Ik theres this big cringe trend lately, but if its just kids having harmless fun and arent doing any damage ( harrassing, stealing, overbearing strangers, etc) just let them be
Nothing sucks more than having a good time, that isnt distressing anyone, and to be ridiculed for it. Remember that while it isn’t your place to babysit anyone it’s also not your place to ruin a good experience
We sat down for dinner, and Bruno walks over and patiently sits on his pillow without being asked. He knows he gets treats for going to “settle”, and since there wasn’t a bed or mat to lay on he figured a pillow would do. Oh boy do I love this dog.
This is a little something I thought of yesterday talking to @jeonghans-bunny and looking at a picture of baby hao that I saw in one video :,) he’s so adorable i cAN’T THIS IS ONE OF THE INFINITE REASONS WHY THE8 IS MY ULTIMATE BIAS
also this wasn’t a request, this was my own idea :,) omg it’s been so long since i wrote something out of my own imagination. I hope you all like it!!
i like barry but i find him unrealistic, i mean no guy does all that stuff that he does for iris.
i am so sorry anon. i am sorry you’ve never met a guy like barry. i have. my dad. after 30 years of marriage my dad still surprised my mom with flowers on random days, everyday my mom would work, he would bring her coffee everyday. any time there was music playing, even on a tv show, he would ask my mom to dance. he still introduced her as his bride, and when we would go to weddings, when they would clink the glasses for the couple to kiss, my dad would kiss my mom. he loved my mom truly and deeply, like barry allen loves iris west. yes men like that are hard to come by, but if that’s what you want, don’t settle for anything less than that.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms that work full or part time and take care of their children. Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms that stay home and take care of their children. Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms that lose countless nights of sleep caring for their sick children. Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms who raise(d) their children on their own. Happy Mother’s Day to all the dads who play both roles for their children. A mother’s hard work does not go unnoticed. We appreciate everything that you do. Moms are superheroes.
“You mean?” BamBam asks looking at me “Hyung, that’s why he
reminded me of Yugyeom” he explains to Mark.
“So this is why you left Seoul” Mark says, looking at Yuwon who
was playing around with BamBam.
“Yes.. that’s the main reason. I missed my family and nothing was
holding me back” I quietly answer.
“I understand. Yugyeom would love to know that he has a son” Mark
smiles, looking at me.
“I’m not sur-”
“I’m not lying! He loves kids. And if he knows about him he’ll be more than happy to be honest” Mark chuckles.
“Do you think he’ll be happy to hear that his ex-girlfriend had a
son with him and that she kept this secret from him? I’m not sure
he’ll be happy and especially if he has a girlfriend” I shake my
“Oh hum… by the way… since you left.. he hasn’t.. dated anyone”
Mark laughs. “That’s why he often talks about you, he misses you”
he adds, looking at me.
“Does he really miss me? He’s the one who broke up with me” I
“You know him! You know how he is. He doesn’t measure the
consequences of his words.. He didn’t mean what he said to you that
night. When he came back home, you should’ve seen his face. It was
like a part of him was dead” Mark frowns, remembering the scene.
“I should go now” I suddenly say, looking at Yuwon.
“Don’t go, plea-”
“We finally found you” I hear a voice, the voice I fell in love
with. The only voice that could make me smile, cry, laugh or feel anything in a second. This voice I tried to forget, but secretly wanted to remember
for the rest of my life.
I couldn’t move, still looking at Yuwon. I was stupid enough to think he couldn’t see me if I wasn’t moving.
“Y/N?” I hear him quietly ask.
“We’ll leave you guys alone” Mark says, standing up and joining
BamBam with the rest of the boys.
“So hum.. we’re just going to sit there?” Yugyeom suddenly asks.
I don’t answer, I don’t know what to say. Where to begin, do I simply
say ‘hey you have a son, surprise’ and then leave?
“I guess this is what we’re doing” he sadly chuckles. “Is
he your nephew?” I suddenly hear him ask.
“He..no..” I quietly say. “Oh, are you babysitting?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“No..” I answer, looking at Yuwon. “Oh…” he simply answers, realizing what was going on.
“Yugyeom I swea-”
“I hope he makes you happier than me!” he says, lowering his
head. “He’s lucky” he adds.
“What? Who are you talking about?” I chuckle, confused.
