Sometimes we see ourselves as perhaps on mind one body and soul ..then there are glimpses shades of our emotions maybe …I would like to say Hello name is Martyn , I was born of that name of course though unchristened , my family didn’t hold with those acts …I have seen so much sorrow in life . .but still I keep going ..i was four when the first shade was cast against the light of me ..

Hiya im David I four I stay inside a man’s body my father and mother broke up , they dont like each other anymore I hear them fight and argue as I lay in the dark listening , I rock to feel safe …
Hi there my name is Sara ..i too feel trapped begin the glass of my teenage years I am a beautiful girl or so I was told , when my father and uncle put their hands on me I would just shut my eyes and lay motionless until I could see that they had sated their lustings …but i wish I wasn’t here this body is a mantle to destroying and hating , every day I carve another sin upon the flesh , but always with a free blade , my way of keeping this body this shell clean …

How are you I am Tyler a man in my own right maybe ? I am a warrior and champion for children and animals who have sadly seen so much hatred and cruelty …i dont belong anywhere , yet I find myself everywhere helping others but always putting my own needs to one side ..i am lonely and lost at times , and have seen my own insanity more times than I can recount …

Greetings dear friend name is Raven . .or my ” nom da plume” Celtic Raven , j am a creative poet and artist ..there is nothing more that I enjoy than seeing my own works be given a life of their own I write from many perspectives Gothic , Dark and Vampiric fantasia …i can create such beautiful moments within the written word ..i reside here and carve out my very personal niche as a Vampiric Author and Poet …

Maybe we all have shades. Does that light within burn even brighter for some that the shades need to be seen through the glow it casts …or maybe just maybe we each know the sorrows…


Shadows Child: Chapter one

Even now I can recall those memories of waking up that morning.  It was a very cold as it was Winter when I awoke, a nightmare that terrorised me every night woke me up into a screaming fit.

My sleep was disturbed every night and often I was in soaking and dirty mess and very frightened and confused, my nose running and eyes very sore I would always wipe my nose in my sleeve and the mucus stains dryly encrusted on the nylon fabric of my pyjama top.

Trembling from a mixture of the cold morning air and fear inside me as I could still recall the spectre in my dreams, of a tall dark figure very menacing would strike such fear in to me, voices inside my head resonate, “Where are you” the shouting continued “When I get my fucking hands on you” even though the nightmare was ended my heart was pounding wildly, thumping so fast that I couldnt breathe, feeling giddy, and my tummy hurts.

“Im going to kill you” The voices sounded very real to me as they echoed around inside my head. Moments relived repeatedly. The fear and anxiety replayed itself. “I can smell you, you pissy little fuck” the voice was louder now, covering my ears just made it worse.
Scared and cold realising my fear I put my hand between my legs to huddle up into ball protectively, my damp pyjama bottoms clung to my legs.

I had wet myself again, sobbing “Ive dirtied again, my fault!”  knowing what wetting myself meant it was more than just a wet bed or wet nappy in fact far worse, a punishment and with that punishment curling into a ball until it was over was my only way of defending myself.

As I climbed out of the bed very cautiously, the dirty sheet tugged my leg to keep me seemingly imprisoned there, wrapping around my ankle when I crawled across the damp mattress.
The cold clamminess sheets made me shiver from head to toe, the chilly air of morning made me that much colder and I shivered uncontrollably.
Peeping through the gaps in between my fingers, “nothing there now, Im afraid, it will get me!” Was it here now?… I didnt know, and as the mists of sleep began to lift from my eyes I began to wonder where my mother was.
“Mammy, mam-my, where is she, where, did it get her?” “I cant find her.” “No its seen me hiding, its coming to hurt me again!”.

Bending my fingers, twisting them, peeling my hands away from my eyes, glaring at me, I cant look away, terrified of the dark menace pressing my fingers into my eyes. “The fear hurts more than the pain”

Screaming at me,  “Get your fucking hands down now bastard” it strikes me across the head, spits in my face, I feel the slime running down my cheek, “Leave it there dirty little shit” I am ordered.  “A reminder of the filth that you are”  A rough pointed finger like shape jabs me in the chest pushing me backwards, I sway awkwardly.

