Pebbles

A short story depicting the fragility of family relationships, marriage and the corruption of innocence.

I remember, when I was six; before my parent's marriage broke down, before my Father developed an extreme addiction to cocaine, before my Mother's suicide because of my actions; she had a saying: A family can be a fortress, but you only need a pebble to knock it down. I never knew what she meant by this, my young brain had not the capacity to comprehend the wide implications of this sentence; that is, until she educated me through demonstration.

Have you ever seen a man consumed by powder? Simply a fine white powder? My Father was never a violent man, nor the kind of man to raise his voice. Skip forward a couple of years when I'm eight. When I met Daddy's alter-ego.

I remember it clearly, clearer than the glass table top my Father used to inhale his temporary escape from reality. I heard noises coming from Daddy's room, I heard music with naughty words, I heard him shout,

"C**T!"

What's a c**t? I wanted to know, I want to know.

His door was open a crack, a slither of a portal from my small world to his warped enclosure. Curiosity didn't kill the cat but it did murder what I looked up to. When I looked up I didn't see my Daddy, I saw a demon with his face; that very face buried in a white mountain of special snow. His eyes bloodshot. His veins wrapped around his arms like the vines in Jack and the Beanstalk. In his fist he held a shiny straw. The demon growled,

"You. Let me hear more stories about Mummy."

It turns out a c**t is what I am. Daddy made his shiny straw hot with his fire button and hurt me with it. At school Miss Ranger asked me what the red marks on my face were; a few days later men in special uniforms came and took Daddy away. Daddy said it was mine and Mummy's fault.

I shouldn't have told on Mummy.

A year before Daddy was taken away by the big men we had a family party for my seventh birthday. Everyone was there: Auntie Claire and Uncle Toby, Grandma and Granddad, Daddy and his friends, but where were Mummy and Uncle Steve?

I looked everywhere. The kitchen, the living room, all the bedrooms, the dining room. What about outside?

"Mummy? Uncle Steve? We're blowing out my birthday cake."

I received only silence. I thought I should go and shut the shed doors while I was out there or Daddy might be angry.

That's where I found them. 

I'd never heard Mummy call Uncle Steve 'Stevie' before but the closer I got to the shed, her voice screamed that name louder. I thought he was hurting my mummy. I ran to the doors and saw the pebble to my family's fortress. My Mummy was bending over facing me, I could see her boobies flapping around like the sock puppets she bought for me that day. Her pretty flowery jeans were around her ankles where Uncle Steve was kneeling over; he reminded me of the pig in my animal book making those grunting noises. They were both panting and sweaty.

"Mummy, what are you doing?"

When I told Daddy about Mummy and Uncle Steve's exercises he went out for a week. Everyone left my birthday party and Mummy started crying. 

Ten years later my Mother killed herself with a rope and the ceiling fan. I still wonder about her. If she knows where I am. Buried next to her. Ceiling fans and ropes.

More pebbles.

Author's Note

Any feedback is welcomed, this is my first time showing my writing.

Reviews

[Exponet USA]

This was well done. The childlike words, while normally I'd read something like that and scratch my going asking, "What in the world?" were welcome here. You did a good job portraying the world from the perspective of a child.

[Ben Mills]

Thank you very much!

[Jonas]

That plot twist did the job completely. Wow. That indeed is an simple yet overpowering ending you weaved there. Overall, it's really amazing. You captured the innocence of a child in vile situations perfectly and that is congratulatory. Well done.

[Ben Mills]

Thank you very much, I'm very happy you liked it and thank you for leaving a review, you're the first person to have done so.

[Jonas]

Just doing my best to help those aspiring.