From: Z57N000 <Z57N@UNB.CA>
Subject: This Is The Sound Of The Floorboards Caving In...
Organization: The University of New Brunswick
Date: Wed, 19 Aug 1992 19:39:52 GMT

step forward. rustle of the keys. she said she wouldn't be a burden to
bear. she did not mean to lie, she only felt that there was more to say.
sixteen years old. she remembers the little mermaid. "i'm sixteen years
old! i'm not a child!" she remembers that when no one would let her have
what she wanted more than life itself, she turned to the sea witch, who
had her own motivations, whatever they were.  aileen quinn crosses her
legs to remember, she has no fin.

she fears for herself, for the rest of her old safety net. when did she
offer to leave before? why are her words construed so many ways?  why
did she even make the foray into music's newsreader to begin with?  the
allure of reading synopses of star trek episodes a week in advance, she
supposes. the shine and lustre of bit.listserv.gaynet's pride in what
they are. the blessed ignorance of not understanding
alt.aeffle.und.pferdle. the weekly installments of MORTIMER in
rec.arts.tv.tiny-toon. and when she began to know her past, the radiant
warmth of alt.sexual.abuse.recovery.
it felt so innocent. a post, a reply. she thought every new poster got
this sort of attention. she posted to other people too -- she was no
leech. and she had new friends. a programmer in san diego.  a kindred
spirit with purple feathers. a gregorian chant. and so many more.  even
a new father.  (shyeah. right. not for long.) and somehow, hiroshima
reenacted itself for her, and she found herself once again flat on her
back.  she knew that she did not give herself away for herself, but for
someoneelse. aie aie aie aie aie, out of sympathy, pity and empathy. her
reality remained.  shattered.
always the way that it works, dear dear lord, dare we dream, dare we see
more than what we want to see. she knows. she knows what she wanted. she
wanted to be held, embraced, protected. and that may never be. things
are denied to the children, and denied to the adults.  everything has a
price, damn it all, a price! like marbles, like child- hood stickers.
i'll trade you solace for sex. would you settle for making out? no, sex
or nothing. well, why not. solace is so goddamn rare...
so cries go unheard for a while. ten lonely souls keep vigil for the
homeless one. then out of the blue, she tells her story when not even
the men and women of indigo will offer their vindiction. and is taken
for the manipulative fool. wounds and bleeding, sure as hell. this is
the way healing has to work for you, child. be strong. yea, though i
walk through the valley of the shadow of death....

though i walk through the valley...  the shadow...  yea, though i walk
through the valley...

i am afraid.

mention of recompense. she pondered it for weeks, and knew innately
thatthere would be no way to obtain it. she was forbidden to even
breathe the words "new jersey."

she had promised the overlords, the powers that be, that she would never
again visit the prisoner in his cage. she had made that pact, that she
might have a place to live.

she steps back now.

she breathes the cool air.

she waits for the rain to extinguish the flame.

and someday once again, when her query "am i wanted" is taken as nothing
more than that, she will speak her peace.

she offers her humblest kneelings at the feet of the floral purple, the
willy-nilly-silly-old-bear, the triangle, the sister of charlie brown,
and anyone else she has chanced to wound when the shake of her hair
loosed arrows of fire to the sky.

forgiveness may no longer be permitted.

i shall scurry to the shelter of my father's wings, and return when i
may.

************************************************************************

Darella Cassandra Pierson -- Relkie -- born Beverley White...

reachable through Z57N@UNB.CA or relkie@Bayview.COM

"I was in the mental ward for a little shock treatment when a sudden
power surge zapped me with two thousand volts then i floated down a
tunnel to a shining man in white and when i could finally make out his
face, it was you, doctor!"
"So what's the problem?"

STEVE TAYLOR -- "Jung And The Restless"
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