I Will Always Remember

There is a melancholy to me.

I feel here but somewhere else at the same time.


My recent experience shook me.

Memory means little to most.

But for me, when memory was the very thing that kept me alive,

forgetting is not so easy or forgiving.

I remember, in a grey haze, what had happened.

It took me to a darkness I have never spoken about. A darkness no knows.

I have alluded to it, but I have not actually said the words aloud.

I doubt anyone could fathom the complexity and gravity of it all.

And the story begins… once upon a time…


Many years ago, a young girl, had her memories taken, regularly.

Up to the age of five or so, this young girl would go on nightly trips and not remember what happened between leaving and returning in the car.

She had felt silly, stupid even. The words mentioned were elusive but cryptically unclear.


As the story continues… once upon a time…


A young woman discovered what had happened to her as a child.

It was more sinister than ever conceived.

The nightly drives going to a place of ritual and sacrifice. Often at the expense of herself and her sexual liberties as a child.

But she didn’t remember, until now.


The smell of chloroform all too familiar and all too common.

Her mind had been foggy, confused and lacking the pieces it needed to come together.

Yet, through perseverance she put them together and saw what happened.

Heard the voices, the laughter, the chanting and those that were supposed to look after her,

those she had trusted, standing and volunteering her and her body for ritualistic purposes.

And then the haze of chloroform would return.


This went on for years.

From the anal intrusions, the attempts to drain her of her life force energy, her sexual energy and all that she didn’t know she was.

But they got little and proclaimed that she was nothing.

She was a waste of space and had nothing they wanted.

She received beatings for her lack of contribution.

She didn’t remember other than the cold treatment, the verbal abuse, the exclusion and isolation. She didn’t understand, at 5 years old.


However, she was so much more than they thought.

She was special; she had some that had protected her from the dimensions where she was being violated. She was simply mortal in these places.


Then… as she discovered the truth to her childhood, the death of her parents and the hideous treatment she received growing up…It was at this time, the revealing of who she was became evident.

For those it was too late.

She had found her strength, her voice and her ability to defeat the evil that had been infecting her for far too many years.

“No more” - no more controlling, draining, abuse. No more.

Her memories slowly becoming intact and restored.


In this victorious reclaim of a life segmented and dissected, there is still much torment, much anguish and a melancholy difficult to comprehend.


Since the weekend and its turn of events, the taste in my mouth reminded me of chloroform.

Not that it was or it came from any malicious intent. This I had done to myself.

Yet, it felt like a violation of my mind, my memories and my being.


I will always remember and this time, the desolation, the sorrow and the adversity is mine and mine alone.

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