Even taking my dog outside and walking amongst the trees, I was still nervous. It's not even my paperwork we're looking at yet. We've agreed to do my sisters first and so we are. 
Even though I know what a large chunk of it will say. There's always the unknown and that is what is making me nervous. What more will we find out? How much and how far does the corruption go? Perhaps more than we know.
 
I shall bring a lovely bottle of Sherri. I will share it with her and go through it bit by bit. I hate the feeling of fear. It makes me consider cowardice as part of the reason.  Really it's more about what is and what isn't. The sorrow for something that we've never had. A mother and a father who loved us. 
The blindness created with no guidance on how to survive in the world caused so many wrong decisions.  So much pain while learning the hard way. 
When I say abuse doesn't end when you leave your abuser, it's very true.  That legacy goes with you. It's a hard one to tear from your back. Ingrained reactions from years of an unhealthy upbringing. So much pain that could have been averted.
When I see other children out there, I wish to send a message. To hold up 'the real' like a picture. To say, "This is not all there is."
Then I wondered why there was so much I had to go through, why it was necessary.
 
Maybe, there is no reason why...
 
Maybe, there is only do....
 
*****************************
 

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you. May I speak with P please?" I asked, my heart smashing in my chest.

"Let me check if he's home yet. One minute dear."

"Thank God," I thought. "It's the right number." I went weak in the knees.

"He's coming dear, one moment." I heard a woman's laughter. The low voice of man and others chatting amiably in the background.

"Hello?" A guys voice answered.

"P?" I asked.

"That's the rumor," he answered.

"Hey P, it's-"

"I know who it is,' he interrupted. "Whazz up girl?"

"Uhm well, I'm sorry, I had no one else to call..."

"What's goin' on?" P asked.

"I...I have no where to go. Something bad happened and I have no where to go," I answered.

I could no longer stop the deluge of tears and I started to cry.  Control was no longer mine. I couldn't reign it in any longer, so I just let it flow.

"Hang on one sec," he said.

"Ok," I sniffed trying to stem the tears. I heard talking in the background, muffled unintelligible voices.

"Where are you at?" P asked.

"Near my old place," I answered.

"Ok, I'm not far from you. Just over the bridge. Dad has the van or I would come get you. Can you get here? It's like two miles from you.  Mom says its cool. You can come."  "Really?  Thank you so much!  I'll get there. Just give me the address. I'm walking so I won't get there right away."

"Ok," he said and gave me the address with easy directions.

I knew where I was going and knew I could get there. Thankfully, the rain had tapered off to a drizzle. Hopefully it would stop altogether. I began the walk, the walk that I would take me up the main road, toward the bridge, over the bridge to the first exit. Follow the exit up the hill until I go past two graveyards on the left and one on the right. First street on the right, first house on the right.  That's my target.

I was tired, but my feet were in decent shape. So I kept putting one foot in front of the other with a single goal in mind. Warmth, dryness and perhaps some food. When I finally hit the bridge the wind began to pick up along with the rain. Tiny darts of wetness slicing me from the side. Oh how mother nature can use her arsenal in very effective ways.

I leaned sideways into the wind and pushed myself forward. It seemed like centuries passed before I finally saw the other side of the bridge. Soaked and numb from my head to my toes, I could feel nothing anymore except the wind trying to push me over. I exited the bridge and began to walk up the hill toward the graveyards. My feet were packing it in. I knew they were even though I couldn't feel the pain. Approaching the graveyards, I felt my skin crawl. I didn't know if it was from the cold or from the graveyard or perhaps a combination of the two. I could see people toward the back of the graveyard flitting back and forth like flies. This did nothing to alleviate the creepiness of walking by this deceased occupied place. My journey past it made my feet move faster.

To the left and to the right was nothing but grave stones and old sleeping trees.  The dark people still running back and forth. Finally, the street lamp on the corner lit up my destination like home plate in a baseball field. Passing the graveyards, I felt a little bit lighter and slowed my pace just a tad to match my aching feet. The house looked cheery and welcoming. I could see people moving about within what looked like a kitchen. Attached to that kitchen was a large deck. I wondered if I should go there, or right around the front. I opted for the front door. Climbing the few steps, I opened the screen door and knocked politely on the wooden door. Sounds of movement and people chatting I could hear through the door. Finally the door opened and a very large woman answered with a questioning.

"Hello young lady.  Can I help you?"

*****************************
That truly was my last hope that night. Knocking on anyone's door that you don't know is tough to do and having to be vulnerable in a place where vulnerability could cause you pain, leaves you with a questioning about everyone and everything.  But those days were all about chances. Chances for and chances against.  We never know until we do.  Necessity is the mother of invention.
 
So I invented.




This chapter is from an autobio called Spectre book two in a trilogy. Book one is called Ghost. Both can be found in my portfolio should you wish to read. Please note, some chapters are hard to absorb. Reader discretion is advised.
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