literature

Glass Prison ch1

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Literature Text

There he stood, in an empty playground. It wasn't really empty; there were jump ropers jumping, sliders sliding, swingers swinging, and singers singing. It wasn't empty, no, but to him it was. For as long as he remembered, the other children would shy away... run away... get away... away away away...
What was wrong? He was just a petite boy with a little green beret. Don't think thT I would tell you his name; he himself does not know it. He is was often referred to as "that boy" or "horrid child" or simply "it". But secretly, he wanted to be called Marcelo.

They'll come back for sure... once I'm gone. I always go to the park to watch them play. I want to see how they feel, because I know I'll feel the same way too... someday. Somehow I've always been different. I'm much smaller than all the kids my age. My eyes are small and slanty; not green, blue, brown, or any beautiful color, but a pale grey... like a stone.

"Don't fucking look at me!" Marcelo's mother screeched. She screeched until her voice grew hoarse. "It's looking at me". She smelled of malt liquor and perspiration. At that moment, Marcelo's father rushed into the room, picked him up, and threw him down the basement stairs.

Do you want me to talk to it?"

She struck his temple. "Bitch, go down there and punish that little bitch. BITCH!"

He fell down the staircase, one by one, step by step. Pain dulled by calluses formed by constantly falling. He wasn't clumsy. You see, this was the 6th time his father threw him this week. Today is Monday. Marcelo gasped  as invisible hands pulled him further into the darkness.

I hear footsteps. Someone's coming down. Please don't come down here! leave me alone! They never come down. Never.

"Listen you un-normal little turd, you are dead to me! Not good enough to be called human", he growled "Like a dog... worse than a dog... but still... I'll enjoy fucking you much more than I would my wife."

Marcelo could feel his father's rough hands tear away at his clothing. Touching every nook and cranny (lingering at the crannies). He could feel a tongue moving slowly up his body... ankles, thigh, knee...

Marcelo blacked out and knew no more.

Marcelo's parent's hardly any right to call him "un-normal". If I heard correctly, Marcelo's father just simultaneously committed acts of necrophilia, zoophilia, pedophilia, adultery, and incest. Not much more can be said about his mom; she is an alcoholic and prescription drug abuser, and according to the local nuns, possessed by a demon panda.

I started writing this in 2nd grade and just happened to unearth it once more because of construction on my house.

Marcelo & the Glass Prison
Enjoy chapter 1 "the Playground"
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