“Now you get yer and look at me when I order you to”
Im forced up to face a black mass shape looming over me, swallowing hard, from somewhere within me I let my fears out in one desperate breath and scream as loud as I can, “mammy,  mammy make it go”  “I-I c-ant no mor-e-aagh, mammy  please its hurting me.”

“Go on bastard, scream all you like she wont help, I have told her to stay away, she does what I tell her, youre not worth it she knows it just like you will.” I look around for any sign of my mother, but the longer I do the more scared I become; knowing that no one is going to come is too much for me. The blackness of the figure is on top of me, pushing me down trying to hold me in its grasp.

“Run if youre going to, defy me I dare you, see what happens then” it knows that I will run but to where “No where thats fucking where” it screams in my face. “It always does this, offers me to run, then stopping me”

“Now get yer” its fingers wrap around my ankle, its claws scratch and pierce my skin, blood seeps from the scrams and scratches, my leg is burning and stinging its hands are on me gripping me tightly pulling me into it.

I scrabble to get away reaching out to what?  “Nothing” furiously scraping my fingers along searching desperately for an anchor. “Too late now, its got me,” Im weightless, lifting me.
I stare into its darkness, ensnared in silent cruel fury Im staying still and cant speak for the sobbing.

The scruff of my pyjamas tighten bunching around my throat slowly squeezing the breath out of me “Youre a dirty little bastard” the voice thunders around me deafening drowning out the anxiety of my heart pounding so fast that it hurts.

My fear of it is growing, black fingers closing tighter drain the strength out of me, “I cant b-breathe, everything around me is starting to fade.”  I scratch and try to bite at the arms and hands that are choking me.

I kick out to break free, and sweat is pours down my face, tiny stars and coloured specs of light flash in front of me.
Im cold and numb and hanging limply from the choking grasp.
Im peeing myself, dizzy, and cant see, “youre a dirty bastard”, words bang inside my head, “I know what I am, a dirty bastard, stinking filth,” I keep hearing this, it never stops, not  old enough then  to understand the full meaning of them though “I am afraid and I cry when I do hear them.”

Even now as an adult I hate those words and the nightmares still happen occasionally
A second breath or need to get away, now I tear at the hand choking me, “oh you want to fight me do you?”  I try to snap one of the fingers, the figure laughs at me. “Youre fucking hopeless, you idiot” and throws me to the floor. I cough gasping, gulping at any air that I can its stale with the odour of sweat and pee, “but at least it is air.”

I cough that hard that I dribble saliva over my chin, a fine silvery sinew stretches down to my fingers. 
My head hurts; aching banging theres sharp pain over my eyes. “Get up you little bastard.”
“I cant look at it again”, but it grabs at me once more, holding me up to its facelessness, this time it knows that Im weakened, fear has taken  my strength, “Im shaking and want my mother!”

“Now lets try again shall we?” I’m trembling trying to catch my staggered breath “When I say what are you, you will answer” , “dirty little bastard” It screams at me, “speak up, dyou hear?” I swallow some mucus that has gathered in my throat, then mumble “dirty bassud”, and wait silently. “Again, say it again, didnt quite hear it”  “Im, a d-dirty little bas-sud.”  “Thats right, dont you forget it,” it bawls at me. “Ive said it now and wont forget what I am”. Branded..

“You know whats next dont you.” The tone in its voice is enough.  
“A beating,”  one of my biggest fears, waiting for it to begin, the figure brought out what looked like a belt, swung it over my head whistling and snaking in the air, tasting the unmistakable scent of tears and sweat, it flexes to its full length, the figure lets go of my throat again, momentarily satisfied at the fear in me as I crouch petrified, holding me down almost snapping my spine in half with such vengeful force as Im bent over by the scruff, twisted ready to take the belt. 

Theres no way to stop the pain, even placing my hands on my bum to keep the belt away, “No! Its no good doing that.” I tense up and bite my lip, close my eyes at the pain, closing and contorting into an unrecognisable pathetic shape, “dirty bassud, dirty bassud.” rings in my ears.  
The belt recoils cracking the air above me, doubling back on itself, becoming even thicker.

