Three Line Tales | Visitation

Three Line Tales: Week 158

Photo via Robert Hickerson via Unsplash.

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Today, I want to tell you all a story. A story about lies, bullying, drugs, and abuse. This story is about the time that I realized that I deserved better than the situations that I was put in.

Re: The Sandman’s Q&A #2

Hello, friends! For those who don’t remember, several months ago, a fellow blogger posted a short Q&A on his blog, and invited others to join him in answering. I decided to participate, and you can read my answers here. Well, The Sandman is at it again with a second Q&A! So, I thought I would shake off these stormy weather blues, and do a bit of writing today, since things are pretty chill in my house today. You can read the questions, and my answers, below!

#1) Describe one moment from your youth that is impenetrably seared into your memory.

Honestly, my memory is pretty fuzzy when it comes to things that happened in my childhood. I’m not entirely sure why. I am able to recall certain things in vivid detail, but for the most part, there are huge gaps in my memory, where I can’t remember a damn thing. High school was particularly traumatic for me, and many of it is a blur. Middle school is basically the same story, but slightly less severe. Maybe I just didn’t care enough to retain the memories. Who knows?

There are two memories in my life that often pop into my head, presenting as vivid, flashbulb memories. The first, and possibly the earliest memory of my life, is of the backseat windows of the first car my mom ever had with me. One of the back windows had two parts, and the back part was shaped like a shark fin, and had little black dots on it. I remember looking out this window as a baby. My mom said she got rid of that car before my first birthday, and that there is no way I could have remembered it. But I do.

The second memory is from middle school. When I was in the sixth grade, I had a crush on a boy in my class, named Billy. He had an older brother, who was in the eighth grade at the time, and I liked him, too. However, neither had any interest in a relationship with me, friendship or otherwise, and were often cruel to me, teasing me, and spreading rumors about me. I had a pretty thick skin back then, and it didn’t bother me much.

Until the final dance of the school year.

I showed up alone, but immediately met up with a few friends of mine, who reassured me with urgency that everything was going to be okay. I was confused. Long story short, Billy and his brother had created a fake AIM (AOL Instant Messenger) profile, using my name, and faked a ridiculous conversation between “me” and themselves. Then, after fabricating numerous embarrassing confessions, they printed out copies of the conversation, and plastered them all over the walls of the cafeteria, where the dance was being held.

I was furious. I confronted the duo, who were sitting in the back of the cafeteria with friends, too cool to participate in the dance, while my friends took down the posters. I made it very clear that I was not embarrassed, and that I felt sorry for them for being pathetic and immature enough to put so much effort into trying to humiliate a girl they supposedly had no interest in. I got my point across. I remember telling a chaperone, who was probably a parent, and not a teacher, and they said they couldn’t do anything about it. And that was it. We took down the posters, we danced, and we moved on. I got over it. After that night, the boys never bothered me again.

#2) Would you be upset if a long-term partner confessed that s/he’d committed a serious crime before you met? How do you think it would affect your relationship?

Honestly, it would depend on the crime. There are many unforgivable crimes. Was it assault? Burglary? Rape? Murder?Did they go to prison, or is this a deep, dark secret? Have they turned their life around for the better? Everyone makes mistakes, and does stupid things in their lifetime, especially when they are young and stupid. I can forgive things like assault (assuming it was justified in some way, and not some sort of hate crime), certain kinds of theft, certain drug offenses, traffic violations, etc. I am a pretty forgiving person, as long as they have changed for the better, and treat me well.

However, there are things that I can not forgive. There are some crimes that are committed by people, often more than once, and it defines what kind of person they are. A lot of times, they don’t change. I won’t go into detail, but whatever you’re thinking that I’m talking about, you’re probably right. Sometimes, there are no excuses, and no coming back from something. If I discovered something horrible in their past (and chances are, they probably didn’t go to prison for it if we’re in a relationship, meaning it was a secret), I would confront them. I would hear them out. But in the end, I probably would not stay in the relationship. And, depending on the seriousness of the crime, I may even turn them in.

Well, there are my answers to The Sandman’s Q&A #2. I invite you all to answer these questions for yourselves, either in the comments, or as a pingback post. Thanks for reading, friends!

Jan

Crock Pot Convert

For the first 24 years of my life, I was never much of a chef.

Dream Journal 10/19/16

I was sitting at my kitchen table, drinking coffee while Liam ate his breakfast, when I heard the sound of voices in the building’s hallway.