“His father, your boyfriend guessing he hasn’t propose yet. You
have no ring on you left hand” he explains, looking at me.
“Yug-… Yugyeom, I’m single” I nervously explain, looking at him.
He looks at me confused. Couple of seconds later his eyes widened.
“I’m sorry I left..” I whisper.
“You mean.. I… You…He… Mine?” he stutters. “But when?”
“Two weeks before you broke up with me, we saw each other at the
studio remember” I quietly explain.
“Oooooh…” he says, looking at Yuwon.
“I wanted to tell you. But I decided not to, thinking that you
didn’t want to hear about me anymore” I say, looking at his
“What? No no no! I do wanted to hear about you, like every day!
I missed you the moment I left your apartment” he explains, panicking.
“You did? But why did you leave me then?” I ask, confused.
“I.. I thought you weren’t happy anymore. Do you remember how much
I made you cry? I felt bad, I didn’t want to leave the studio
because I was scared to face you. I didn’t wanted to face the
reality” he quietly explains, looking at me with sad eyes.
“What reality?” I whisper. “That you were sad, unhappy because of me” he whispers, lowering his head.
“Yugyeom… I was happy with the relationship we had. I was sad
because I thought you were avoiding me, which was apparently true. I
was scared that you didn’t love me anymore” I say, tearing up.
“I always loved you and I still do. I can’t, it’s physically
impossible for me not to” he reveals, drying up my tears.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” my mom asks.
“Mom, we know what we’re doing! We both think it’s better for the
both of us if Yuwon and I move to Seoul” I explain, smiling.
“I just.. I’m going to miss you” my mom says, tearing up.
“Mom please don’t cry! We’ll skype as much as we can okay? And we’ll come back, you also can come visit us whenever you want?!” I
explain, hugging both my mom and dad.
“Take care of yourself okay?” my dad says, hugging me back.
“Happy birthday Yuwon!!” my mom screams on Skype.
“How old are you now?” my dad asks, smiling. “I’m five years old” Yuwon answers.
“You’re a big boy! Are you good to mom and dad?” my mom asks.
“Yes I am! I’m a man now!” Yuwon explains, trying to flex his
“You can go play now Yuwon” Yugyeom tells him.
“Bye grandpa, bye grandma” he says, waving at the camera and
running back to his room.
“We have something to tell you” I smile at the camera. “What’s happening ?” my mom asks, worried.
“You’re both invited to Seoul in two months” Yugyeom smiles “Show
them Jagi” he looks down at me.
“OH MY!!! FOR REAL???” my mom screams, looking at my hand and
starting to cry.
“When did you propose?” my dad asks Yugyeom, hugging my mom.
Three days ago” he answers, smiling down at me.
“Omma, why is Appa leaving?” Yuwon asks, looking at Yugyeom
“He needs to go for work” I explain, taking him in my arms.
“Will he come back?” Yuwon asks, worried.
“Of course I will” Yugyeom says, smiling at his son. “When?” Yuwon pouts.
“In five days” Yugyeom reveals, taking Yuwon from my arms.
“It is a looooooooooooooong time” Yuwon says, using his arms to
emphasize his words.
“I’ll be home before you know it” Yugyeom smiles, kissing his
“When are you leaving tomorrow?” I ask while getting ready for
“At 6 in the morning” he answers, standing at the door frame and
looking at me.
“What? Why are looking at me?” I awkwardly laugh. “For nothing!” he chuckles.
“When is your next appointment?” he whispers, spooning me and stroking my stomach with one of his hands.
“In two days” I whispers back, kissing his hand.
“And you’ll know the gender?” he asks, kissing my neck.
“Yes” I whisper, smiling like a fool.
“You need to call me, as soon as you can!” he says. “I want to
know if the little nugget in your stomach is a girl or a boy” he
excitedly says, kissing the top of my head.
“You’ll be the first to know” I answer,
facing him and kissing his lips before falling asleep.
Here’s the end! I hope you enjoyed it. I was really happy to write this request. Feel free to send me feed back about it, I would love to know what you thought about it. Thanks to the anon who requested this!
If you have any requests, don’t be scared to ask :)
I never share shit like this, especially this early out of the gate, but I’m writing a horror novel. This is new territory for me. I’m creeping myself out and enjoying it. Hope you do too…
I had a dream about the blinking light in the woods again.