Snapping loudly, a signal that it was ready now, and hungry  to see me begging not to be hit again,  soon it will inflict pain and leave its red marks on me,  it needs to taste both my blood and tears as it will swipe and lash across my back, bum and legs. “Dont you move you little bastard” I cant and wont even dare to try getting away.

The intensity of fear increasing with every passing movement of the belt, “just hit me.” I mouth silently to myself and stay bent over. “Youre making me do this, youre shit.”  Its whipping and thrashing itself wildly against my backside, screaming at me in my head “dirty bastard, dirty bastard” over and over. “Cry you little fucker.” howling as it hits me repeatedly.  “Ow, ow”  “I’m sorry, Im s-sorry” is all that I can eventually say, I cant bite my lip in silent defiance any more the pain is to much

The belt hits harder with every strike, a large “Silver-ish” buckle thumps me in the back, burning into me, a metallic taste of my own blood on  my tongue, Ive bitten it, its bleeding and hurts.
I close my eyes, bunch my fists in front of me and press my chin heavily into my knuckles, biting in to them for any strength that I have left in me. “Wait when it stops, rub the bruises later. Back then it was the only way I knew how to deal with it.”

With each swing the belt finds its mark and hits me across, my back, it savours my fear and self loathing.
The buckle of the belt catches me again, and hurts so bad, I scream for it to “stop!”,  throbbing  pulses violently,  a lump rising on my bum and another at the back of my legs, “two bardie marks” where it had hit me.

Mucus runs from my nose, I swallow it gags at the back of my throat, my head spins and my stomach lurches from the coughing, I vomit over myself, “Look at you dirty fucking pig.” “The stench over me, my fault again!” “You disgust me.”
“Get away from this!” a thought runs through my head, my hand covers my backside, sweat has coated the soft tender area, tracing the freshly laid welt that has cut in to me. “Hurts does it?” “Good I want it to” “make sure you never forget what you are.” My finger tip is sticky, one of the cuts is weeping. Im scared, hurting and smelling, “will it stop?”

Panicking and dirty, “I stink” the words drag me to my own hatred. “Your mother hates you”  “no one wants you” “look at yourself you make me puke” “something as dirty as you belongs in the gutter” “for what you did.” “It knows what I’ve done!”  Memories of misplaced emotions times sat in darkness when I said that “I hate everyone” entwine the guilt, drowning in confusion. Now it torments me knowing my despair and sadness in the past has caused me to say things that “I didnt mean to.”

If it told on me, told my mother of my guilt “I didnt want to hear it.” Tears are choking up inside me the pain that is there at the back of my throat just before I cry is starting to rise. “Go on cry, bastard, thats your answer to everything isnt it, fucking sissy crying because he cant stand up for what he did.”  The shape raises itself to its fullest hatred and loathing; gloating at the fearful shadow it casts over me, and the futility of me trying to evade it.

Realising how frightening it is to me, “you little bastard Ill fucking murder you.” “Im going to beat shit out of you.” “Youre nothing.” It spat at me again. “I just give way to the inevitable this has always been the way; wait for another blow to land on me, there simply isnt anything else that I could do!!”
“Please, please I want this over, lash my back, beat me around the head, or kick me in the ribs but please end the overwhelming weight of anxiety and . I scream out to end the anxiety, will my cries make the pain go quicker?” then  

Am I waking up and escaping from another bad dream? “I really dont know!,” the confusion is making me very uneasy.
Gripped with fear as the reality increases. “That shape is in my nightmares or is it? Is this another trick, a game it plays with me endlessly tormenting me?”

It knows everything about me, what Ive done and said, itll use this against me, “is this what it wants?” Scare me in my nightmares, and confusing me like this could be a “new way of getting at me!”
Panic grips me at the thought of it as I’m punished and blamed by my own visions and their accusations?  Beating me over and over, no matter how much I beg it to stop, and that figure laughing as it hits me.

“Bend you stubborn little bastard”  “do as I fucking tell you” swearing at me all the time, when it swore at me, I was in for more punishment. It wound the belt up “when” the belt hits me, “I” another slap with it “say” my leg is burning “bend” Im pushed back over “fucking well bend” I’m hit across the back again. “Cry you  …little..” “Its stopped, why?” The nightmare has ended?”
Im still unsure of where I am!  Is this sweat or “Oh no, I’m wet!” the smell of sweat and urine surround me as I lay in the tangled dirty sheets.

