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Ok, what is it about monkey's? People either love them or hate them, there is usually no in-between. I happen to think some monkey's are really cute. But other's can be really mean. Take for instance the story I am about to tell.



The year was 1980 as I recall, in the early spring. It was still pretty cold out, I remember we still had winter jackets on, and we were in Marshfield Wisconsin. My Grandfather was pretty sick and in a hospital up there. So my family and I made and long drive form Chicago to visit with him and my Grandmother. This was actually a time when he was feeling a bit better, so we were allowed to take him to the zoo/ or buffalo park nearby for a few hours of fresh air. Well we had been walking all round the park wheeling G’pa around, he always loved the outdoors and animals of the wild. We had already stopped and had a picnic and were walking around a bit more before taking him back. When we came upon the Monkey House. You could go in and see the monkey’s close up, these were even monkey’s that you could hand feed. Well I’d like to recommend to everyone, whenever they say you can feed the monkey’s, DO NOT DO IT!! My poor younger brother, he was like 8 years old, he had a handful of feed, just as we all did. The monkey’s were taking feed from our hands without any problems. Then my little brother stuck his hand out to feed them, when suddenly one monkey grabbed hold of his wrist, I kid you not here folks, but grabbed tight hold of his writs while screeching the way monkey’s to do to another. Well this other monkey came scrambling over and again I kid you not took my brothers whole hand in his mouth and started chewing on it. All the while the other monkey has is wrist in it’s grip. The biting monkey then proceeds to chomp down harder on my brothers finger tips while he’s screaming bloody murder. By the time we finally were able to yank my brother away from the monkeys grasp the zoo people finally came running. He was dripping blood everywhere. Now mind you, all this while G’pa is sitting outside in his chair with G’ma and they are enjoying a moment alone together when they heard the scream. With my G’pa in his condition it took us a while to calm my brother down enough and stop crying so that we could gather G’pa and take him back to the hospital, check him back in and also get medical care for my brother. In the end I don’t think G’pa ever knew what had happened, we didn’t want him upset and to have another heart attack. My brother lost two of his nails (they have since grown back obviously). And the day ended actually with my brother and family all laughing hysterically about it, even to this day.



The morel of the story? Well see for yourself ...



By HellChildDami ©

I am seething in my hatred felt for you. As I grew in my earliest years I remember a time I was so vulnerable to your words. They stung as you said them, like a bee in the summertime. First it would burn as the venom enters the body, just a slow nagging pain. Nothing to sooth the ache as it spreads into my heart, as it as it corners my brain. As I a young child, maybe 5 or so, it wasn’t so much the word’s but in the way you said them. Yelling them as if I were some deaf, “You stupid son of a bitch, watch what the hell you are doing. Only an idiot would carry it that way!” Those are the earliest words I remember, it wasn’t until I was older, I’d heard it so many times. I began to believe. That is when the seed of hatred began to form. I heard nothing, only “You stupid idiot” over and over. It pounded my brain and I began to hate. For what seemed like an eternity I carried this hate deep inside of me. Finding no form of relief. Until one day, a person showed me a little love. It was like waking up with the fresh morning sun. I can now see just how much I truly am complete. Totally opposite of what you believe me to be. I AM smarter, I AM happier, I AM in control of what my life means and I AN in control of who I am. For you see, I have chosen a path that far is the distance between you and me. A path where I live only for me, through all of the good times and even the bad.



By HellChildDami ©

Jenny sat just starring out the window trying to remember when it all began. It seemed like such a long time ago, well really it was. She’s 35 now and facing the end of her life. The doctor’s told her that the medicine could only prolong the inevitable, but that they were trying new things everyday and one day there would be a cure. But she didn’t believe that, she was a small girl when the disease first really came out into the main stream public, and from then till now, there still was no cure, and millions were dying from it every year. For awhile she wanted to believe that it was possible, that maybe the day would come in her lifetime where she would be cured. But not now, now everyday she just grew weaker and weaker. So as she sat watching what she hoped wasn’t her last blue bird chirping in a tree in the park across the hospital parking lot, she relived her life and told it to me, while I sat watching her, her face so sad and lonely.



“Well I think it started before I even I was five years old.” She looked at me and I could see the tears just lying beneath the surface. “This is hard for me to tell, it was a secret I kept hidden for so long, and by the time I could, it was too late. I know I’m not the first person to live their life this way, it happens way to often. I just thought maybe if I told my story, then maybe if one person hears it and learns from it, well maybe it will save their life.”



