Tell A Tale in 500 Words

Tenebrosity By Sophie Clements

I have a question to ask you all. The question is simple, yet may not prove to have a simple answer. Where you born into a happy and loving world?

I was. I do not say this is spirit in my voice, nor warmth or love. I say it with distaste and loathing. Unlike others how may have answered, my experiences have not led me to hate and resenting the world around them. I feel my hatred in my heart for this world has always been there.

I was born on a sunny day in June, 1950. My mother would recall to me that the birds were singing the day you were born, the sun was high in the sky, illuminating the beauty below in. She would say in with such love in her eyes. One that day my mother was just 21 years old, married and the image of a 1950s women. Today she would have been seen still as a child probably, scared and out of her depths. But my mothers was proud of this day, this could not be said about the birth of my brother. Three years my elder he was as my mother put it, the sin of her world. But she and my father loved us both equally, my brother never felt the shame of being born out of wedlock as many others did.

My father an older man, was of money as he would put it. We as children had everything one could imagine. For an outsider looking in we had it all, a perfect family.

In my world it was a different story. To me I could not appreciate the wonders of my families world, for my demons within my sole were always there. I feel that I never got to see the real world as my sole was destroyed by the darkness in my heart. My heart was blacken from the start.

As a child I was not like my brother. He was a happy lad, always laughing and playing with the other children down the street. I as my mother put it was, shy and hadn't bloomed yet. I was silence and moody, even as a toddler. I never wanted to join in at parties, always on the side lines looking in. I was the same at school, distant and vague. As you can imagine I did not join in clubs, nor have friends. If I was honest I never tried, I liked the loneliness, the empty feeling, the misery. I thrived on it.

As the years went by my mood did not falter. I was the loner, the weirdo, the outsider. As my looks grew, at first I attracted attention. But the deepest fear of the unknown was too great. I shunned away the affection of others, creating a barrier. My harsh stance and abrupt words made me secure. It was my safety, I was safe.

My brother unlike me lived his live to the max. He spent our parents money and he experienced it all. He really built a life for himself, he was educated, he'd traveled and he had been on adventures. I remember one day, the date is losted in my mind but I remember it was 1971. He had returned from his European tour. We were at our parents house. I always liked being at home, the familiarity, the safeness. My brother offered me a smoke. In them days everyone smoked, little did we know the poison we were filling our bodies with. I light, I puffed, I was hooked. I mean I had been smoking since my teens, but nothing like this. This was different. My mind was opened, opened to much bigger darker thoughts.

Up until this point in my life I feared the world, the unknowns, the criticism, the opinions of others, the emptiness, But I began to really hate me.

By 1980 my world had gone darker, I had fallen into the underground wall. It was scary full of crime, sex and drugs. Unlike my mother the shame of my sins was not taboo down here. My two children never say the misery, the darkness of my world. They were thrown into nothingness aborted without consideration.

During this time I imagined what if my parents had done the same to my brother. What if my mother could have flushed my brother away. They would no have to have been married. They would not have had me. If only.

In 1991, I was no longer young, I had aged many more years than I was. I was a mess, years of hate had built, twisting turning my mind. I decided it was the end.

I woke in the hospital. It was bright and clean, somehow happy with all the doctors and nurses going about their day. Almost like a family home.

I could not leave the hospital, hell I tried. I was kept capvite as it felt for a total of 28 days. The hospital was secure, there was no leaving, I was allowed to wonder with support, meeting the others, attending sessions. The professionals believed I was unstable, a danger to myself and others. Personally I never say it.

I was not the only inmate. The wards were full of people, people like me, people who cried and wailed, people who rocked back and forth and to me were possessed by the devil. I was sitting one day and an inmate asked me a question, 'how is it we are surrounded by people, yet I feel so alone.' I had only been there but a day and my response now seems so cruel, the darkeness has eaten your soul. Now i see, she was reacting out to me I feel seeking comfort in someone who knew her pain.

Those 28 days was my rebirth. It could have been all medication, it could have simple been the support from the patients and doctors, the love and warm from the nurses, that cured my mind. I did not find God like the other, I found the real world.

On my realise I stepped out into freedom.I looked up at the sky and saw the sun illumination the beauty of the earth below and I was happy. I was really to live my live as a well person.


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