The mattress is worn thin from the pee, a cold metal spring presses against the ball of my foot, almost poking through the thread bare cotton surface.
My pyjama bottoms drape loosely and bedraggled. I want to get them off of me, they stink, “I stink” and the dirty soggy nappy that is hanging  around me, the rim of the rubber pants has cut in to me, it stings when from the elastic biting the red sore mark.

Guilt and sadness have taken over me, I cant stop crying at my shame, everything was blurred, my eyes are sticky and ache from all the crying that Ive done. 
There is some odd reassurance that at least for now “Im on my own”, “no screaming in my head”  “no belts lashing me, just the quiet of night,”  for now “nothing can get me”
Out of exhaustion of the nightmare eventually my crying becomes sobbing and then the odd whimper, I swallow back any more tears and sniff up brusquely, some snot and phlegm runs to the back of my nose and washes down in to my mouth, the hard grittiness of dried snot is on my tongue when I push it against my teeth.

The taste of it is salty, but stronger because of the stale tears and mucus, so once the dried snot had fed its way to the front of my mouth I spit it on the back of my hand then wipe it on the leg of my damp, dirty pyjama bottoms which by now are half way down my leg as I sit in my wet smelly bed.
“Im awake!” wiping the last of the saliva off me, a silvery trail shimmers on my skin, 
Its nearly dark in my bedroom, the pale light of the moon casts a dull glimmer through my curtains and on to the edge of my bed.

I trace an imaginary line along its shape with my finger following it up to the window of my bedroom, along the cill of the wooden window ledge, finally up to the frame of the window, around the latch and then circle the shape of the moon.
Theres no sound except for the odd creak of my bed springs from me sitting huddled against the cold of the early morning air and rocking myself backwards and forwards for some comfort.
My tummy hurts aching with cramps,  quietly breaking wind from the pain but it feels wet around my bum and smells terrible, my leg is sticky and “runny poo” runs out of the side of the nappy, on to the bed sheet. 

“Im dirty and smelly” and “theres the mess all over me.”  “You dirty bastard. reminding me again. “Cant undo it, wheres the pin?” “ow” it scrapes along my leg when the dirt nappy is tugged. The “rubbers” are coming down at the same time tightening around my legs, tangling in my pyjama bottoms all forming a filthy knot around my ankles.

Dragging the nappy down my legs the runny poo has rubbed against me making a dirty smelly ‘smear mark on me. “Wipe it off” mouthing silently to myself, its really smelling in my room especially my bed.

Rubbing at the stain on my leg with bed sheet I roll to the side my hand accidentally goes in to the wet mess on my mattress, its warm and squelches in between my fingers, the palm of my hand slides on it.
Now my fingers have ‘dirty on them, I sniff at my fingers, pull away and screw my face up from the stench. “Do I smell like this all the time?” I asked myself even though I knew the answer any way. “Yes you do filthy bastard.” sounded from somewhere in side my head.

How can I get the ‘poo off of my fingers?, I try to wipe the rest of it on my pyjama top, but cleaning one part of me, slowly I’m making a bigger mess now, and getting more frightened.
Its going to be bad for me, “must hide it” or “make it go away!” “Where can I hide?” I dont know what to do, “Im scared.” “My head is hurting” “the noises are loud” “shouting at me.” I cant quite understand what they are saying but they are very angry with me, “Ive done wrong”
“Get out of my bed?”  I mumble under my breath, away from the dirty.

The nappy is down around my feet now, its cold, heavy and makes my skin itch. My pyjama bottoms have ‘poo smears on the legs and on the back of them a mark where I have dragged myself out of them.
The smell is worse now and gags at my throat, I feel sick and heave so  place my hand to my mouth but saliva drips from my fingers down on to my legs and trickles on to the dirty mattress.

