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Molly

Molly

Molly’s father was a drunk.
Each night, his mouth was full of vodka.
‘Straight vodka, as real men do’ Molly quoted me his stinky breath
over the phone the next day as if someone who doesn’t drink is less than a human.

He drank too much for no blood was flowing in his veins; vodka had replaced it.

Going home after the class, Molly heard her mother screaming upstairs.
She climbed up and peeped through the keyhole:
he, the monster, red-faced as the stain on the dress Molly wore that day,
was above her mother, banging and slamming her torso.
Her face was wet with tears and her lips were arid.

Upon his finish, he kicked her under the bed; she grounded like a hot potato.
He threw a fist on her nose –blood spilt her eyelids.

Molly hid behind the curtains and when he came out,
she went towards him, threw herself, like a beast,
like a possessed child, a wolf howling underneath the full moon.

She lunged him at the steep stairway,
he tripped, he fell, his head smashed.

Her mother was still unconscious on the bedroom floor.
She rushed to her room, grabbed her notebook and wrote:

Today, my father was killed. And if anyone asks why, come and see my mum.
The monster was a rapist; he raped and raped and raped my mother.
He raped me too before school this morning.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
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Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

that is quite a story! I believe that it was told by a young girl that told the truth about her father's death, because she wanted the world to know about his transgressions! I'm sure that someone that had examined the scene of his demise, would have assumed that he had fallen in his drunken stupor, but she wanted people to know. The end makes me wonder what happened to her after that confession. ~ Geezer.
.

It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

Thank you!

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