Random Prompt | 6th Grade

“Write about yourself in the 6th grade.”

I’ve written about this in the past, but wanted to share it again with anyone who never read those posts. The 6th grade was actually a monumental turning point in my life. Four years prior (I think?), the first Harry Potter novel had come out in the US. I was only 8 at the time, and did not really know much about it. It wasn’t until I was in the 5th grade that I heard much about the book, and it wasn’t until the 6th grade that I was able to read it. And it changed my life.

My 6th grade homeroom teacher’s name was Mr. Eder. He was also my English teacher. Mr. Eder was already very familiar (and slightly obsessed) with the world of Harry Potter, and decided to plan our entire school year around it. First, my class was divided up into the four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. I was put into Slytherin, which I later learned was actually quite perfect, and I have related with being a Slytherin for the rest of my life. No joke.

Next, each group voted on who would be the Head of the house. Guess who won for Slytherin? Meee! It didn’t really mean anything though, but it was still fun. We read the book aloud in class, but I finished it on my own time within a week. I had never known that I was a fast reader before that point in my life. Each week, we had a test on what we had read thus far, and the points from each house’s tests were averaged, and the houses that scored the highest would get points. We also had fun tournaments and games, including a Quidditch game at the end of the year. I don’t mean to brag, but Slytherin won the Quidditch game, as well as most of the other challenges (my friend Travis and I carried our entire house basically). We won the House Cup at the end of the year, and got to choose a theme for a party for the class… we chose Harry Potter theme. Obviously.

Being a part of this experience not only opened my eyes to the world of Harry Potter, but also the world of books, and imagination. I started spending a lot more time at the library, and convinced my mom to buy me books whenever we went out. I read so much, that I won an award at my senior assembly for graduation as well! It also helped me with my writing, which is something that I also got really into in middle school.

I still wish I had tons of money to throw at books, but, ya know… adulthood stuff happened. Stupid bills.

Thanks for reading, friends!

Jan

Random Prompt | Traumatic Childhood Memory

“Write about a traumatic childhood memory.”

Tanika looked over at me from the other end of her pool, her sunglasses sat low on the bridge of her nose, “Do you want to play hide-and-seek?”

“What?” I asked her, “Aren’t we a little old for that?”

She laughed, “I’m getting Chase, he’ll want to play, too.”

Unfortunately, I don’t remember her brother’s actual name, so we’ll call him Chase.

We climbed out of the pool and toweled off. I had spent nearly every day at Tanika’s house that summer, just lounging in the pool, or playing Sonic on her SEGA, just trying to have as much fun as we could before returning to school. Tanika was my best friend, and our families had known each other for years. She was going to be in 5th grade in the upcoming school year, I was going to be in 7th. Her older brother, Chase, was visiting for the weekend, but he hardly wanted to play with a couple of kids, and spent most of his time in his room, ignoring us entirely.

This time, he agreed to humor us in our game of hide-and-seek, and it probably saved my life.

Tanika was “it” for the first and only round that we played. Chase and I separated, running in opposite directions into the woods behind their house. He headed down the path we took to play by the creek, and I wandered into the heavily wooded areas that we didn’t normally explore.

I could hear Tanika call out that she was coming to find us, and pushed further into the unexplored part of the woods. Suddenly, I lost of footing, and fell forward into something wet and mushy. I immediately panicked, realizing that I was starting to sink into the ground. I didn’t know what was happening, but the ground seemed to be swallowing me up. I grabbed onto a nearby tree and started screaming. The ground was heavy and cold around me. I still don’t know if it was some kind of sinkhole, or a very muddy pocket of water, but I was so scared.

By the time I saw Chase was running towards me, I was up to my rib cage in thick, muddy water. With one arm around the tree that I was holding, he pulled me out with little difficulty, and carried me back to the house, where Tanika was waiting. We agreed not to tell their mom, because we were afraid that she would be upset. The three of us snuck back inside, and Takina and I  went to her room, where I changed into a pair of her orange sweatpants, a matching orange sweatshirt, and a pair of black clogs, all of which were a size or two too small. Chase threw my clothes in the wash for me, and we retreated into the living room.

We didn’t really talk about what happened after that, and I spent less and less time at Tanika’s house that summer. After we returned to school, we grew more distant, until we were practically strangers. I never knew why that happened. We haven’t spoken since.

Thanks for reading, friends.

Jan