I’m still sat in the mess and can feel it sticking to the backs of my legs; but I know that i must get off the bed now, “hide somewhere!”
Its cold in my bedroom, Im shivering  edging myself off of my bed, my feet are hanging over the edge, the dirty nappy hangs in a loop on to one of my feet, It wont let go of me.
Recalling the fear in my nightmares, how it held me, in the same way the panic I felt then is beginning to build now, I feel sick, cold sweats wash over me.

The cold air makes prickles on my skin, a draft blows on me making me colder, but I would rather this than stay in my bed. I slide myself off of the mattress trailing the sheet with me, its sticks to my leg when I stand up. peeling it off me, flick my fingers to get any dirty off me.
The floor is cold , hopping from one foot to the other; an ache is running up my legs causing shivers..

I try to put my pyjama bottoms back on, they are dirty but not as much as the nappy, and they are drier and a bit least
I sit down on the rough wooden floor, its cold, I sit  on it with a bump, that shakes right through me.

The rough of the wooden floor boards their edges press against my bum and hurt the longer Im sat there.
Lifting one leg awkwardly nearly falling backwards trying to loop my pyjama bottoms over my toes. I pull them up, they still smell and I begin to cry at my shame. “Lazy filthy bastard”

The nappy and rubbers are at the side of the bed, I can see how much ‘poo was in it, a lump of it is still clinging to the edge of the the nappy, its marked the floor too!  a foot print is in front of me, Ive dirtied everywhere and cant hide any of it. ‘Dirty smelly fucker.’ The noises are back, “youre going to get a beating”  “you stink you bastard” “I didnt mean to do.” “Yes you did it you’re a lazy little git.” “What are you?” I cry “I-I have a bad belly.” “No youre a filthy pig”

Someone is calling me names, I cant see them, crying again, I dont know what else to do;  sat on the floor, my hands covering my head, I cower away “Snivelling little bastard.”  “Get out of my sight.”  I throw myself on the floor, and then get on my hands and knees not daring to look up.

I can see the gaps in the floor boards, the cracks and patterns in the wooden strips, dust on the floor has fallen in to some of the spaces, my finger marks are left on the surface of the wood disrupting some of the fresh dust and swirling it around, it tickles and itches my nose so I scratch it and try not to sneeze. “Thats right, thats where you belong,” “on the fucking floor”
“Stay quiet, and do it” the only words that I could think of, is this another bad dream.

“Hide,-I must- hide” “where?”  “I d-dont know, I dont know!”
There under my bed “its dark” can I go there? I must get out of the way, move fast or. “Nearly there now”, dust and fluff lying in between the floorboards swirl around me,  sneezing, snot and dribble are sprayed over the floor and hang in a loop from my mouth, “I cant wipe it off there isnt time” will do it once Im under my the bed.

With a last crawling dash and the edge of the bed sheet brush a cross my face, “I did it!” scrabbling and sliding on the floor my knees scrape against the rough wood, I can smell ‘poo again so I must be moving towards the end of my bed, it takes longer to get under but it doesnt stop me from finally pulling myself to the safety of the darkness. tucking my legs up and pull the edge of the sheet down in front of me.
Its quiet under here and cold, but Im hidden away “it wont get me now?”

My heart thumps wildly, cant slow my breathing panicked, a grey covering of dust, fluff and hairs is all over me, it swept along with me as I crawled further along.
The gap is small, pressed between the floor and bed springs. I can taste the dirt on my lip,  my chin rests on my arm, as I poke out my tongue to get rid of a hair that has stuck to the snot on my face,  pinching my fingers together and pull it from my face, and rub it against the floor, making a finger mark in the dust.
I wipe my nose and mouth with the edge of my sleeve and sniff up slowly and quietly so that “I wont be caught.”

It was dark when I sat in my bed, but now peering out from behind my sheet I can see that the line of light from the moon has started to fade away, ‘poo stains that I could only see when I was nearly on top of them, map themselves around my bed, I can see where I stood in the mess and squelched it under my feet.
The nappy is strewn between two floor boards, curled over one edge, grey with dust, and the rubber pants that I struggled to get off are crumpled in a ball next to the trailing edge of the bed sheet that I dragged behind me when it stuck to my bum and legs.

