The Monster who Lives Down the Street

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Some memories are not so good. But they are what mold us into what we are today.  I will share this deeply disturbing part of my life because I am a survivor. We are all survivors. Regardless of our pasts, we can live blissfully today! Stay blissful my friends – E


The guy had deep scars on his face and half of an ear chewed off. How he loved to torment me every day on my way to school by pulling a gun out and pointing it at me. I was only eight but already knew what a real gun looked like. Standing frozen, I didn’t breathe or blink an eyelash as he pulled the trigger, “Click”.  I almost peed my pants but didn’t. I knew by going home I might run into mom and have to tell her what had happened.

Having already witnessed my mom beat a man in the middle of the street with a cast iron skillet, I was more afraid of what my mother would do to the monster than what he would do to me. So I remained quiet about it and endured his daily abuse.

Coincidentally, 12 years later I  would find myself smoking PCP with this very same guy…still afraid but not afraid enough. It is astonishing what you will try to forget when you want to get high.


Why do you afflict me?

What purpose does it serve you?

Does it make you feel hip, slick and cool?

To terrorize an 8-year old girl?

Are you afraid of someone big and strong?

Do you know what is right or wrong?

What is your home life like?

How do you sleep at night?

Do you see the young soul I am?

Would you hurt me if I just turned and ran?

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