By the time I cleared the yuck out of my eyes, mommy called for me to come inside like Nana used to do when she’d clap her hands when I played on the Tarzan tree outside before mommy says Nana went to Heaven. I woke up in bed. Dad gave me a kiss me bye and, not too long after, I had Frosted Flakes and watched Donald Duck, then mom flipped the channels to Donald Reagan who was on TV. People clapped for him, but not as loud as Nana did when I got yelled at for swinging on the tree, but together so it softer.
When dad left, he said he’ll be with us in a few days. Mom is running around crazy with curlers in her hair and her old bathrobe the color of cartoons that I loved. I asked mom if I can have permission to use the potty, but she laughs and says anytime kiddo. I told her it’s what I have to do in school and I feel bad if I don’t I raise my hand. Other kids get in trouble if they don’t ask. That’s what Mrs. Klotzberger says. She makes me feel bad for not asking permission to pee.
Anyway after dad leaves I used the potty, then mom says I have to get dressed. She helps me into my shirt with the “CON STARLATIONS” on them, and then puts my Oshkosh ove rit. I played with action figures a bit before we have to go in the car and drive to the house where Nana died sooner than mom thought.
When grandpa went to Heaven, I was in school at recess and I was so happy and excited when mom and dad drove up in the car. Mr. Colorado said my mom and dad were here I could hardly contain myself. Daddy said I had to get my lunchbox but mom said it was OK to leave it. They were wearing fancy clothes, black, I don’t remember why, but they had black clothes for me to wear too to say goodbye to grandpa at his funeral. I was sad and so was mom. That night I dreamed of Nana not outside but inside, like she was after the funeral for grandpa. She was drinking her juice out of glasses we had since I guess I was a baby and she stared out the window at the field while the curtain blew in the breeze, blocking and unblocking the view of the field outside. She just drank her juice and stared out the window like she saw something she didn’t want to tell us about no matter how much I asked.
Mom and I got into the car and I had my Dracula Ghostbusters figure and my motorcycle figure and another couple of action figures in my backpack in case I got bored. I also had a tape player and headphones that dad bought me to listen to, but not that loud.
Mom packed the car and buckled me in and we drove slow for a while, but not long after, we went over the big bridge, closer and closer to the trees. It was around then that I was making Dracula jump up and down on the motorcycle guy and suck his blood. Dracula got him. Dracula always gets you. You can’t run from Dracula even if you were on a motorcycle.
On Halloween, I was Dracula. I kept scaring everyone in our neighborhood. James Cummins scared me so bad on Halloween that I bit his nose and dad screamed and so did my mom. They grabbed me off of him and even though I had to come home early and I had his blood on my face, I was still allowed to have my chocolate. I made my mom feel bad by crying a little bit after I said I was sorry, so she let me have chocolate and I snuck some jellybeans also. After that I went to bed and had a nightmare about a ghost.
In my backpack, not only was my Dracula and motorcycle action figures, but also my Batman and green swamp figure. The best part about him is that you can make him throw up green goop all over the place! But I wasn’t allowed to bring the goop in the car because mom says she would get pissed. I did bring my gun though. It fires snaps. It is not a real gun but it looks real, except for the orange part on the tip. I have a lot of guns at home. Mom got me the blue machine gun from Kay Bee for my birthday. I dreamed of it. I imagined running around and playing with it, shooting it in our backyard, at the trees, at the dogs, at James Cummins, at Nana. I asked for for my birthday my mom pretended to shoot it and laugh like it was a hint she got it for me but she didn’t tell me Nana didn’t like guns. I could tell, but too bad, I love my guns and if she wanted to be a Granny Gross, then too bad. She didn’t have to play with them or look at them when I played with them. I always pretended to play guns outside, even when it was snow.
I only ever gotten trouble for playing guns once, when I pointed one at a car and pretended to shoot it. Mom and dad said I had to say sorry to my neighbor, Mr. Ottolet, but I still don’t know why. Anyway, I had my gun - a smaller one with a cylinder that spins when you opened and closed it, like a “sharp shooter,” like Robocop. I kept it with me just in case, but I didn’t put the caps in yet; mom helps with that when I ask her to. I asked, but turns out the blue machine gun was too big to bring on our adventure to Nana’s house. I don’t think she would like to see it anyway since I used to shoot her with it. Since she’s a ghost now, she could probably take it away from me anytime, and that makes it scary.