A staggered pattern of ‘poo stains weave across the material in its folds when it bunched up as I slid off of my bed.
A large yellowish patch shows where I “peed the bed”  I rub my eyes they sting from me crying again I couldnt wipe the mess, its on my bed, the floor and on me!  stay here my first thought, dust is in my throat, my eyes water as I swallow, I cant hold it in and put my hand over my mouth to cough quietly.

“Did it hear me?”  “I dont know!” no one is there, looking around in the gloom for something,  “not sure what!?” listening for any sounds around me. The noise is pounding in my ears,  thump slower. “thump..thump,.thump..thump”
It feels like a lump is in my chest pressing on me, Im faint and my legs are trembling, I still hold my breath waiting for . “Gasp” I cant hold it any more, I cant stay under here, I must get out, “is it ok, it must be?” “So scared!” I will be caught.
Cant stay under my bed, it might be dark bit its too dusty , but I never wanted to move even then I felt very frightened and stank..

My throat is aching, and getting tight I cant swallow my mouth is dry. The dust is itching my skin irritated from the dirt Im laying in, sighing heavily, hesitantly I urge myself to move.
Stiff and cold my legs dont want to move, having been under my bed a long time, my joints click and ache as I start to slowly edge my way out.

The bed springs are cold, sidling and shuffling, pulling myself forward, “Stop,” .. . “No”..I c.cant,” whimpering and sobbing, “Whats there?”… “G-going toto ‘sob’ beat m-me!”   “Ill get an hammering” (Ive heard this in bad dreams), I mutter moving closer to the edge of my bed frame.

My pyjamas tug against the splintered wood of the floor, above the bed springs hook and snag me, pulling cotton strands off of them.
A few more inches and that same bed sheet will brush against me once more. “The smell hits before it touches me.” One of the bed spring hooks is lower than the rest I saw it when I crawled in, I lowered myself on to my side to get passed it then, crawling back out in panic Ive have forgot it is there. “Ow” I hit my head on it just missing my eye, “a sharp pain” I cant move my head; my hair is caught in the spring its hurting as it pulls on me, “Ow, Ow, and Sssssh!”  whispering, “go back” Ill have to do it and pull myself loose!

It hurts when I turn either way Im still stuck, tugging backwards and at the same time trying to lift the bed springs away from me theyre are heavy “aaaahhhh uhhhhh” pausing for breath
Its really stinging my hair is caught, pains all over my head, strands are snapping and breaking, my eyes fill with water and I bite into the top of my raised arm not to make a noise when I slowly tug free “aaaaaaacchhhh ow ow ssssshthhhht”  ‘hurts’ but I must keep pulling, better to pull my hair than stay under here and get caught!

I cant see what Im doing  from the tears in my lashes, my head feels looser now I can move it slightly “be out now” “ssshhhh”  My voice, its too loud! “Be careful” one more sharp tug and Im out,, Im going to scream if, I pull harder now, my arms strain as I lock them. Biting my lip and closing my eyes, inhaling deeeply.

One final sharp tug “aaaaaah owwwww,” it hurts.. “Uuhhh” “it hurts- it hurts- its sting-s ow ow” Suddenly the strands of my hair breaks free, the last ones have snapped they are still hanging caught in the springs, my head is burning and itching, rubbing the pain away, it eases, but still sore . Im finally out, just have to wriggle my legs out from under the bed, then I can ..  “Do what?”. 

Taking so much time under my bed I forgot the mess on it, its everywhere and I cant clean it off.
Sat up finally, Im next to my bed, the dirty nappy lays by my foot “ahhhh” quickly moving my foot away from and then lift myself on to my knees and peer over the end of the bed.

My bedroom and bed smell of ‘pee and poo as I take hold of the bed frame for balance I begin to stand up.  Still very stiff, my legs are aching  ‘pins and needles  are tingling through them,  shaking one of my legs, when I move it, its heavy and buzzy right down to my toes.
The throbbing begins to slow down, becoming less painful, my leg feels lighter now, when I  stand on it then  take a step rocking on my heel. My bed is dirty but I must get back in it, so I slowly walk around the edge of it ‘ssshhhh’ scared of making a noise as floorboards creek awkwardky. The nasty voice is gone, “hiding, waiting to hurt me?” its quiet ‘I dont like it.’

