The Awful God

Richard Bryce was a mystery,

He lived on a back street lot,

The house was the old half-timbered sort,

Paint peeled on the old wainscot,

The blinds were drawn through the day and night

And the garden a neighbourhood moan,

Full of the bodies of rusting cars

And creepers, all overgrown.

 

We rarely saw him out in the street

But he’d peep from the side of blinds,

And stories were told in the neighbourhood

That were often more harsh than kind,

There’d been a wife and a daughter once

But they hadn’t been seen in years,

Since the echoing raft of arguments,

Doors slammed, and a flood of tears.

 

Old Grandpa Bryce had lived in the house

Since thirty odd years before,

He’d worked in the woollen fulling mill

‘Til it closed, just after the War,

His son had drowned in the old mill stream,

Was caught in the paddle wheel,

And Grandpa Bryce was left with the child,

To raise, and be brought to heel.

 

For Grandpa Bryce was a steely man

Who lived his life by the book,

More like a Prophet, this Abraham

Believed, whatever it took,

That ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’

Would be how that his Grandson learned,

As he laid the rod across Richard’s back

‘Til the flesh turned red, and burned.

 

There was never a ministering angel there

To offer the boy relief,

Only the hard-edged wooden pew

In the church, on a Sunday eve,

And Abraham led the final prayer

In a voice that would damn and blight,

‘Beware you sinners, the Awful God

Will come unseen in the night!’

 

Richard’s mother had died in pain

In the blood of the afterbirth,

She never returned to her home again

But was placed, six foot in the earth,

He never knew of a mother’s love,

But only a Grandpa’s pain,

And Bryce had ruled the daughter and wife

‘Til they fled one night, in the rain.

 

The house was suddenly silent then

Just two of them, left alone,

Grandpa suddenly old and frail,

He never went out on his own,

And Richard boarded the windows up

So you couldn’t see in from the street,

It looked like an old abandoned place

‘Til the police called round, last week.

 

We all stood out in the street and watched

As Richard came out of the house,

His hands were cuffed and his hair stood up

And he looked quite down in the mouth,

There must have been twenty cops in there,

All milling around the place,

And one threw up in a paper cup

As we strained to look at his face.

 

It all came out in a day or two

Just what they had found in there,

The place was sparse, but a giant cross

Stood gaunt in the putrid air,

The skeleton of old Grandpa Bryce

Had been crucified, up tight,

And nailed to his skull: ‘The Awful God

Will come unseen in the night!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Kwiksie Ifediora]

OH bravo bravo! Wonderful piece indeed!
i was almost going to miss this till i saw it was a poem/story piece.
You did a fantastic job with this one mister, and the creativity all but screams...
Grandpa Bryce was the role-model for the monster that emerged from Richard, it seems.
Thanks so much for sharing, and i'm very glad i got to read this;
and thus i have me a favorite, from the talented poet, Lewis. :)

[Tate Morgan]

Man this sure tells a morbid tale of justice.The bible thumpin had definitely gotten to the boy. In the days gone by we have all see this haven't we?Beware the vengeful spiteful holy damn justice of god.This type of fear based illogic is responsible for the child like meanderings of the minds that follow blindly their faith as it is fed to them by those who wield the cross and sword! I say as to this justice they should try that out on Anne Frank. then let me know how it went over.

[Baby Ricochet]

Awesome! Great story.

[Arielle Ann]

this was deeply engrossing; it held my attention up to the end.you are a great storyteller I must say, although the story was dark and the darkness increased towards the end to give a horrifying end to it.almost like a spooky fable!bravo!

[Marie]

This end is shudderingly horrible. Awful means literally full of awe, which is its meaning in the Bible and in early Christianity. But it cme down to something else, and this poem tells the story well.

[Valentine]

David..a subject that is too often ignored..the abuse of children or other human beings..To many people can see the signs and still ignore the cries that often go unheard..We have a battered woman's shelter here and also it runs a store and sells used goods to make money..In the store are t-shirts with pictures on them of women who were abused and or killed by their mates..Mates can take off..what do little kids do?? Nice write about a sad item..love and God bles..Kathie

[Enid Blake]

What a terrible sight indeed. What goes around comes around, hey? :)
I particularly liked the 5th and last stanza, obviously I enjoyed it all but those ones stood out for me!

[Lisa Ring]

What a dark portrayal of reality! Indeed, insanity begets insanity. Love it.

[Emerald Seas]

Good morning David! I do enjoy getting your RRs because I never know what I am going to read about, but that it will be written in grand style and a wonderful story will be before my eyes. Splendid tale! You are a gem :)

[emmy bon]

keep writing sir while i keep reading and enjoying your writing sir, well done