There wasn’t anything that I could say right then, and I knew that really I shouldn’t. So I just held my hand out to her and nodded slightly to let her know I understood. She looked at my hand a moment before clasping in and sitting down next to me. The tears that she had tried to hold back now careened down her cheeks. She made no sound for a minute then she brushed her tears away, stifled a sniff and began to speak once again, all the while her eyes stayed glued to our intertwined hands.



“Well as I said, the earliest I can remember I was five years old. I remember that I had been carrying a plate from the dinner table to the sink and it slipped from my hands. It shattered into a lot of pieces,” Her voice I noticed now took on an almost child like whisper, “When it hit the floor and made a loud crash mom and dad both came running in. Mom looked at me to see that I was ok, then she was about to yell at me, but Dad pushed her aside and grabbed hold of my arm. He began squeezing it and kind of shaking me yelling at me for being clumsy and lazy. I began to cry, then Mom began to yell at Dad that it was ok that he was hurting me but it’s like he didn’t hear her. Then he told me to stop crying, or I’d really get something to cry for. I tried, I really did. But he still hit me, slapped me across the cheek and sent me to my room. So I went to my room and closed the door, but left it open a crack. I expected Mom to come in behind me but she never did. All I heard was a bunch of yelling and then it got quiet. I got ready for bed and laid down. I started to fall asleep, or at least I didn’t realize I had. I heard the door open, I peeked from under the covers and saw Dad walking towards the bed, he sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed his hand on the cheek that he had slapped, I just laid there with my eyes clamped shut, I thought he was gonna yell at me or hit me again I guess. He didn’t say anything, just sat there caressing my cheek. Then he whispered how sorry he was that he hit me, that he just had a bad day and it wouldn’t happen again. And as he talked he started rubbing my back, then my buttox outside the covers. I drifted back off to sleep thinking that he had forgiven me, and I guess after a time he got up and left my room. Well I guess things were ok for a little while, I don’t quite remember I just remember there was a lot of fighting between my Mom and Dad, it got to where one or the other would just leave. I’d go to my room when the fighting began and shortly after that I’d hear the front door slam.”



Her hand clenched in mine and I felt a shudder go through her body which felt like anger. The tears no longer flowed, and her eyes began to turn a shade darker. I knew this was hard for her, but I could feel in her hand the emotions she was feeling as she told me her story.



“About the time I would fall asleep he’d come to my room. I’d pretend that I was sleeping, hoping he would go away and leave me alone. But it was always the same. He’d begin by caressing my cheek, then my back and buttox. I don’t remember exactly when it started that he’d rub my back under the covers, but he’d lower the blankets covering me and he’d rub my back, then my legs, and my rear. All the while whispering how Mom was having problems and that she just didn’t love him anymore, but that at least he knew how much I did. Every time there was a fight he’d come to my room, and every time he would touch me, each time more then the last, and I guess I don’t really have to go into detail where, I think you know. I had just turned nine and Dad told me that Mom wasn’t coming back that she had been killed in a car accident. I didn’t know what to think, that was about the time that I stopped feeling, I stopped caring. For years I always prayed she would come back that it wasn’t true. I gave that up when I turned fourteen. Dad had gotten hurt at work and had a hard time walking, so he was going to be laid up in his bed for a few weeks. The second night he was out of work, I was getting ready for bed when he hobbled into my room and told me he wanted me to sleep in his room, that if he needed something in the middle of the night, he wanted me to be there to get it for him. I started to tell him that all he had to do was call out that I’d leave my door open but he said no. I didn’t want to sleep in there, I was afraid of what he would do. I mean he didn’t always, you know, touch me, usually only when I’d do something on accident and he’d yell at me and hit me, he’d come to my room then.”