Its the first time in the half light of day that I see the mess on my pyjamas properly. They are really dirty, the ‘poo from me having a bad tummy has marked the legs of my pyjama bottoms, “they are my favourite ones too!”, “blue with white rabbits on them.”
The white rabbits have dirt on them, cotton strands, snags where I was stuck under my bed have pulled the rabbits in to different shapes.
Some of the strands are misshaping the rabbits eyes, they look very angry now, not like the friendly ones that wave and smile, skipping and dancing on me as they play. “Some of these images have stayed with me.”

The rabbits look sad and stained, some ‘poo from me has covered one of them there is a brown smudge where it used to be.
One of them points at me “look at the mess youve made, youre dirty and naughty.” “Its shouting at me.”   “I did this.”  “I hurt the rabbit.” The others know theyre angry and being nasty to me as they stare. Not my friends now “will they hurt me too.” “I h-have a bad bel-ly.” Its hurt..”    “Were not friends to you.”  “Now they hate me.” “Im naughty, dirty and I stink.”

“When its bad, I talk to the rabbits, they help me when I cry”. “Make the hurt stop.”  “Now they go away from me!”
I’ve got a blue dressing gown with a big white rabbit on it, its on the end of my bed at night time, hes my friend, he likes me, and keeps me warm when I wake up.

“Well tell him youre dirty and smelly, he wont be friends to you!” Theyll tell on me, the voice told my mummy, she hates me. The little rabbits are telling on me, then the big one wont like. “No one likes me, they all hate me.”  The noise runs around in my head. A tear gathers in my eye, I blink and it trickles down my cheek. I hate what Ive done, hate me. Im naked, I took my pyjamas off after what “the rabbits said about me!” its nearly morning and its cold in my room,  the dirty sheet gathered up it stinks, the smell goes up my nose and burns the back of my throat.

I struggle to put the sheet on my bed; my blanket has fallen down the side nearest the wall, the same wall I always turn to when I cry and am afraid to make a sound.
The blankets are heavy and itchy, worse still is the odour from them of stale pee, I always pee the bed, dont know why but its after a bad night that Im wet.
One of the blankets is blue the same colour as my pyjamas and dressing gown, but where I dirtied the bed I has become stained and smelly.

I climb back on to my bed, the wet of the mattress feels cold on, my knees, as i sink into the worn patch,  a bed spring pokes at my leg,  crawling down the bed and there my blue dressing gown lies crumpled and pushed down to the end of it.
After a struggle to pull it from the edge of the mattress, I put my one arm in to the sleeve, shivering and rushing to put it on. Its long, as I kneel up to put it over me, the edge of it becomes trapped by my feet and jams at the backs of my legs. I lean forward on my hands and knees, and with one hand try to flick the end of the dressing gown around me. The first time I do it, it folds over it self uncovering my bum, I flick it again and finally it wraps back around me.
I hold it tightly around me, to shut out any cold.

Its fluffy and Im a bit warmer now, the large white rabbit sits on the front of it, “no dirty on him.”  I start crying, “I didnt dirty him!.” He will still be friends to me, I looked over at the dirty pyjamas on the floor and the rabbits on them, “cant get me, and tell on me.”
My dressing gown has warmed me, I must put the blanket on me, I crawl back to the top end of the bed, avoiding  the wet patch I balance myself and stand up supported by the wall. 
I dont want to dirty my dressing gown the mattress is wet and cold on my feet, my toes press in to the springs, “are they poking through, theyre hurting me.”
Im stepping awkwardly along the mattress, nearly fell twice, stopped and waited for the springs to stop moving, now getting near the top end of the bed, crouching back down and crawl to the rest of the way.
Though my blanket has come off of the bed and stuffed down the side, there is a corner of it sticking up, if I can pull it back on me.

I must be quiet “dont get caught.”  Ive been caught before and had a beating with a slipper for it. I can hide under the blanket, close my eyes and go to sleep “wont get hit then.”  pulling and tugging on the blanket, it feels wet and cold, stuck down the side of my bed its heavy to pull up. I lose my grip on the edge and my fingers tingle, and  lurching backwards nearly falling overit pries lose..

