We live our lives generally believing that what we see and hear and feel is reality - the only truth - all there is - how misguided we are!
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake
Baker’s Mam.
Bake away the Evil
As fast as you can.
Hit it and bash it
And mark it with E,
Then put it in the oven
For the children and me.
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake
Baker's Mam,
Won't be kept in the oven
As long as she can
Be entwined with the Devil,
And escape with glee.
To torture and haunt,
Especially me.
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake
Baker's Mam,
Won't be kept in the oven
As long as she can
Be entwined with the Devil,
And escape with glee.
To torture and haunt,
Especially me.
Esther
I really, really didn’t intend to kill her.
I mean I didn’t plan it or even imagine it. I just did it. In that few seconds of such intense desire to
be rid, I grabbed the poker and struck her head from behind like a ferocious
animal. Smash! Get out of my
sight! Smash again! Go away forever!
I crumpled to the ground just after she did
and heard rapid, overwrought breathing.
‘ Oh God
she’ll get me now, she’ll really kill me now for hurting her, oh what a
bitch I am, what an ungrateful little cat I am, better say sorry, sorry, I
don’t mean it. I know her anger is
boiling, I know she will rise up, and I deserve it!’
But It’s me breathing, it’s me - in out, in
out - she’s quiet, not a word, a sound, a movement. I look at her face and as
she meets my eyes, there in her eyes, for a fleeting moment, is that oh so
familiar look of loathing… then nothing, blank, death. She’s dead.
She is actually, really dead.
I’m ecstatic, I simply cannot believe this
wonderful act of fate, this luck, this… whatever you want to call it. She is gone! Oh me, oh my, oh whatever daft
thing you want to say, she’s gone!
No more obligatory ‘phone calls born of
fear; no more prescribed apologies for trumped up accusations; no more
listening to self-righteous outrages, no more insulting the memory of my Dad,
no more listening to lies but too cowardly to challenge them, no more of the
most selfish individual one could ever encounter, no more, no more… All this
comes to me in rapid images from the past as I stare at her.
I then scramble to my feet, I pick up my
glass of wine, I turn up the music and I dance around the body. I am on some surreal planet - the adrenaline
flowing, beside myself with joy. I have never in the whole of my memory of my
life experienced this freedom, this independence and entirety of me; no
resentment, no cruel judgments, no bitterness towards me - my soul is my own!
I move gracefully around the figure lying on the floor and I’m so weightless,
elegant and light-footed. On and on I glide and seem to float in ecstasy until
suddenly I feel quite exhausted.
Finally I collapse onto a chair at the
table in the centre of the room and stare at the body lying in front of the
fireplace; the mother who never actually was. Not a true one, that is. Eliza,
my mother, the bane of my life. I have got to speak, I have to unburden myself
- it is my only chance.
Insidious Bane by Polly Mullaney
http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?type=Print+Products&keyWords=Insidious+bane&x=10&y=5&sitesearch=lulu.com&q=
Myths,
legends and witchcraft, are alive and well in Wales; this is why my story
identifies with this heritage. This story is entrenched in the legends and
myths and physical evidence of the folklore of North Wales. The mystery of the
wells, the significance of symbols to be found engraved on buildings, the
Pilgrim route and the ever present inexplicable.
Three Kids Gripped By Evil By Polly Mullaney
Amazon Kindle, Amazon paperback
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