Tuesday, October 16, 2018

New children for hold. RIGINAL.

by riginal (writer), moe australia, February 23, 2015

Amazing how a conscience can turn around and catch you in a desperate moment.


Only the remnants of abused beaten neglected terrified children around the world can ever hear him.The dead had no need of auditory incitement,encouragement- to answer or heed the call. The bewildered young. Death muted- amplified their dying thoughts.They had no surround sound of joy or stereo type upbringing.Their parent/parents switched off. Occasionally a static burst of joy cut short. Erased by indifference. Misery loves company. Not chosen company even by a child's undeveloped understanding of reference or choice. No reference of prolonged love to compare. Only the living, too young to understand death's machinations, the flow- on peace after life effect for the child a poor reward misunderstood-too late. His voice reverberated through the mist. The mist was unseen, invisible to the offending parents. But the child hiding under the bed saw it, felt a warmth-heard the voice.

"New children for children for hold." The child winced, crawled out from underneath the dirty blood speckled mattress his drunken father had collapsed on.

"New children for hold..." The elderly child whisperer hunched over, pulled gently on the reins of the giant horse dragging the sled loaded with smiling children effortlessly through the mist. No apparent rumbling, scrape of such, no apparent clip clop, just a sigh from Conscience, the child whisperer. Little Ben opened the window fearfully, slowly,it didn't rasp. In the child's imagination the old cracked warped window his father had thrown him against in one of his rages- had roared in indignation, "Ben has wrenched me open! He must be punished, Ben is trying to can't escape Ben." It was silent though. Fear shook the lad involuntarily . He scrunched and cowered into a small painful shape, like kid's do when they know they're going to cop it. When he hid under the bed he pretended his father couldn't see him. Because 'invisibility' is a terrified kid's plaintive magic wand. Wishing the magic wand would turn into a sabre and cut the groping hand off. "No! he wasn't stopping...please stop!" A thin pleading begging wretched hand waved at the translucent vague figure hunched over in the driver's seat. Waved frantically at the man. Fearful of the consequence of raising his voice, should his father wake. More fearful he would be ignored, passed by, the child screamed. "Please stop!"

The horse stopped suddenly, the old man with the piercing grey eyes dismounted. He beckoned, opened his arms. Smiled up at the desperate face, "new children to hold...jump Ben..." The children outstretched their arms, smiling. Happy faces. "Jump Ben. father Conscience will catch you..."

Ben scrambled half way out the window, felt his father's unsteady grip on his leg. Kicked it off fearfully, easily. It was a twenty foot drop. Ben jumped, felt the terror of unknown free fall consequence The space between that of the trapeze artist conditioned to being caught, but still with that imperceptible fear controlled by practice and the knowledge their partner's timing was supreme.That romp with death,aghast amazed crowds loved to applaud. Wished they had that courage of the trapeze artists. They never would. But the small impart of adrenalin flow garnered from the swinging daredevils sufficed. Most unwittingly not understanding they too walked a life's straining flexing tightrope of bravery. As always, the disappointed few that wished the hi flyers would fall. Just to bring him down to their level of fear. The twinge of guilt for letting the thought enter into their mundane world where they walked on solid ground. Wished they could fly...anywhere, for a while, away from their enforced reality. Then realizing they just did. Clapped the bowing pair. Bravo. They had paid and got their humdrum monies worth. Saw the pleasure and awe in their children's eyes. Felt proud when they clung, breathlessly. "Did you see that dad? Did you see that mum?" The children clapped the tiny untrained trapeze artist who trusted the unfamiliar voice-unfamiliar partner.Felt the reassuring arms fold gently around him. Felt the warmth of the applause. Felt at home with the others. Wanted.Safe.

His father's emaciated dying face said it all. Ben nodded at the intensive care nurse pointing at her watch in the ward where most capitulated to God's will, grasping and gasping at the end of theirs."Don't speak dad, it's okay." His father did. The young trapeze artist wiped his father's eye, placed a finger on his cheek."Ben i'm so sorry." "It's ok dad"

"Ben" he murmured, grimacing, "the day you jumped out the window was the day my conscience caught up and started choking me. When i saw you sprawled on the ground i thought you were dead and i wished i was. That guy? Where did he come from? I didn't get the chance to thank him for saving your life. For saving mine." "Dad don't talk..." His father whispered. "Son, where did the children on the sled come from? They were so happy...they were so happy, and the old guy kept saying, "new children to children to hold...i was so drunk but i remember that day the voice repeating over and over again, "new children to hold...was i that poisoned i imagined it?" His voiced trailed off. His eyes fluttered,closed. "Ben..." "Yes dad" "Please hold me and tell me again what you said when you came to see me in you remember what you said?" You were just a little boy." Ben stroked his father's hand gently, "remember exactly what i said dad, like i said it yesterday. "New father for father for hold..."

About the Writer

Bio...bioio...daylight come an i wanna go home. Come missa tele man tele me banana. A banana tele? Seriously would like to hook up with other comedy writers to engage.
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3 comments on New children for hold. RIGINAL.

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By Lisa77 on March 07, 2015 at 04:20 am

Awesome stuff..Children are the gift of god. Make them to achieve heights in life is the duty of parents. They are searching for hands while doing new things. <a href="">College admission essay writing service</a> is here to ignites your mind.

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By Lisa77 on March 07, 2015 at 04:24 am

Awesome stuff..Children are the gift of god. Make them to achieve heights in life is the duty of parents. They are searching for hands while doing new things. College admission essay writing service is here to ignites your mind.

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By riginal on March 10, 2015 at 08:44 am

Lisa 77 perhaps the mind is not what needs igniting? Perhaps students sitting on bland confused hands and bots need ignitionary enlightment ie: think of the money saved if students ignore all the rip off propaganda exuded by writing service scammers, OR, am i too late and you have been indoctrinated and succumbed to the lure; becoming a 'paid up' proliferator of same? The key to literary ignition should be turned on by the student...not by a monetary grabbing passenger who probably uses the same replica essay for every student which in turn could possibly render students partaking of- impotent, when searching for that elusive SAME job. Think about it! Prospective employers faced with reams of sameness. Same purchased resume no doubt. Same approach. Individuality a lost art. But why bother when you can collectively pay a scam artist to paint your future so that you can walk the walk but can't talk the talk because your input has been negligible by sheer dent of the glaring fact you have no time to study up and why on earth should you when you can choose from an online plethora of people who will propel you to intellectual stardom. Or is that dollardumb to the literary slaughter? One way out would be to marry a dissertation guru, but then why would you because if you did the money he would be raking in from online suckers would negate the need for you to work. "Oh!" i hear you say, "but i want to go forth and stun the world with my pre paid dissertations!" Maybe you can. Buy a few thousand essays, tie them in a bundle...hit a prospective employer over the head with them! A good solid wack should do it. But make sure you get in before the others harboring the same idea. Have a dissertationary weekend Lisa 77. I wish you awesome success in your position as sales person for the college. $12.95 per sheet seems to be the going rate. What else can one say but-SHEET! :>) God bless. Sorry,blog guess?

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