Shaking and rubbing my fingers they stop hurting, ‘wait’ I listen for any noise.I dont get it all on to my bed, enough of it on me to roll in to a ball, pull it tight around me, “it will have to do.”
Panicking I scrunch myself down and pull the smelly blanket over me, the stench is terrible it makes me cough but I stay under it, my breathing begins to slow, my hearts  thumping in my chest, Im trembling trying to keep still. I close my eyes and hope to fall asleep

Shadows Child: Chapter one

The Shadow’s Child

I have written a manuscript of which I have tried to have published but in today’s market of making money out of whatever way one can , I decided against going t a publishing house and there I am looking to “free publish” my work here , and so shortly I shall be posting the first Chapter …thank you all who graciously read my blog , may my manuscript be a source of recognition and understanding …ūüėä

The Shadow’s Child

Father and Farther away..

I wish that I could understand how the word “Father” is given so randomly even to those who feel they have earned it , despite themselves and their beliefs

We grew up in a Time where children were seen but not heard , no one dared to Step out of line. It was a regime of that there was no doubt , the obligatory questioning who do I think I am. Before I could answer through a stammered trembling lips,  the answer  would be thrust upon me imprinted as it was

“I will tell you what you are! You are ¬†nothing, you belong in a gutter” ¬†These words embelished themselves ¬†in my mind because I had to recite them word¬†for word in repetition.

My father would bellow at me

“Who do you think you are”

my reply through trembling lips “I’m nothing, nothing at all, dirt no less” “That’s right” he would answer.

These words play over and over in my head, in all there cruel glory.


Father and Farther away..

Dont get mad , get justice..

So its been Two weeks since I posted  on here, I just wanted to update everyone who kindly reads and understands  my blog.

Where do I begin?

That certain members of  family have been implicated in a forgotten act of cruelty and abuse  on me as a child.  I recently found out that it was not just me,  I have a fractured personality. This means that there is more than one personality living within me, sharing this body with me.

I have come to think of it kinder like tree branches, there is a main sturdy branch which is me.  Then there are more delicate branches (personalities)   That are not so sturdy as my solid branch, these may seem non factors however through my many splits in the real me. The automotive memories recalled by not just myself but by Sarah, Adam, David Martyn and many others splits.  They are as real to me as I am  to you, these personalities  all played a  big part in helping the tree grow strong. There have been moments where the splintered fragments have torn through me but in essence we remain as a collective.

I can say that it is all very well getting angry at the past and the future, fore it is a natural human reaction. Lately I have learnt to seek justice as opposed to getting mad which leads to no where, and so with this in mind I leave with an update.

Justice will be done …Thanks

Dont get mad , get justice..


come out I know you are here I smell you evil darkness , filthy drunk molester of children , you didn’t hurt Tyler oh no he’s the Golden one , no you hurt me , fucking so deep you don’t know do you , you don’t even care you sick fuck ,, COME OUT of hiding just get it over with , take your penis out as you’velways done , and make me bend , you may hurt my body but you cant touch my soul …Adam


Bad Day start to the day

Woke up as you do pretty normal day at the moment just rain and cold. I put my dogs out for their morning constitution, just about to put the kettle on. Everyone needs coffee in the morning even me, four cups then I am human. When there is a knock at the door, only the workmen to look at the damp In my house I am sure they were only here to play with my dogs but they agreed the house needs insulation boards to stop the damp.

So from the workmen agreeing to the work to suddenly feeling like the bottom had dropped out of someone‚Äôs world, does not feel like mine. I mean because I‚Äôm actually happy at the moment.. I think, no I know it’s like someone inside is unhappy and just needs someone anyone to listen to them.

Even our blog is playing up , maybe someone else inside doesn‚Äôt want us to write these feelings down. As soon as there is a spelling error they punishes me, just like when I was a child. But that’s the problem no everyone can spell and converse like me, some are children who can barely write or spell.
Am I doing it wrong by giving voice to all, I just know there are so many people and memories that need to get out of my head.

luckily I have people who care and who understand, because I don’t understand what is going on with my own body and mind right now. I do care naturally I care about everyone inside and out.

Anyway on with day I won’t be beaten today.

Bad Day start to the day