At a rest stop I asked mom for permission to potty and she laughed and said anytime kiddo. She waited for me to pee, then she asked me if I wanted frozen yogurt, but we had Cinnabon’s instead. Those were her favorite, even though it was hot out, I wanted Cinnabon’s too. Before we left, mom went into the gift shop to buy cigarettes on the TV and there was her favorite, Donald Reagan again, standing at a micro phone talking a audience. While the President talked on TV and the audience clapped, I looked down. In front of me was a box of something VERY cool: glow-in-the-dark dinosaurs! They are all different kinds. It was hard to decide between the one with the spiky back or the T-Rex, but I got the T-Rex. I think I love dinosaurs more than action figures. I like the T-Rex because it is bigger than a house and can tear you to shreds! Nothing can stop it, and if you’re nice to one, you can make it protect you against evil. And the fact that this T-Rex glows in the dark is really awesome too, especially if you cup your hands around it in the dark, you can see his pointy teeth and his eyes even though they are black.
That was when a fat, round woman who looked like she was sad snuck up behind me and asked me if I was going to see the comet tonight. I don’t know what she was talking about, but she spooked me. Her eyes were black like the T-Rex. I looked for mom and thankfully she was there. She rescued me and told me we had to get going. She didn’t seem to think my knocking the box of dinosaurs over was bad, which was OK because I just wanted to get out of there.
A few miles down the road after we left, I asked mom to tell me about comets. She said they come from outer space and that they travel from millions and billions of miles away, so far away that it is from a part in the sky farther than where the stars are, from the part that is black and scary and dark, like my T-Rex eyes, but darker even because around it, there is no glow-in-the-dark.
When I played with my dinosaur in the backseat, I made him eat my motorcycle guy’s leg. That’s when mom asked where I got it. She sounded surprised for some reason, then asked me again because I was quiet the first time I told her I wasn’t sure and then I started crying. Mom lit a cigarette and says I stole it and that is BAD. I didn’t mean it. I don’t want to ever upset mom. It’s sad to see her upset and sometimes scary, too. I would give back my T-Rex if it made my mom not upset. I would give back all my toys if I had to, but I didn’t. Mom didn’t drive back to the gift shop, and that was OK with me because I like my T-Rex and I did not want to see the scary lady again.
I fell asleep not long after and had a dream. I remember I saw the blinking tower, the one by Nana’s house. It was at night it and it was quiet. I remember in my dream I could touch the top of the tower; the red part that blinked. I kept thinking every time the light blinked that when it blinked on again, I would be it would have moved a little from where it was the first time. That was kind of scary to think about, but not too bad.
When I woke up I had some goldfish and fruit snacks in the shape of sharks. For a second I thought I couldn’t find my T-Rex, but he was in my hand the whole time. Isn’t that funny? I looked outside and there were even more trees than before, and even some houses too. As the sun went down behind the mountains, I saw the shadows of people in their doorways staring back at us from their porches. I think they waved, but I can’t remember. It reminded me of Christmas for some reason.
When mommy drove, she smoke cigarettes and listened to the radio and sometimes sang along to Blah Blah Streisand but she was quiet for most of the trip. Maybe she was still mad at me for stealing the dinosaur, but I don’t know for sure. It felt like the worst part of that time is over. I remember how quiet she was, because it made a bigger memory when she got excited and said we are almost there. We passed the steakhouse sign and the big church in town with the funny old lady that always stood in front of it, even in the dark.
How I knew we were really close was when I could see the mountain that looked like a face, and not long after, I saw the tower I saw in my dreams. There it was again, in real life, like when Nana was here before she was in Heaven.
The sun was all the way down now and the sky was blue, but getting darker and it made it more clear to see the blinking light, the light I thought would move when it blinked and blinked again, maybe a little to the left or the right or down a bit, but it looks like it’s stayed the same. We were the ones moving.
We pulled into the driveway to the house that was Nana’s and it was dark, not lit up at night like it used to be when we would take the long long trip after dinner in the city. It was almost invisible, barely there. The moon was creeping out from behind the grey clouds and showed some of the house to us now. I wasn’t scared because the radio was on and mom was singing and shined the car lights the house. So many shadows crawl on the house when that happens. Isn’t that funny? No matter how much light there is, there are always more shadows. These shadows look like people crawling all over the house, trying to get in, but I know it was just in my imagination and nothing else.
