Black Angels

Thursday, October 20, 2011

The Days of Darkness

The Days of Darkness by Bari Demers

A Fictional Short Story

(Fictitious disclaimer :all persons portrayed in it are fictitious Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.) All rights reserved. No part of this manuscript may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical,photocopy, recording or otherwise without the written prior permission by J. Robb Montana.

The Days of Darkness by James Montana

The days of darkness are imprinted in my past, just like it was yesterday.

To this very day I remember the sour smell of whiskey bottles lying on the floor beside the couch where my mom was sleeping. Her limp body lay motionless with her right hand grasping the twenty-sixer as if it were her life line.

I was doing what most five year old would do, playing with my new GI Joe on this cold winter day.
 It was late afternoon when my stomach began to growl, quickly realizing noon hour past.
 In our house we never ate breakfast, so lunch was a big part of my routine. My thin little body was so starved with malnutrition it wasn't uncommon to faint.

 I stepped quietly into the living room of our small home, looking for my mom. I knee quietly beside her, reached over and nudged her arm to wake-up. She moaned but didn't move, so I used all my might to shake her. The reaction was over whelming to say the least.  My mom swung her arm into my chest, knocking me flat on the floor. It didn't hurt thinking it was some sort of game. I quickly got up and jumped on top of her, yelling," Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Get Up!"

Had I realized this wasn't a game my instincts would have kick-in, but not this time.

It happened all in slow motion, wakening  mother bear. She grabbed  me by my arms, feeling intent pain, swinging me over her shoulders and racing me back to my room.

My weak little body was plunged into the darkness of a closet filled with dirty laundry and empty whiskey bottles. I just remember the pain in my back as I hit what must of been the whiskey bottles. The bedroom door slams shut and then complete silence once again.

The pungent smell was so overwhelming it made me gasp for fresh air. It wasn't long before pressing my face up against the cracks of the folding doors.

 A river of tears streaked my face with stains," MOM! OH MOM! Please Mom..." is vivid in my mind this very day.

 It wasn't long before I fell asleep, hours past before waking up to find my mom tucking me in my bed.

She washed my face with a wet washcloth, removing dry-stain tears from swollen cheeks. My mom very carefully slide her fingers across my long bangs, she kissed my forehead," I'm so sorry...can you forgive me Dex?" I nodded in satisfaction, knowing my mom's nicer personality had come to visit her son.

What seemed like a lifetime of abuse has been itched in my mind for eternity on those days of darkness.

(Fictitious disclaimer :all persons portrayed in it are fictitious Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.)

See more short stories and screenplays by Bari Demers

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