She got up and started pacing, it felt like the temperature in the room had just dropped ten degrees. I could feel her anger as she paced, then she stopped to look out the window again. Tears formed in her eyes again, but she didn’t wipe them away, she just let them flow. “No matter what I said he insisted that I stay in his room. He was taking some pretty heavy pain killers and he just wasn’t acting like himself. When I went to lay down on the floor, he got like all crazy on me and started yelling and demanded I get on the bed. Well for the first week he didn’t touch me. Only woke me up several times to get him some more medicine or water or whatever. But then one night I woke up to him touching me again. Only this time it was even under my night shirt. I tired to pull away, to push his hands away, but he wouldn’t let go. He had me trapped under his leg. And when I tried to move, well, he rolled on top of me. I kept pushing at him, trying to shove him off me, yelling at him to leave me alone. But his eyes, man I can’t even describe it, it’s like they weren’t his, like something was inside him. He kept squeezing my breasts and pushing himself against me. He was hard, I wasn’t stupid, I’d never been with a guy but I did have a boyfriend once about six months before this, but Dad found out and went crazy, made me so embarrassed when he came over one day that the guy broke up with me the next day. But anyway’s, I knew what it felt like for a man to be like that, because my boyfriend had tried to mess with me once.” She paused for a moment, almost as if to collect her thoughts, and wandered back to the table and sat down. She lite another cigarette, about her tenth in just an hour. I still said nothing, I felt that if I said anything that she would stop talking, she would go back into her shell. She paused for a moment longer as she watched her exhaled smoke form strange designs in the air. She took a deep breath and began again.



“Well, I was trying to push him off me and yelling at him by this time to stop, but it’s like nothing I said could get through to him. He just kept squeezing my breasts then he started kissing my neck and whispering that I was so beautiful. How much like her I looked. I started getting sick, I could feel the bile rising in my throat. I wanted to throw up right then. Next thing I knew he had my shirt pulled up and I felt his mouth on my breasts. I just closed my eyes and turned everything off. I went away, whenever he had come to my room before I’d close my eyes and think of this place at the park I like to go to. There’s a bench I sit on sometimes all night and just watch the water and listen to the sounds. So that’s where I went. To my bench. I tired not to think about what he was doing, where his hands were, I just stopped moving, and laid there stiff. Then he touched me, down there again. Only this time ... well he went in. I went crazy then and started fighting again and trying to push him off. Well in doing so we hit heads, hard. It dazed me and all the while he’s saying all these things to me, I’m beautiful, I’m special, I’m pretty, he’s not going to hurt me. Yeah like that’s a joke. He just wants to show me how much he loves me. He’s touching me and well then I think you can figure out the rest, he forced himself in me.” The anger in her voice returned, her eyes sparked like a lit match. For an instant I thought she would lash out at me. Clenching her hands into fists. She drew her breath in as if to control herself.



“After he, he ... raped me, he passed back out. When I knew he wouldn’t wake up I slowly crawled out of the bed and went into the bathroom. Needless to say I threw up, then I seen the blood. From kneeling in front of the toilet I just crawled into the shower and let the hot water beat down on me. I don’t know how long I laid in the tub crying and throwing up more. I didn’t even feel at first when the water began to turn cold. I finally crawled out of the tub and dried my self off. That morning he had no clue, or at least he acted like he didn’t, he called for me just like nothing happened. Well needless to say that wasn’t the first time nor the last time it happened. I didn’t tell anyone, I couldn’t. I had no friends at school, and none of my teachers liked me. I had no one. It continued until I ran away when I was seventeen. I went into the city as far away as I could. But what’s a seventeen year old supposed to do, what do they know. I started having sex just to make money to eat on. I met up with this guy who said he would take care of me, make sure I had everything I wanted. Yeah what a joke that was. He introduced me to first cocaine, then heroin, and from there I just got worse. I can’t say as I blame him for anything really except for introducing me to the drugs, he actually wasn’t too bad of a guy. I’ve been with a lot of guys who were a lot worse. At least he never hit me, not once. I think if he hadn’t gotten killed, that maybe we would still be together, that maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here in this hospital dying. I could sit here and tell you all kinds of stories of the things I’ve seen or done. The guys I’ve been with, there were times when this body, well what it used to be, made more money then what I knew to do with. But really none of that matters now. I can’t go back and change the past. And even if I had the money all back, it wouldn’t change nothing either. They’ve spent millions of dollars already and haven’t found a cure yet, so I guess I just have to face what is to come.”



She stood up once again and walked to the window. And the tears began to roll down her cheeks again. I stood behind her to see what she was looking at. Across the parking lot in the park was a young girl being pushed on the swing by her father. She turned and looked me straight in the eyes for the first time, and the anger and bitterness was there. “You know I see that little girls smiling face and I can’t remember a single time when my father pushed me on a swing like that.” Her eyes softened as she whispered, “Do you think he treats her good?” Slowly she took to her bed and I sat beside her in silence as she drifted off to sleep. I quietly stood up and walked toward the door and as I opened it to walk out I heard her turn towards me and say, “I will be with you, when I die won’t I Mom?” I just slowly closed the door as the tears rolled down my cheeks.



Written By HellChildDami 2/28/05 - 3/1/05 ©