Mom took her suitcase out of the trunk and walked to the house in the hot dark. I cried out for her. She said to not be scared, but I couldn’t help it. Sometimes, mom liked to play tricks on dad and me, like when she pretended she wouldn’t wake up, or tell us robbers were in the house and that she was the only one who could kill them. This made dad laugh and I laughed too but only because he did. Maybe if I laughed first, he would laugh because of me? He was always first to think mom was funny when she made those jokes. Maybe he laughed to make me feel better, or maybe he thought it was funny?
Mom walked up to Nana’s door and searched for the key under the mat and found it. Mom said if I ever couldn’t get in the house, the key was always under the mat for me or anybody else who needed the house for protection or shelter. She found the old key, turned the knob and disappeared into the dark of the door. That is what it look like. It was so dark, even with the car lights on and the millions of stars and the comets in them, and my glow-in-the-dark dinosaur and my cap gun, it looked as if Nana’s house ate mom up. I know it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but I let my mind think about it more anyway, even though I knew now it was a bad scary thought. I stared off and disappeared, thinking about how the house ate mommy, swallowing her into the dark door, chewing her up with its sharp knives in the kitchen and grandpa’s old machete and swallowing her up the chimney or down to the dark cellar. Even though mom was gone and it was quiet, even though the sound of the car lights made a little buzz and it was dark, my stomach started to growl. I was hungry as a horse!
That’s when the lights turned on and I saw mommy standing in the doorway. I waved at her shadow and it wave back and that’s when I knew it was safe to be inside that’s when I knew it was OK.
Mom made me Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and gave me a Twinkie for dessert. We talked about Nana. I thought of her hands and how they look like mommy’s hands. Mom told me about cancer. She told me that she didn’t know you could get cancer in your hand. That made remember the time Nana held out her hand and asked me if I felt the lump in it after Thanksgiving dinner.
Later, we watched Roger Rabbit on the old TV. It was the only movie in the house and it was on the V-H-S. I like the part when the evil man puts the cartoon in the acid and it burns alive. I like that part, but it also scares me inside. I have seen the movie so many times. I like it a lot. In between, I stared at the window curtain being blown by the breeze. I looked out the same window that Nana looked out in my dream when she was drinking juice, curtains blowing against the glass, view of the field coming in and out of view, blocking and then un-blocked; the field and the radio tower with the blinking red light far beyond it in the distance.
so much a fuck customers, but I know those of us that come to this
really need retail stories that have a happy ending every now and then
to make us feel better.
So it’s New Year’s Eve, we’re roughly 30 mins to closing (early at 8)
and this woman comes in with her tiny tater tot of a child. The child
approaches the register as the mom sets her things on the counter.
Almost immediately the little one looks up at me and circles round her
mom (she’s can’t be more than 5 and 5 is a stretch, she’s very tiny),
saying “What time do they close?” I told her we close at 8. She gets
this funny look on her face and looks at her mom and is like “Mom did we
miss it?” Her mom smiles and shakes her head, telling her no.
As I’m going about ringing the mom up the little nugget picks up
lighter from the display and says “ooh fire.” I tell her “you don’t play
with fire.” She repeats me perfectly and puts the lighter back. Then
she says “When I grow up I want to be big” and then she sort of mimics
keyboard typing. I’m not entirely sure what she means and her mom
explains “She has a hard time explaining it, but basically she wants
your job when she grows up.” The little girl nods enthusiastically. Man
my heart melted, what an angel.
So yeah…there’s a happy story for a Happy New Year!
shoutout to the parents/guardians/adult figures who didn’t download pokemon go but are having a blast helping their kids and friends find pokestops, gyms, and pokemon! we love u and ur making exploring this game even more fun! the time you spend with us is appreciated! <3
One of the worst scenes of my life was captured on film
by Judy P.
There is a story behind this photo.
Looking at the photo would never give any clues to the story. I am going to tell that story now.
My father and stepmother were
involved in a number of illicit activities in an urban area in the early ‘70’s,
including the sale and use of illegal drugs, and the making and selling of
child pornography. I was used by both of
them in these activities until I was around nine years of age.
