The Thorns Of Time
Thorns of Time
By:Shy DoveThe Rose bush limb sang through the air on its way to wrap around the child that stood stubbornly waiting. No tears, for tears were a sign of defeat. She would not allow them their escape, none could fall. Not even in private. I watched and my heart screamed for my sister to cry, to move, to run. My heart begged her to do anything, my fear so great that my breathing would stop. Nevertheless, she stood her ground, hated him from deep within, so deep that to this very day, she refuses to speak of it.
The quiet was so deafening that I heard the slight scrape of a leaf as it fell and landed beside me. Yet, my sister waited. She stood tall; her shoulders straight while making not one sound as the briers cut into her flesh. She exhibited not one ounce of the fear that consumed me.
She had won this battle by keeping this part of her from him. The long arms of the limb wrapped around her waist, encircling her arms before he yanked it back toward him. Rose bush thorns tore her skin, ripped her ragged, thin everyday dress before once again it landed around her body. This time he chose her legs.
The horror twisted its way around my heart, in a tight strangling type of hold. I watched and couldn't breathe. No one was ever allowed to leave the group that huddled around in a circle when the master of the house dolled out punishment. It was his moment, his time to shine above all others. His face would shine as he relished the fact that all his spectators were horrified, except the one who received the blows.
He stopped short of beating her to death. When her knees shook and she wavered, he would quit. She was ashamed of her knees as they shook, it was in her eyes that she wanted to take what he dished out, throw it back in his face, and suffocate him by keeping the release from him.
I didn't know until years later that our beatings were his way of gaining sexual satisfaction. I wasn't used to seeing the look that only happened in the darkness of night. The tears were shed, but not from his bed.
Evil claws at the devil's stall.
Shy Dove (c)2001copyright
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