By Lea Lakeside-Scott
1,127 words
North American First Serial Rights
©Lea Lakeside-Scott
If you go to www.hopedolls.org you will see the adult woman from this childhood story. I started an organization to stop the cruelty of other human beings and to instill hope in those who usually do not have any. The following story was written while I was at the beach one weekend remembering my childhood and my brothers and sister. I have thousands of stories of a lifetime of pain, hurt, joy, and triumph that I want to share in segments of short stories. Please let me know if you are interested. Each story would stand on its own.
I am sitting here watching the ocean’s waves blanket the sand. The sounds are so peaceful to a troubled soul. I think back a long long time ago and wonder about the accuracy with which I remember my life. There seem to be big gaps and the thought crosses my mind that I have forgotten whole time periods and events. I can’t even remember if there were trees or what the weather was or anything at all that was around me for most of the places I lived.
Did alcohol cause the mind to not function properly? Was it the traumas of early childhood? Was it brainwashing with the Bible used for the instrument. Was it the beatings, and just one too many? Was it the rape of the soul and mind of a child that continued until adulthood? Was it even possibly genetic? I don’t know. I need to know. I have to find out. The two boys are dead, the older girl is dead, the mother is dead, and the only ones left alive are The Gem cutter (my father) and myself. No, it is not just important, it is vital. I hope I’m ready to face the truth.
I stare out at the incredible invention we call God’s and although at this moment it is peaceful, the picture seems to literally change and I can almost see them. Four young children playing in the waves. They appear to be alone. If any of the adults on the beach are their parents, one has to wonder why they aren’t doing something because the children are taking awfully big risks. There are others playing close to other adults in the sand and only occasionally does someone glance up at the frivolity of the four in the ocean. Two boys and two girls. All very thin and very fair. The children are laughing and splashing and defying the ocean as they go further and further into the big waves. They appear to be very happy and very free and it seems as if they were out there forever.
At long last, the boys and one girl fall back and go no further. The littlest and most frail girl, no more than eight or ten (could be older but she is so small) continues and lets the waves pick her up and deposit her closer to shore. She would again defy the ocean and wander out until another wave would pick her slight body up and play with it as if it were a small ball to play with and bounce and toss her in the air and towards the shore. One watching would almost think that she was challenging something much larger than herself that she understood and knew well.
All of a sudden the picture changes and the ocean becomes vicious. The bottom of the earth drops from underneath the little girl. Those on the sand watch in horror as they see the little girl flailing and being pulled out to sea. Only seconds seem to pass and everyone runs at the same time. The girl does not scream or call out. She appears to accept the challenge. She is frantically waving her arms and seems to ask for help but yet does not cry out. The people can’t reach her. They watch in panic as no one can help her.
Her brothers and sister stand and watch the commotion as if confused. She fights the enormity of the waves and as one watches her defiance to this deadly creation, her sheer energy could only lead one to wonder where such energy comes from such a little one. Somehow she makes it close enough where someone grabs her hand. Everyone is standing around and are just a little too quiet for such a miracle.
She had fought an undertow and struggled to shore. She was weak, afraid, yet triumphant. Someone asked her name. She answered ever so quietly, “Lea.” Someone asked her where her parents were. She didn’t seem to know. Someone else hears the oldest boy mutter something but he can’t make it out. He merely turns to his exhausted younger sister and tells her to hurry up, they must get back before they get another beating.
Nobody heard him say this to her. Bystanders were just watching in amazement as the sister and brothers do not even seem to show the great emotion of being happy that their little sister is alive. They just seem hurried and eager to get away from there. No maybe not eager, maybe frightened.
The little girl was shaky but onlookers heard her rattling on and on to her brothers and sister, “Did you see that? Did you see that?” Her sister turned to her and said, “You are so stupid!” And from that day forward that little girl had dreams of the ocean.
Did this really happen? And, if it did, did it happen this way? Is the story embellished or can the mind remember so vividly certain experiences and then remember absolutely nothing at all about other events or places? What is real and what is fiction? How much is real that I don’t even want to remember and have refused to acknowledge? I have heard stories about my life and most of the time have chosen to leave the room when these discussions occurred.
The trauma is too much. I have heard stories of incest, suicide, murder, to name only a few.
The Gem Cutter, I believe, is a murderer. In the very worst of ways. He continues to be a murderer and he is trying to murder me.
I must conquer that ocean. I must make myself know and understand why I am who I am, and must heal to prevent this man (my father) from accomplishing what he has tried all his life. To extinguish those he brought into this world. He feels he must destroy the littlest one too or he will not rest.
The only way I know how to do this is to write it exactly as I remember it, the bits and pieces.
I must know, am I – NOTHING TILL NOW?