My father met Pam while he was
sleeping with various prostitutes in our nearby city. She had long dark hair, and lived in an
apartment somewhere within city limits.
My father took my baby sister and I to Pam’s place when my mom was gone
to work her shifts as an operating room RN at a local hospital. Pam sometimes let me watch a show called
“Nanny and the Professor.” I had to be
very good if I wanted to watch it.
Pam started telling me stories. She told me how she was locked up in a place
for crazy people, and how they shocked her, and did other things that hurt her. She told me that people who say crazy things
get locked up in those places. She
showed me scary black and white photos of people in such a place. The photos were from a magazine my mom also
had at our house, called “Life,” and the pictures were terrifying to me. Pam told me I must never say things that made
adults think I was crazy, or I would be locked up in such a place.
Pam started giving me shots. I had gone through a number of surgeries on
my left hip due to a birth defect, so when Pam said I needed more shots, I
thought it was like at the hospital, so I just accepted it as something I must
need, because the adults around me said so.
The shots made Pam’s words start to sound very slow, and made me feel
tickly inside. I would fall asleep, and
wake up to different surroundings, with different things going on. Pam would say I must be quiet and be good, so
I would not wake up my baby sister.
One night, after my mom left for
work and Pam came over, my father and Pam had me look outside my family’s front
room window toward our carport. A big
truck with a boat behind it was parked there.
A motorcycle was next to it. My
father said that if I pleased God by obeying him and Pam always, and if I never
told anyone about what he and Pam and the other adults were doing to me and the
other kids, then one day God would give our family a nice boat, and a nice
truck, and a nice motorcycle. The next
morning, after my mom came home and my father left for work, I tried to tell
her that I had seen a boat and a motorcycle, and that God was going to give
them to us if I was good. She said “What
an imagination you have,” and went on about her business. But she must have mentioned what I said to my
father, because Pam was very angry at me the next time we went to her
place. Her brown eyes were scary, like
they had changed from her normal eyes. I
knew I was in a very bad trouble.
My Great-Grandma died, so our family
went to her funeral in another state.
When we got back, my Siamese cat had run away from the people who were
taking care of him. I was
devastated. I did not cry, though,
because my father never let me cry.
Instead, I let the tears gather into a big lump in the back of my
throat, and I swallowed them away. A few
days later, my father brought me home a little black kitten. I named him Barney, after the Flintstones’
character. My father had never given me
anything before. I wondered why he gave
me this kitten, and why he took time to notice if I was hugging my new kitten,
and loving it. I did love Barney, very
One night, after my mom left for work,
Pam came over. She sat on my couch, and
made me sit next to her. My father
brought Barney over, and placed him in my lap.
Pam said I must learn to never say anything ever about what she and my
father and her friends did. She said it
was too bad I had not learned my lesson, because now my cat was going to pay
for me being bad. Pam took my hands,
placed them around Barney’s neck, with her hands over mine, and my father held
Barney’s paws. Pam squeezed on my hands,
but I no longer felt anything in my hands.
I could only see my kitten trying to squirm loose, struggling to
breathe. His head moved, his mouth
opened, his tongue moved.
His eyes were
misshapen with fear and struggle. It
went on for a long time.
Then he was
still. My chest hurt so bad. “This will happen to your sister next time,”
Pam said. My father placed Barney on top
of some towels in the laundry basket, and put the basket into a closet. He closed the closet door, got my sister from
her crib, and we left, Pam holding my hand, her skin still damp from the
struggle to silence my kitten. The next
day, my mom looked around for Barney.
When she finally found him, my father said he must have had distemper, and
gone into the closet to die, glaring into my eyes as he said it. I looked down, and saw my hands shaking in my
lap. I swallowed a lot of tears.
Pam and my father still did not
trust me, because the next time we were at her place, she made me sit next to a
woman with short dark hair, who sometimes took pictures of us kids as we played
“games.” The woman looked down at me
with very angry eyes, and told me if I ever said anything to anybody else
again, she would come to our house one day, knock on the door, get my mom to
let her into our house, then get my mom to invite her into my parents’
bedroom. While they were in there, she
said, she would kill my mom. She said if
I tried to tell my mom what she was going to do, my mom would think I was
crazy, and put me in an insane asylum like Pam had once been in. She said that nobody was ever going to
believe me if I ever tried to tell anyone about any of these things, and I
would look like my mind was insane if I ever spoke about any of this. The woman left, and Pam had me go sit and
watch Nanny and the Professor. I tried
to let the show make my mind pretend like none of this was real.
