The Dark Journey - Prologue

[The Ravyn]

I suppose I should start this off with a strong warning about subject matter and content. This is a story of childhood sexual abuse, rape, drugs, prostitution, homelessness, slavery and ... eventually ... freedom.


<center>Childhood memories
playing in the park
skipping rope
kickball
foursquare
handball
running
jumping
laughing
Childhood Memories
Homework
teachers
school buses
report cards
friends
mother
father
brother
sister
Childhood Memories
sorrow
Death
pain
no father
gone to be with god
mommy?
Why can't we go see daddy?
I want to go now good-bye</center>
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Well, I guess I should begin from the start and work my way to the end. That is how it is supposed to be done, or so I've been told. My story starts like most stories. I had a pretty happy child hood up until I was 9 years old. That was when my father was killed in an accident on an oil rig. He had been a roughneck most of his adult life, and loved the work. He worked very long hours and was usually filthy when he came home. He was a good and kind man. All my memories of him are good ones, which is more than I can say for most of the rest of my memories.

From what I understand, he was running a 'swab line' which is a long pole attached to a cable that they would run into a well in order to pull fluid out. Don't ask me why they did this, it was just something they did. They would run the cable down into the well until it got to the bottom, then pull it back out, pulling fluid up with it. Then back down went the cable, and back up again.

My father was running the brake handle, which means that he was letting the cable down into the well, braking when the cable's progress slowed so as not to get slack in it. It was explained to me that the swab cup assembly hit a pocket of fluid that hadn't made it to the surface on the previous run, and hadn't dropped all the way to the bottom. This caused the cable to go slack unexpectedly. When this happened, a loop formed in the cable and dropped around my father's head. Then the swab cup assembly dropped through the fluid and ran free again, pulling the cable tight. I understand that 3000 feet of 3/8 inch cable weighs a great deal and the force of the drop and subsequent tightening of the loop was sufficient to decapitate a person.

The funeral was closed coffin.

My mother was devastated by the death of my father, understandably. He had been her hero, her knight in shining armor, so to speak. He had lifted her up out of a poverty stricken life and showered her with all the things she ever wanted. Her father had been a mean, cranky old bastard, and I believe he may have done some very distasteful things to my mother and her sisters. Her brother, Robert, left home when he was 16 because, as mom put it, he was going to kill the old son of a bitch if he stayed. He was the oldest in the family, and mom's favorite sibling. When Dad died, uncle Bob pretty much took us all under his wing. Uncle Bob was a strict man, but generous and honest. When mom suffered a nervous breakdown and had to be in the hospital for 2 weeks, uncle Bob took the three of us to stay with him and his wife and 2 daughters. Aunt Amelia was usually a nice enough person, but I never really liked her very much. My cousin Tracy was 2 years older than I, and we shared her room.

I remember one day I was hungry and decided to make myself some soup, but I got distracted after putting it on the stove to heat. An hour or so later, Aunt Amelia went ballistic, yelling and cursing and calling us all in to the house. It was then that I remembered the soup I had put on the stove, and knew that this was my fault. There was no real damage done, but the soup had boiled away, and what was left smoked the house up really good. I confessed my error, and she marched me out to the back yard where they had a huge old weeping willow tree. She gave me a pair of pruning shears and told me to cut her off a nice long willow switch. I cut the switch and brought it back to her. She told me to strip the leaves off of it, which I did. Then she pulled my pants down and my blouse up and proceeded to give my backside a good tanning. The pain was immense, and the welts stayed with me for over a week. I never left anything on a stove burner unattended after that. To this day, if I walk away from the stove while cooking, I get very nervous, and my back sort of shrinks in on itself as if to avoid the loving caress of the willow switch.

So for three years mom slaved away and did her best to support the four of us on her own, but I know it was very difficult for her. She didn't have much of a social life during that time. When she did go out, it was with her girlfriends. I know she dated at least four men before she started seeing one man on a regular basis. I didn't care for him much but mom seemed to be love struck so I held my tongue. She married him the summer I was to turn 12 and my descent into hell was to follow very shortly.

Now there was nothing I could really pinpoint about this man, Mark Jacobson was his name, but every time he would look at me I got a serious case of the creeps. It was merely a feeling. I told myself I was being silly, but very soon I would learn a hard lesson about trusting one's instincts.

[JukotoxKanashimi]

ravyn my mother also too...slaves away to take care of the family. The mayn reasosn why I love her so much. your story though short has touched me in many ways than none. Mostly because I've been through most of the things you were talking about. Great job Ravyn

[heinzs]

I reiterate what I've said before about your story, Ravyn, in that I feel it would make a stupendous book about this terrible subject that could be an education and an enlightenment to so many. I think, too, that your words falling on the right ears would make others who have experienced similar horrors realize that they are NOT alone and that nothing that happened to them (or you) ought to have. The victims of the atrocities you so poignantly describe are not at fault in any way, though many feel so guilt ridden they take on the onus of what has been done to them.

Cheers to you on bringing your story back to the Pages. As difficult as it must be, the telling of it must be cathartic and you KNOW how much we all support you.

:heinzs:

[Miyu]

this is a touching beginning for me too, i've been through the pit..
i am looking forward to reading more ravyn, this is a great start to what looks like a great story...

miyu

[bags123]

Ravyn,
I admire your strength, bravery, and talent. Can't imagine a child having to go through what you have. My wife came from a situation not at all unlike your own. The times she's shared her experience with me, I feel
such unrequited rage. Her step father had passed on from Leukemia before we even met. I keep telling her that when I find his grave, I'm gonna piss on it for her. So far no luck though. Lots of graves in Philadelphia.

[The Ravyn]

thanks guys! i guess it's time to put the journey back where it belongs huh? maybe i won't even get an attack of paranoia and delete it all again ... ;o)

[preston]