Some days later, while I was at home
with my mom and sister in our blue trailer by the crick in the mobile home park
where we lived, there was a knock on the door.
My mom opened it, and there was the woman with short dark hair. She was carrying a black bag, and spoke with
my mom for a few minutes. She was
smiling. My throat instantly constricted
in fear. My mom invited the woman into
our house, and told me that this nice lady was a photographer, and she was
going to take some pictures of me for free.
Then my mom took the woman back into my parents’ bedroom, to show the
woman some old family photos in there.
The woman gave me one backwards glance as she followed my mom into that
bedroom. I do not remember moving at all
while they were in there. I knew right then that there was not a single thing I
could say or do to change the trajectory of the adults around me. I waited for
that woman to kill my mom. When they came back out, I was shaking. My mom had
me go get a doll, and had me sit in our small rocking chair. Pam’s friend
smiled so sweetly, and told me to “Smile, honey.” The camera
clicked. The woman left. A week or so later, this photo came in the
mail, and my mom placed it in a photo album.
Every time I have seen this photo over the years, my mind has slammed
shut the part of itself that can still feel the absolute terror and complete
lack of control I felt in the moments before this shot was taken, and the
horrible dichotomy of the obedient smile I displayed while staring into the
camera that was being held by that cruel woman.
One of the worst scenes of my life was captured on film, and I am the
only one who knows what really happened and can tell the story. Why do I tell the story? Because that terrorized child in that chair
needs to finally be able to let it all come spilling out, in all of its
horrible, vomitus truth, and she needs to be believed. To live such atrocities was hard enough. To never be able to speak the truth and be
believed would be even worse.
I know I have submitted a lot already but I have some more shit to get off my chest. This past weekend I had a party with all my friends at the park. While we where there, these two mixed kids ( A boy and A girl) followed us around the park. It was all in good fun, before they started taking our water balloons and our food and THROWING it at us. My friend ended up getting a bruise from whatever the little kid threw and knocked over that hit her. We constantly told this little mixed boy to stop but he just kept laughing, moving around us and throwing stuff at us. And where the fuck where the parents?! On the other side of the park. The white mom was sitting on the bottom of the slide. She would glance over every now and then but go right back to whatever the hell she was doing.
Someone could have easily taken her kids and ran off, and I honestly don’t think she would have gave a single shit. The black dad was off doing who knew whatever. And the mom sat on the slide, watching as her devil spawn threw half of our shit at us after we told him and his sister to stop. Now if one of us where to hit or child, here would come the white mom crying and yelling about somebody hitting her child while she sat there doing NOTHING. We ended up walking the kids back to their parents before going back to the other side of the park. Not five minutes later THEY ARE BACK. Throwing shit and being loud, and we are telling them no. Where is the mom? Other side of the park. Not giving a shit.
I’m not trying to bash white moms, but damn. It must be this town or something. White moms here let their kids run the hell around and do whatever and when somebody sets them straight they start getting upset and crying about it. Black moms don’t play that shit! I remember having to old my moms skirt and hold on the buggy and if I moved away from her my ass would be hit and popped and spanked. If I was out of my moms line of vision, she would come like King Kong and find my ass before something happened to me. If I ran away like that, I would be spanked and yelled at and I would know not to pull that shit again. But white moms, especially the ones with black mixed kids seem like they are so clueless about raising their kids right!
I’m not saying she should hit her kids for running off, but at least go find your kids and not have strangers look after them! And if you see a group of people around your kid yelling at them to stop what they are doing, then that’s your job to come get and look after your kids! Maybe it’s the privilege white moms have. Black moms always have to worry about their kids getting hurt or killed for just being black every day, and they raise their kids to be weary of strangers or be weary when going out in general- and white moms just don’t seem to do that.
But then again, why would they? They don’t carry the black moms fear or burden for their kids. A lot of them know that their whiteness protects their children from the things other black kids face. Timmy can walk to the store at night and sneak back in the window with beer and live. Trayvon Martin couldn’t make it back home with a bag of skittles and his mom had to pick his brains off the street.